#some good some bad pretty normal not the catastrophic mess people made it out to be

[socialistexan]

It's 12:30am on a random night in February and I'm making Doctor Who companion tier lists.

I will go to my grave defending Yaz from anyone who said she's a bad companion. I almost put her in the top tier, but that first season where she was allowed almost no development held her back.

[shion-yu]

Day 11: Passing out

Using @medwhumpmay to finally finish this full length Shu sickfic! 5,065 words. Written for my @badthingshappenbingo space “Working Through the Cold” and inspired by this prompt by @snzzenby641 “A horrid boss with an equally horrid cold being less than careful with their germs.” CW: Contagion, mild mess, sneezing, coughing, fever, stuffy talk, ft. Shu’s 14 y/o son.

The second Shu hears his boss sneezing, he knows he’s going to catch whatever it is that’s causing it. He’s never had a very good immune system to begin with, but it was when he was in college that his body seemed to have made the decision to no longer put up a fight against any cold that passed by him. This is a particularly bad thing for Shu because even though he has enough PTO to go on vacation for a month, his boss, Harrison, often denies even more reasonable time off requests.

Harrison is the type to work through a cold, and therefore he expects everybody else to as well. Shu’s not sure what one would have to do in order to be excused for a few days off without getting guilt tripped into coming back early - perhaps a catastrophic earthquake would do. As long as the office was still standing, probably not. Harrison lacks the trait of empathy, Shu thinks, but in a competitive market this is an advantage.

“WEI!” Shu already knows he's in trouble by the way Harrison is screaming his name. He's been trying to avoid being in close contact with his boss all morning in some attempt to avoid Harrison’s very contagious sounding sneezes, but once he enters the lion's den it’ll be all over for him. Shu sighs, straightens his tie out, and knocks on the door of Harrison's office before entering.

"Yes sir?" Shu says, standing up straight.

"Took your sweedt timb," Harrison says, his normally punctuated speech blunted with heavy congestion. He looks pretty bad, Shu thinks. His hair is messy, his eyes are watery and red rimmed, and Shu questions why someone so critical can't tell that he really ought to be in bed right now. Stubbornness, probably. "Your performance review,” Harrison says. “Sit.”

Ah, yes. The dreaded quarterly one-on-one where Harrison points out everything Shu needs to do better and nothing he’s done right. Shu reluctantly sits across from Harrison’s desk, trying not to fixate on the overflowing trash can of used tissues next to him. Harrison lets out several harsh, wet coughs that he only half-covers with his hand, then pushes a small packet of papers over towards Shu with the exact same hand. Shu winces but picks it up and begins reading aloud just how much he sucks at his job, just like Harrison likes it.

Harrison is smirking as usual as Shu reads. He’s definitely a sadist. Otherwise, why would he make them read these in front of him like it’s confession? However he also seems distracted today by the beast of a head cold he has, unable to go more than thirty seconds without sneezing, coughing, or both. He snorts up what sounds like a very thick noseful of mucus up and grunts, rubbing his temple. If he wasn’t such an ass, Shu would feel bad for him. Instead he just feels doomed.

Once Shu finishes reading his review, Harrison asks him the required follow up questions that he always does. “Would you agree with your review? Whadt can I do better as your boss?” Snort. “How would you rate yourself?”

The thing is, answering any of these questions with honesty is a surefire way to be working overtime for the next several weeks. So Shu just answers pleasantly, as he’s supposed to: “It sounds good. Nothing. I’d say I could improve in the areas you mentioned in my review.”

Harrison nods in approval. Believe it or not, Harrison actually likes Shu. He’s a hard worker, he doesn’t cause problems, and he never asks for raises. Shu is the quintessential office grunt as far as Harrison is concerned: quiet and obedient. The people who aren’t? Don’t last very long around here.

Shu, on the other hand, has lasted at this company for over ten years. He’s the longest working consultant for this marketing firm’s location and he even started before Harrison. Shu only has a bachelors, though, so he’s never been promoted to anything farther than senior marketing consultant. He doesn’t supervise, he doesn’t make big decisions, and he most certainly does not make waves.

That is, until he suddenly became a single father to an unruly twelve-year-old who needs Shu’s attention constantly. Shu took unexpected parental leave for four weeks when Alex came to live with him, much to the disdain of Harrison. And when he came back, Shu was different. Work was no longer the number one thing on his mind. These days, Shu answers his personal phone during work in case he has to leave when the school calls him because Alex has caused trouble again, which happens often. He gets sick way more frequently because he’s not used to kid germs and he’s always tired, leading to little mistakes in his paperwork that he always would have caught before. His black hair is quickly turning gray and for the first time in Shu’s life, he cares more about another person than his corporate job.

For Shu, this change is good. Raising Alex is tough, sure, but it’s rewarding and an experience he never would have had otherwise. He loves Alex and doesn’t mind that his relationship with work is changing.

Others don’t agree. Namely, Harrison.

So when Shu comes the following week sniffling and sneezing every few minutes just like Harrison was, all he gets in response is annoyance. In fact, Harrison seems to have complete amnesia about the part where he undoubtedly gave Shu this hell of a cold with his less than stellar public health habits and actually seems to be punishing Shu with more work. He tosses a large folder of paperwork on Shu’s desk and says, “I need this before you leave today.”

Shu has his nose buried in an over-used tissue, the rough ones that the office provides that were the cheapest money could buy. “Yes sir,” he mutters into it. His nose is chapped and bright red from blowing it into the sandpaper-quality tissues all morning.

Mathias comes up shortly after with a bottle of DayQuil and a look of abject pity. “You shouldn’t have even come in,” he says matter of factly.

“Too late,” Shu croaks. His voice is going already and speaking causes him to fall into a fit of harsh coughing. He doubles over, pushing his wheeled office chair backwards from the desk and coughing, and coughing. He’s not sure he can stop.

He feels Mathias’ hand on his back and a bottle of water is shoved into his grasp. “Drink,” Mathias orders.

Shu does. The cool liquid burns as it goes down his raw throat, but it’s also soothing and he finally manages to stop coughing. Mathias cringes just observing him - darker than usual circles under the eyes and greasy hair is not a good look for Shu. “Dude. Go home.”

Shu shakes his head, motioning to the stack of papers on his desk. “Can’t,” he rasps. “I’ll probably have to stay late finishing this stuff.” At least Alex is fourteen now and Shu trusts him enough to stay at home by himself for a few extra hours. When Alex had first come to live with him, nearly two years ago now, Shu had been terrified to leave him alone for even a second.

“Give me half, I’ll help,” Mathias says. He doesn’t wait for Shu to deny him - which he knows Shu will - and snatches the two top binder clips full of paperwork off Shu’s stack of many. Shu nods, unable to bring himself to fight back when he’s feeling this lousy.

By the end of the regular work day, Shu’s sure he won’t get out of here until at least seven, maybe eight PM. He’s working slower than usual thanks to how much his head aches and how many breaks he’s had to take to sneeze and cough himself into seeing black spots in front of him. His arms and even his fingers hurt, the hair on his own head prickling uncomfortably as if affected by static electricity. He’s also freezing and has resorted to swearing his jacket over his usual business attire, but he doesn’t think it’s done much to warm him up.

“You definitely have a fever,” Mathias tells him. “Harrison can find someone else to do this shit.”

“I’m already on thin ice,” Shu says weakly.

“So? He gave you this plague,” Mathias says. But Harrison is his boss too, and he knows just as well as Shu that that’s not how it works around here. He himself only stays at this job for the health insurance, and because he has twin baby girls and a wife at home to make a living for.

“Wei,” a sharp voice makes them both jump in their office chairs. Shu resists letting out an exhausted sigh.

“Yes sir?” Harrison is standing a few feet away from him, coat on and ready to go right on time as usual. What he has to rush off to, no one knows given the man’s perpetually single and lives alone.

“I still expect that paperwork on my desk by the time I come in tomorrow,” Harrison says. “And remember we have the board meeting tomorrow at nine, so don’t be late.”

Shu forgot about the board meeting. He also wants to throw up at the idea of presenting his numbers in front of his seniors when he feels like even standing up is a bad idea right now. He swallows and nods numbly.

Mathias attempts to defend him. “Sir, I don’t think Shu will be able to come in tomorrow, he’s sick as a dog,” he says. Shu feels a rush of emotion that Mathias still defends him like this, even though he’s younger and has no reason to stick his neck out for Shu when he also needs this job.

“I expect a hospital note if he’s that sick,” Harrison says sharply. He glares at both of his underlings who don’t respond again. Then he stalks out of the office to enjoy his night beginning on time without any kids to take care of at home.

Mathias shakes his head, muttering profanities under his breath. Shu just coughs, whispers, “Thank you,” and goes back to his work.

It turns out that thanks to various errors in the data, Shu stays in the office until past nine that night. Mathias leaves around seven, apologizing profusely but Shu brushes him off and says he’s done more than enough to help. Mathias has a family waiting for him at home and a wife who won’t be very happy if he’s any later than he already is. Then Shu’s left alone in the office space, which feels even colder at night and the only sounds to listen to are the clicks of his keyboard and his own miserable sniffling.

He calls Alex to let him know he won’t be able to come home until later, apologizing and telling him to order whatever he wants for delivery food. Alex seems annoyed and just says, “Fine,” before hanging up. Shu rubs his painful sinuses in exasperation and hopes Alex isn’t too angry.

Once he’s sure the numbers are to perfection, Shu finally slaps the pile of completed paperwork on Harrison’s desk and drags himself home. When he leaves the office building it’s dark. The cool night air hits his skin and makes him shiver, then cough. He stumbles a little in the doorway and presses his now burning face into the entryway, letting a self indulgent groan escape from his lips. He feels like shit, he has an angry teenager to go home to, and he has to be back here in less than ten hours to prepare for that board meeting. He lets himself think, ‘I’m not sure I can do this,’ for another thirty seconds before standing up, slapping his hot cheeks and shaking it off. It’s just a cold. His kid and work come first.

Shu drives home without incident, although by the time he pulls into the driveway the flow of undeterred snot has made its way all down his chin. He’s disgusting. He wipes his face with his suit jacket sleeve - which he immediately regrets because now he needs to get it dry cleaned before he can wear it again - and stumbles into the house.

The first stop he makes is Alex’s bedroom to make sure his son is fed and safe. He knocks and cracks the door, peaking in to see the teenager sprawled on his stomach in bed reading a book. Just a bit of the tension he’s held in his shoulders all afternoon dissipates.

“Sorry I’mb so late,” Shu says. His voice is barely there and it hurts to speak. He feels as if he’s gargled rocks. “Did you eat?”

“Yeah,” Alex says, not looking up. Shu knows he’s mad about his being late.

“What’d you get?” Shu asks, leaning against the doorframe because his legs are starting to feel like jello and his head is spinning.

“Pizza,” Alex answers. “I left some for you.”

“Thanks bud,” Shu says. His face suddenly scrunches up and he lets out two very loud, very wet sneezes into his suit jacket sleeve, since it’s already a lost cause. “Excuse mbe.”

Alex does look up finally, a punctuated frown on his face. “You shouldn’t have stayed late if you’re already sick,” he points out accusingly.

“I know,” Shu sighs. But it’s not like he had any choice. Alex doesn’t quite understand that though - Shu never tells him about his job, or his boss, or how much Harrison’s grown to dislike him ever since Shu decided Alex was his priority over his desk job. The kid has enough things to worry about without being made to feel like a burden. “Im’b gonna stick to mby room, don’t want you to catch this alright? Do you need adnything though?”

“No,” Alex says. Shu takes this as his cue to leave the surly teen alone, but Alex adds when he’s halfway out the door, “You gonna stay home tomorrow?”

Shu shakes his head no, coughing meanwhile. “Meeting, but if I can come home early I will,” he says when he manages to catch his breath again. Alex doesn’t say anything else, but his mouth is set in a thin, disapproving line. “Goodnighdt,” Shu says, then shuffles off to his bedroom where he is finally able to let out the torrent of violent sneezes he’s been holding back since he got home. He feels dizzy with the release and blows his nose with blessedly softer tissues than the ones he was forced to use at the office, barely possessing the energy to get into sleep clothes before collapsing on bed.

He knows he should eat and probably take medicine, but he’s one hundred percent spent. He doesn’t think he can even get to the bathroom to brush his teeth, he just needs to sleep immediately. He passes out with the lights still on and his blankets clutched tightly around him, shivering.

What feels like ten minutes later, his six AM alarm goes off. Shu cannot fathom how this is possibly correct, but the clock on his bedside table states otherwise. The sharp tone of his alarm feels like it’s stabbing him in the head with every beep and Shu turns it off with a loud groan - which turns into a series of miserable coughs that sound even more congested than yesterday. He can feel all the nighttime mucus in the back of his throat crackling and breaking up as he coughs, which hurts like someone slapping rubber bands against his throat.

Still, Shu drags himself upright, throws on the first suit he can find that isn’t covered in snot, and half heartedly fixes himself up in the bathroom. He catches a glimpse of his reflection in the mirror and cringes because he looks absolutely awful. His face is pale white and he needs a shave and a shower badly. The energy required to complete these tasks is nowhere to be found though, so he settles for splashing some sink water on his face and calls it good enough. When he blows his nose, it seems there is no end to the thick, greenish snot that comes out.

Alex isn’t awake yet, but the high school is three blocks away so he walks. Besides his suspensions, Alex has good attendance and Shu doesn’t worry about him skipping school. He’s a good kid, despite what some of the guidance counselors believe. Shu fixes Alex his lunch as always, although he forgoes preparing anything with his bare hands and just throws in an accumulation of pre-packaged goods and gives it a spritz of Clorox spray too. Alex rarely gets sick, but Shu doesn’t want to take any chances.

By seven Shu’s out the door, stumbling over his own feet to the garage and praying he makes it to work safely. He feels miserably sick, he can’t even pretend to deny it. But he also feels like he has no other choice but to show up after Harrison made such a point about coming to the meeting yesterday.

When he gets to his desk, Mathias is already at his and his expression leaves nothing to the imagination when he sees Shu. “Jesus Christ, get out of here,” he says.

Shu sneezes in response. “I’d love to,” he croaks. He practically collapses into his office chair, head spinning.

Mathias strides over to him and slaps a hand on Shu’s forehead, unfazed by the way Shu startles. It’s this behavior that made Shu first fall in love with the guy, Shu thinks hopelessly. It’s an unrequited, decade-long crush that will never, ever go anywhere. Shu was the best man at Mathias’ wedding for goodness sake. Best friends is good enough. “You’ve got a hell of a fever,” Mathias says disapprovingly. “Maybe you should go make a show of being a plague rat in Harrison’s office. He might kick you out.”

Shu forces a weak smile at him, closing his eyes and just letting himself enjoy the touch of a cool hand for a few indulgent seconds. Mathias lets go all too soon and hands him a bag of cough drops. “Thought you could use these, I brought them from home.”

“What would I do without you?” Shu murmurs tiredly. Mathias pats his shoulder and goes back to his desk. The cough drops are lemon and honey flavored, which are Shu’s favorite. There was a time several years ago, long before Mathias had a wife and kids, when he and Shu lived together. Mathias must have remembered from back then.

The first hour of the day is spent preparing for the board meeting, during which Shu becomes increasingly uncomfortable. He tugs at his tie and even unbuttons the top two bottoms of his shirt, something that’s unlike him. His coughing is impossible to ignore by anyone in the office, as are his wet sneezes that now come in twos and threes. Yesterday at least they were clearing his sinuses temporarily, but now they just hurt and yet do nothing to fix the blockage in his nose. He’s fully aware that he sounds dreadfully contagious and doesn’t blame anyone for avoiding his desk completely.

Ten minutes before nine, Harrison breezes by Shu’s desk and clears his throat loudly to get Shu’s attention. “Go to the bathroom and pull yourself together,” he orders. “Can’t have you looking like you’re going to die in front of the board.”

“Maybe we’d get a sympathy vote if I do,” Shu jokes weakly, but Harrison’s already across the room. For a short, fat man, he’s awful speedy when he wants to be. Shu pushes himself into a standing position, his arms quivering with effort against his desk. He feels terribly dizzy and keeps one hand on the wall as he finds his way to the bathroom. There he washes his face and tries to tell himself he can do this. He’ll present his brief, hopefully without too much trouble with his voice, and then he just has to wait for the rest of his colleagues to finish. By lunch, he’ll be able to go home and crawl into bed, Harrison be damned.

That’s the plan, anyways. But Shu’s plans rarely work out. The meeting has a lot of important people, including Harrison’s boss and the boss of Harrison’s boss. That’s Shu’s great-grandboss, right? He can’t help but giggle under his breath when he thinks of this ridiculous title. Mathias nudges his from under the desk, a concerned look on his face. ‘Hang in there,’ he mouths. Shu blinks himself back to reality where no jokes are allowed at the board meeting.

When it’s his turn, Shu’s stands up and tries not to sway as his vision blurs. “Ahem. Excuse mbe in advance… I’mb getting over a touch of a cold,” he prefaces, as if he’s not right in the trenches of battle with whatever this hell virus is. “This quarter our numbers have been… impacted greatly by…” He’s interrupted by two sneezes that make the world spin. He reaches for the tissues in his jacket pocket and tries to wipe away the mess without blowing the rest out, which is hard to resist when he can’t breathe through his nose and talk at the same time.

“Egsguse mbe,” he mutters. He knows his voice is cracking and between that and the congestion, he’s not entirely sure his colleagues can actually understand what he’s saying. Does anyone really care, though? Probably not. As he goes on, it gets harder and harder to maintain a natural flow of speech. He’s trying to breathe normally, but instead he feels like it sounds absurdly loud in his ears. Actually, everything is too loud, even though nobody except him is talking.

“Mr. Wei? Are you quite alright?”

Shu blinks hard, trying to focus on whoever just said that. He thinks is Harrison’s boss. Or grandboss, now he can’t remember. He catches Mathias staring at him worriedly and clears his throat. “Perfectly fine. Now… we’ve seen a marked increase in… um, sorry, an increase in sales for products that were… talked about… I mean advertised using our new model of… uh…” Suddenly he can’t remember what that model is. He invented the damn model.

“Mr. Wei.” The voice is more stern this time. Then increases to a shout: “Mr. Wei!”

Shu doesn’t know why the old guy is yelling, or why he suddenly feels like he’s suffocating on hot air. “Just…” He grits his teeth in annoyance. “Just give me a…” He doesn’t finish the sentence, because then suddenly everything goes dark and when he opens his eyes, everybody is yelling. So annoying, Shu thinks to himself. If only they’d just shut up. It’s just sales. It’s really not that exciting.

“Shu, hey pal. Are you with me?”

He recognizes that voice, the one closest to him now. His eyes flutter open and he realizes he’s lying on the floor on his back, Mathias above him with his expression full of concern. “There you are. You’re okay. Take a big breath for me.”

“Ugh… Matty, I don’t feel good,” Shu groans. “Think I’m gonna…” Someone shoves a bin under his chin just in time for him to vomit. There’s not much in his stomach, given he hasn’t eaten a meal since lunch yesterday, but the loud noises that come from his throat and stomach don’t sound so little. Shu whimpers, the board room spinning around him. What was he doing here again? He can’t remember. Was he at work?

“It’s okay, we’re gonna get you taken care of,” Mathias soothes him.

Shu smiles despite himself, his head lolling to the side as if he has no control over it. “You’re always so nice to me,” he mumbles. “I think… my sugar feels low.” Shu doesn’t have diabetes, but he is prone to low blood sugar when he doesn’t eat. He remembers that time, almost eight years ago now, when he fainted at the office. He was sick then, but also had a markedly low blood sugar. Wait…

“Oh shit. Did I faint at the office?” Shu asks wearily, only now realizing he’s still in his work clothes. Now it’s coming back to him. The board meeting… Shu groans. “Oh god. Did I faint in front of everybody?” At least last time nobody had been looking at him when it happened. Especially not an entire room full of all of his bosses.

“Afraid so,” Mathias said. “But I just kicked them out and someone’s waiting for the ambulance. They’ll be here soon.”

“Kill me,” Shu said. He’d fainted and then puked in front of the entire board. That was it, his career was over. He had to quit. “I’m serious, shoot me now.”

Mathias shakes his head, shushing him. “Don’t be so dramatic, you’re probably just dehydrated. You feel like you’re a million degrees, you know that? I told you you should’ve gone home.”

“Yeah, you’re always right,” Shu mutters. He rests his head back down in Mathias’ lap where he’d woken up. “Ugh, my ambulance copay is like, three hundred bucks, too.”

Mathias smoothes Shu’s sweaty hair off his forehead. “Now’s not the time to worry about that, okay?”

Shu closes his eyes. They feel hot and pulsing inside of his skull. “If I’m not out by three, will you make sure Alex is okay? I don’t wanna worry him while he’s at school.”

“Of course,” Mathias says.

The EMTs arrive a few minutes later, Harrison leading them to Shu’s spot on the floor. He’s shivering by then, Mathias’ suit jacket covering him not sufficient to ward off the chills from the fever he’s sporting. They load Shu onto a stretcher after taking his less than stellar vitals and Shu gazes blearily at the office as they walk through it to the elevators, because he’s sure he can never show his face in here again.

“I could probably just sleep it off at home, I don’t think I really need the hospital,” Shu tries to tell them, but they stick an IV in his hand and bring him anyway. There Shu gets Tylenol, a couple liters of fluids that apparently have some electrolytes and sugar, and a dose of IV solumedrol to work on his awful cough. They say it’s probably a viral infection but they’ll send him home on antibiotics anyways, just in case, plus oral steroids. Shu’s still waiting for discharge paperwork when Mathias calls with an update on Alex. He wants to know if Shu’s staying overnight because Alex keeps saying he’s going to leave to sleep at Ryo’s.

“They’re discharging me now, can you guys come get me?” Shu asks. If Alex wants to sleep at Ryo’s that’s fine - Shu knows it’s where he goes as soon as he feels overwhelmed, and Shu being this sick is sure to stress him out - but he’d like to see his son is okay with his own two eyes before then.

Mathias shows up half an hour later, by which time Shu’s dressed, IV removed and scripts in hand. “Alex is in the car,” he tells Shu. “He wants us to drop him off at Ryo’s on the way back.”

“That’s fine,” Shu says. He walks out of the ER on his own two feet this time, still feverish but feeling far better than he did this morning. Whatever “D5NS with KCL” is, he wishes he could keep some handy for all the times he’s feeling weak because he’s pretty sure that’s what helped the most. As they approach the car, Shu can see Alex in the backseat. He’s listening to music with earbuds in, but he pulls one out when Mathias helps Shu into the passenger seat.

“Hey buddy,” Shu says. His voice is still pretty rough sounding, but not talking for most of the hours in the ER helped. “You okay?”

Alex snorts, shaking his head. “I’m not the one who passed out at work.”

“Touché,” Shu says. He’s not sure that’s how the word is supposed to be used, but he’s too tired to care right now. “I’m sorry I worried you.”

“I wasn’t worried,” Alex says quickly, but Shu knows he’s lying. Not that he plans on pointing that out, but he’s aware that Alex cares about everything far more than he likes to pretend. School, Ryo, the fact that Shu still makes him go to therapy once a month even though he says his parents’ death doesn’t bother him anymore. It’s just another reason why Shu feels so fiercely that he has to protect him now.

Alex clears his throat uncomfortably. “Can I sleep at Ryo’s? His dad said it’s fine.”

“Yeah. That’s fine,” Shu says. He’s not sure he would’ve had the energy to argue if for some reason it hadn’t been fine. Thank god for Ryo’s parents and their constant willingness to have Alex over since the beginning. Thank god for Ryo and his calming presence he always seems to have over Alex, despite being the most hyperactive teenage boy Shu’s ever met.

Alex directs Mathias to Ryo’s house and hops out, his backpack for school tomorrow over his shoulder. Alex doesn't look at him, just mutters an uncomfortable, “Feel better,” before disappearing into Ryo’s house. Shu sighs in relief. As long as he knows Alex is fine, he’d rather the kid not be there stressing about him anyways. Mathias brings him home and takes him inside, setting him up in bed with tea, tissues, meds and anything else he could possibly need within reach.

“Thanks Matty,” Shu says tiredly. “I don't know what I'd do without you.”

“I don't either,” Mathias says, eyeing Shu worriedly. “You sure you’ll be okay by yourself?”

“I’ll make it,” Shu says. “Don't worry. I’ll be back at work soon.”

Mathias rolls his eyes. “Not too soon,” he says strictly. “Get some rest.” Then he leaves Shu to his own devices and Shu relaxes, finally in his own bed - where he should've stayed this morning. Oh well. He can't believe how humiliating he is - to pass out at work twice in the span of a few years - but hey, at least no one's going to accuse him of faking. Harrison will guiltily go easy on him for a week, at least. Thank goodness he made it home.

[ellana-ravenwood]

“My fake boyfriend is a billionaire ?!” - Bruce Wayne x Fem!Reader

Synopsis : After a few shitty weeks of everything going wrong, you somehow find yourself faking a relationship with the one and only Bruce Wayne. 

That’s it. I did it. After 3 years posting stories on this platform, I finally succumb to one of the biggest fanfiction cliché of all time haha. The infamous fake boyfriend trope. And I really hope you will like it : 

My masterlist : @ella-ravenwood-archives

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The Gap Year of Disaster

Today, you were an utter mess, and you couldn’t care less.

You know, this kind of days where you wish you would just have stayed in bed ?

Where everything goes wrong and you just want to hide under your blanket and pretend you don't have any responsibilities ?

Well today…Today was most definitely this kind of day.

It was suppose to be your first day at an exciting new job and you were so psyched about it, that you hadn’t been able to sleep all night. 

You finally fell into a deep slumber during the very early hours of the day, and…

Of course you woke up late ! You didn't have time to take a shower, or to do your make-up nicely or even to brush your hair. But worst of all you didn't have time to get coffee !

When you got out with your bike….it was pouring outside. Ah but of course, because when one thing goes wrong everything has to follow. Everything WILL go wrong. Murphy's law or some stupid things like that !

It's in those moments you wish you had a car ! Because when it rained in Gotham…It felt like Noah was ordered to built another ark !

So, sleep deprived, soaked, in a bad mood and looking like a mess, you managed, by some miracle, to arrive at your job on time.

Only to discover that this wasn’t at all what you were expecting. It was NOT what was promised to you, which was experience in an exciting workplace and a way to make the most of it. 

Instead, it was a desk job where you ran errand for everyone. Amazing. 

This was supposed to be your first try at “real life”, this was why you took that gap year from college. 

“I want to find myself, find who I really am !” You told everyone around you, ignoring those who were negative and telling you you should finish your study first. 

Now, as you were stuck in a tiny cubicle with an endless list of coffee orders you had to get for everyone else, you felt like maybe they were right, and that this wasn’t quite the way you were going to “find yourself”. 

Then again, wasn’t it through hardship that this sort of things unlocked ? Wasn’t it with great determination and knowing how it was to struggle, that you were going to thrive ? That’s what they said in TED talks dedicated to “success”...

So far in your life, things had been rather normal. Not particularly easy, but not hard either. You grew up in a small town in New Jersey, no troubles on the horizon. You then moved to Gotham for college as you had a scholarship for Gotham’s University, and as you were about to start your third year you sort of questioned wether or not this was your path...

One of your favorite professor told you to maybe take a gap year. A few semesters off, to think things through. Taking advantage of it to do some soul searching and try to know what you really wanted and...It sounded wonderful ! 

That’s when you started to have job interviews in many different fields, and it took you three months to finally find something. Three very stressful months of wondering how long you could live off of your measly savings, and wether or not you’d have to move back in with your parents (anything but that !)...Not a very good start to that gap year for sure. 

And when you landed what you thought was going to be a great job, things definitely were looking up ! Ah, but the fact that you were chosen while you had NO experience and such, should’ve been your first warning that this was too good to be true. 

You were trying to stay positive though. Maybe it was only for the first day ? Maybe their coffee person was sick or something ? It’d get more interesting later ? Yes. Yes let’s keep a positive outlook on everything. 

Except right now, as your entire morning was made of you walking up and down the building (the elevator was not working, but of course), to the coffee shop at the corner of the street, and bringing back orders for people, you didn’t feel in the mood to try and stay cheery. 

And the worst in all that ? You didn't even get ONE cup for yourself…This “real life” thing was not starting very well. 

And so here you were, during your lunch break, looking like a mess, bag under your eyes and still wet from the rain (your trips up and down the street for coffee runs not helping drying yourself off), your morale at its lowest..And…

"That'll be 3 dollars and 50 cents for the large latte with triple espresso shot, m'am."

Catastrophe. 

Proof that things could ALWAYS get worst. 

As you were looking through your bag, you couldn't find your wallet !

Did you leave it at home ?! Maybe. 

People at your work gave you the money to buy them coffee (and not a single tips, bunch of cheapskates). And you didn’t notice you were missing that oh so essential part of your daily life...Your credit card. Or any type of money. 

Damn it ! 

“Um, excuse me miss, that’s 3,50 please ?”

“Oh yes yes, um, you know what I just-” 

“Here, miss, you dropped this.” 

As you were about to explain that in fact, you didn’t need coffee (even if when you asked for it you might’ve mentioned it being a question of “life or death”), too embarrass to admit you didn’t have the money to buy it, a...very handsome man handed you a twenty dollars bill. 

You were a hundred percent sure this wasn’t yours. You never carry lose cash like this. A quick look to his kind deep blue eyes, and soft smile, and you realize...

Oh. Great. A total (very handsome) stranger took pity of you. 

You probably looked even worst than you felt. You were about to say this was a mistake, but before you could, he gave the bill to the barista, and left with a last smile to you, taking his own cup of coffee away with him. 

Damn. You didn’t have time to say “thank you”. He vanished as fast as he appeared, disappearing in the crowd of the busy coffee shop. 

“Here’s your change, m’am.” 

“Ah you know what ? Keep it buddy. Thanks for the coffee.” 

“Wow, thanks !” 

You were pretty sure that barista never had such a big tip, and it oddly made you feel better, to make someone else’s day like that. Your grandma did always say that you found true joy from helping others...

Oh, yeah, ok, you just helped someone out, why was the universe so angry at you ?! 

As you turned around and started to leave, almost at the exist of the shop, mood a little better after this nice encounter with a (again, handsome) stranger, and the barista, you see him. 

Him. One of the reason you sort of decided to take a gap year. 

Him. 

Your ex-boyfriend, Eric, who cheated on you with your friend Monica. Needless to say, it wasn’t a good memory. And you hadn’t seen neither him nor her since you left college, especially not since you heard they actually got together. 

Your FRIEND. With your BOYFRIEND. And it went on for a while, before you finally discovered it (that day was as shitty as today...). 

Oh. And of course Eric wasn’t alone. She, was there too. The one you thought was your friend, and who stabbed you in the back like that. Both of them discarding you like a dirty old sock. 

Great. Really. Awesome. This day was going from “bad” to “please kill me.” 

“(Y/N) !” 

He looks surprised to see you, although also a little pleased. And it makes you want to punch him in the face. You don’t care if it’s because he wished things ended another way, they both betrayed your truth and then never even tried to talk to you again afterward. 

You’re not sure you would’ve forgave them, but at least, it would’ve shown they still cared about you in a way. Nobody chooses who they’re going to fall in love with (that, you’d soon discover for yourself). But she was your best friend. And he was with you for over a year. 

She’s a little more awkward than him, and smiles, clearly embarrassed. You always knew she was a bit of a coward, if she wasn’t, she would’ve face you, right ? 

And that’s when it happened. The decision that would forever change your life.

In this great moment filled with despair and awkwardness.

From the corner of your eyes, you saw that nice stranger who paid for your coffee. The handsome one. He didn’t leave the shop, but instead went to seat at a table that was a little further away than the rest of them. 

His eyes were glued to his phone, and you thought : “Well, fuck it, all this can’t get any worst right ?”

You were sort of hoping that, since he had been nice with you once and offered you those twenty dollars without knowing you (although you were very aware it was probably just pity), maybe he could help again ? 

Maybe it was the fatigue, the fact you were getting sadder and sadder, that you had a terrible day, and that you just saw two people you loved and who threw you away like you meant nothing (oh but not before being super fake to you, pretending they WEREN’T cheating behind your back)...maybe it was a combination of all of that, that made you act crazy. 

But here you found yourself, sitting at that stranger’s table, and saying, as he looked up from his phone clearly surprised : 

“How are you guys ? As you can see, I’m great.” 

You don’t dare to look at the handsome stranger, and hope he’ll be too stunned to say anything, and you can make your ex-friend and ex-boyfriend feel embarrass enough they’ll leave quickly. But then Monica says something that makes your heart skip multiple beats : 

“You...You know Bruce Wayne ?!” 

You turn to the man who gracefully paid for your coffee, and your eyes go wide. Fuck. Fuck. FUCK. How did you NOT recognize him ?! Of course. Chiseled face, beautiful blue eyes, a suit that was definitely worth your entire year’s salary, a very charming aura...

Your hazy mind full of “fuck this day” didn’t register that THE Bruce Wayne, was the one who helped you out. How did you miss that ? His face had been plastered everywhere in Gotham for the past year, since he came back to the city, in fact. 

You hear yourself wish with all your might to be struck by lightning this instant, as the two assholes who hurt you so much are looking at you expectantly and are not about to live (of course, they just met celebrity BRUCE WAYNE !! Could someone be as unlucky as you were today ?!)

And that’s when you hear a chuckle, a beautiful deep chuckle, and finally turn to look at Bruce. He smiles at you, and takes your hand, saying : 

“Honey, who are your friends ?” 

Your brain go full “ERROR 404″, not quite able to grasp the fact that THE Bruce Wayne just ran with what you were trying to do. How ? How was this possible ? You initially went to sit with him in the hope that Eric and Monica would see you were totally ok and with a hot date, not quite sure still yet how you ever thought this was a good idea and...

It was turning out alright ?! 

HOW ?! 

“Oh um, I’m..Eric. And this is my gir...This is Monica.” 

What a piece of shit. Not even brave enough to call her his “girlfriend” when he cheated on you with her for months and months. You glare at him, unable to stop this gut reaction. 

And that’s something Bruce caught. 

In fact, as soon as you sat down, avoiding looking at him and nervously looking at those two people, Bruce sort of knew you were in an uncomfortable situation. One that made you take an irrational decision. 

And oh, he didn’t like the look Eric and Monica gave you. Like they felt superior as they caught you in a bad moment. Bruce hated, people who thought they were superior to others... 

And you clearly seemed in distress and in need of help so...He ran with it. 

Bruce had to pretend to be someone he wasn’t enough that it felt natural, to run along with what your hazy mind thought was a good idea. 

“Nice to meet you, are you friends with-” 

Damn it. He realized he didn’t know your name. Quick thinking saved him, and he managed to keep his tone even, as to hide his hesitation : 

“My love ?” 

His hand around yours felt warm and reassuring, and you still couldn’t believe that, not only a total stranger, but THE Bruce Wayne was helping you out like that. Especially after you had such a bad day. 

Him calling you his “love” made your exes feel very awkward, and they shake their head “no”, suddenly pretending they’re very busy and have to meet up with someone. They leave the coffee shop, clearly stunned, whispering things to each others that you knew were probably : “how did she get a guy like him ?!”

You can’t help but glare at them some more...But then your hand feels cold again, and you realize Bruce let go off it. Well. Duh. Of course he would. 

You turn to him, your feature softening, and say : 

“Are you an angel ?” 

Ah yes. Your defense mechanism. “Humor”. 

He chuckles, and says : 

“Well, I’m afraid not. My butler would think this is very funny. But thank you.” 

Awkwardly, you rub your neck, your free hand nervously turning your cup of coffee clockwise in your palm. You don’t really know how to end this, what : “thanks for that” and leave ? 

“Thanks for the coffee. And for um...Saving my ass, just there.” 

He smiles, and wow hello white teeth and charming dimples ?! 

“You’re very welcome. They looked like they were jerks.” 

“Haha oh you have no idea.” 

“Glad I could help.” 

“Thanks again. Really. This means a lot, especially since we don’t know each others. Well, I know you. Everyone in Gotham does haha. And ok I’m going to leave now, my lunch break is almost over and I don’t want to make this even more awkward.” 

You start to rise up, but he holds you back by catching your sleeve, and says : 

“Actually miss…?”

“(Y/L/N). (Y/N) (Y/L/N).”

“Miss (Y/L/N), you are kind of saving my life right now.”

“…I am ?”

A flash blinds you. Not a lightning, a camera flash. You turn, just in time to see a guy hastily hiding a camera and running away. 

“What the...” 

“A paparazzi. Good timing, for once.” 

“Huh ?” 

You wish you had some witty come back, or would just know what to say. But you’re confused. And this has been a really weird day. 

“I am sorry if this will seem forward, or like I helped you wanting something in exchange. But I promise I will make it worth your while if you just sit back down and listen to me for a few minutes.” 

You sit back down. More because you’re unsure your leg can still support you in this moment, than because he asked you to. With a smile he continues : 

“Thank you. So. Let me explain a little, and again, sorry if this is too forward. If you don’t want to help of course, I would understand. I’m about to ask you something rather odd, I guess. And I’ll clear things up with paparazzis. I also promise I did not help you with your “friends”-”

“They’re not my friends.” 

“I figured that much. And I promise I didn’t help you with them and ran with whatever you were trying, just so I could ask you this.” 

“Ask me what ?” 

“Well, you see…it’s arranged marriage season.”

“What ?”

“Every year, every single rich family try to make me marry their single daughters. It’s a very tiring season, but I’ve never been able to avoid it…I thought about having a fake fiancee before but could never find the right person.”

What he says does not register with you. His clear proposal doesn’t hit your brain. And you just stare at him, waiting for him to keep going. But he doesn’t, and by the way he looks at you, you slowly starts to understand where he’s getting at. 

You gasp, now pretty sure this is all a dream (or a nightmare) and say : 

“And I’m the right person ?”

“Well, yes. You seem to be a...“normal” person.”

“…Thanks.”

“In that case it’s good. It’s very good. It means that if I’m dating you, a woman that has nothing to bring me, then it must be true love.”

“Wow, stop with the flatteries already mister Wayne, I can’t handle it…”

Ah, your slight wits are back. Good sign that you’re regaining your senses. Everything that happened in the last ten minutes still feel like a bad dream, but you’re back in reality now. 

“No no no, I didn’t mean it in a demeaning way ! But it’s just, you’re not rich, and you’re not famous or have political ties. You’re just a regular person. So they won’t think I’m trying to trick them, even if I am, do you know what I mean ?”

“Gotcha. My broke ass person cannot bring you any value, so it must be love and not just an arranged thing they can break. Cool.”

There’s a slight silence. And you find it a little fun, to play a little bit with the famous Bruce Wayne. He seemed so confident and cocky on TV, you never thought you’d be able to make him look so guilty. 

“I’m sorry if I offended you.”

He says, clearly meaning it. But you shake your head and smile at him (and oh why does he feel his heart tightening slightly at your smile ?), and reassure him instantly (you feel a little bad, actually, to mess with him while he did just really do a huge favor to you while he had no obligations to) : 

“Haha, just messin’ around with ya Mster Wayne. I’m not bothered by it, it’s the truth. I’m really broke, and I don’t think you could find more “regular” than me right now. So, and because you really did save my ass from an extremely displeasing experience back there. And also because you allowed me to see those assholes’ face of surprise and “how did she manage that ?!”, tell me more about your plan, and let’s see if I can help you back.”

And so Bruce starts to explain to you how, every year, this beginning of Fall is the worst time ever, as it’s a moment where everyone seems to want to marry off their daughter. And of course, Bruce Wayne is a good “party”. 

The plan was fairly simple. You’d fake a relationship with him, so he could avoid all of this, and in exchange...Well. You’d gain a lot in exchange. 

This is how you started to really feel like you had fallen into a “romcom” by accident...You and Bruce, became an actual living trope. 

************

“And then when the “marrying season” is done, you can break it off.”

“I ?”

“Well yes, I can assure you you’ll gain quite a rep if you break up with me haha.”

You raise an eyebrow, unsure you like that sort-of overly confident side of him. But you can see something behind his eyes, like a slight unsureness as he looks back at you, trying to see if you’ll agree or not.

“I don’t really need a “reputation���.”

Breaking up with THE Bruce Wayne himself. For sure people would talk about it a lot, and maybe it would help open some doors for you ? But you felt a little odd taking advantage of this like that. 

Seeing that he hadn’t convinced you quite yet, he adds : 

“Of course, I will pay you.” 

What kind of Pretty Woman sort of nonsense was this ?! You were about to protest when he added, realizing how he sounded : 

“I mean, you ARE doing me a great service. You ARE going to have to act, you know ? An...actual job ? And I will be honest with you, it won’t be easy, to find yourself in the public eye. I think it definitely justify a salary.” 

Put that way, you had to admit that, well, yeah it sort of did. Especially since you knew how crazy tabloids were about Bruce Wayne. Becoming his “girlfriend” would definitely put you on the front lines. 

“And it would truly help me tremendously.” 

Your grandma always said it : “True joy comes out from helping others !” So. What if you benefit from it a little ? If it helps you financially, and you can get a little network out of it ? First rule of Alchemy (what a weeb) : “equivalent exchange” ! Plus, he did really help you with your coffee, but also with Eric and Monica so...

And hey, this gap year was meant to help you find what and who you wanted to be. Help you go through this little twenty-something crisis. And this ? Living a literal romantic comedy cliche by faking being someone’s girlfriend ? Well, it definitely felt like the kind of adventure that could help you figure things out.  

With a smile, you finally nod and shake his hand, not knowing quite yet in which mess you actually put yourself into...

Briefing. 

Like every “secret mission”, this one too needed a “briefing”. 

A little meeting to put all the rules down, and the goals too. 

And here you were, feeling very out of place in a huge conference room in the biggest and tallest building in Gotham : “Wayne Tower”.  

The concierge stared at you for a very long time, when you said you were there to see Mister Wayne. No “nobody” like you ever called for his boss. 

Suspicious, as it was his job, he called security on you...Until it was finally cleared up that you DID have a meeting with Bruce Wayne ! 

Both the concierge, and the security guys, stared at you as you left to take the elevators they indicated to you, wondering who the hell had the kind of credentials to go all the way up there to see their boss ?! They didn’t recognize you from anywhere, not a model, not a famous politician or CEO, just...A regular person ? 

That was odd. And they noticed, it was odd. Which you assumed was what Bruce was aiming for, but it felt so awkward, to walk through this huge hall under their scrutiny. 

You finally arrived on the right floor, and oh look, some more staring. 

From his secretary, this time. She was used to see women coming to see her boss. But they’d usually wear Prada, and have plunging necklines full of pearls and fanciness. They weren’t...like you. 

You felt like it was easy, to know that you were just a “normal” person. You were definitely not wearing any designer clothes, and you were pretty sure the way you carried yourself made you super obvious. 

Hence all the staring. You could clearly see in her eyes, that she was wondering who the hell you were... 

She had her answer when Bruce came out of his office, and made a gesture as if he was going to throw his arm around your waist, and kiss you (which made you downright panic). But then, he looked awkwardly at his secretary, and instead just shook your hand. 

Something that DID NOT go unnoticed by his secretary. 

You saw how her eyes widen, and how she clearly hitched to take her phone out and call everyone...and you realized Bruce did this awkward thing because he knew his secretary, and her tendency to be a little gossipy. 

You’d discover later, in fact, that he hired her entirely because he knew if he said something, she would pick up on it and it would help him control rumors and such. Clever. 

For the moment though, he took you to a large conference room with huge windows. 

“I’m sorry for the weird “hello” back there, I wanted Shirley to think I was embarrassed to display affection to you in front of her. Usually, I do not mind at all. So doing it would make her think that-”

“I’m someone special to you.” 

“Exactly !” 

He smiles widely as you understood his plan (not sure how you felt about it, then again, that’s why you were here for, making sure you knew where both of you stood in all this), and then tells you he’ll be back in a few minutes. 

You have time to feel anxious and stressed before he finally comes back. 

“Sorry for the wait.” 

“Oh no, I bet you’re a busy man.” 

“Yes well. Anyway. Let’s get to it shall we ?” 

“Yes.” 

“Ok. So. I thought we’d settle sort of a little contract, so neither of us ever feel uncomfortable ?” 

“Sounds good, mister Wayne.” 

“Yes well first, please call me Bruce.” 

“Only if you call me (Y/N).” 

Oh and you two were still on the path of “romcom cliches”, with this conversation. He smiles, nods, and continues : 

“Ok, then I thought we could-” 

And so your fake relationship started, with some little ground rules. Like he could only kiss you after you gave him permission, if you ever felt overwhelmed everything would be called off, etc etc. 

Most rules were in your favor, to be honest. And WOW the paycheck he was going to give you for this little farce...Hey, maybe this gap year was finally gonna get interesting ?

Meeting the Little Buddy. 

It was sort of necessary. By then, Dick had been his son, officially, for a few months. He wasn’t calling him “dad” yet (and Bruce didn’t particularly want him to, at the time...ah but everything change one day, right ?), but they were already family. 

And it was a needed step. 

It wasn’t in the little “contract” you made, and honestly you could’ve refused to meet him but...Well, you liked kids. In another life, it felt like you could’ve been a teacher (A/N : AH, like in this story ;) : “Can you be my dad’s girlfriend, please ?” ). 

And you’d feel awkward, to fake a relationship and not ever meet his boy. 

The first time he saw you, it was at the Wayne Tower, and his eyes widened as he exclaimed : 

“Wow you’re so pretty ! Are you Bruce’s girlfriend ? You’re too good for him, you know.” 

You could feel your heart melt, how adorable this little guy was, right ? You chuckled, and almost full on laughed as you saw how vexed Bruce was by the comment. 

Not that he thought he was too good for you, no, he was just a little unhappy his son was stealing the show, and thought he couldn’t land someone like you...Oh but that, you couldn’t guess at the time, of course. 

“Nice to meet you, Dick. I’m (Y/N). And...I’m not really his girlfriend.” 

“Can you be mine then ?” 

You laugh again. You and Bruce had decided to tell him the truth, Bruce assuring you that kid was good at pretending too. You answer : 

“No, I’m saving him from marriage proposal.” 

“Oooooh !” 

Good at pretending. Dick had no idea what you were on about, but he was very good at acting as if he knew. 

It’s only way later, that he finally got it. By then, he already accepted you as : “his dad’s girlfriend”, and even knowing the truth, there was no way to change his mind. And to be honest, out of everyone, little Dick Grayson was probably the most aware of what the situation truly was. 

He had a knack, to notice how people felt. 

A “family” outing.

Two months in, and it was going GREAT. Faking a relationship was actually pretty easy. All you had to do was hanging out with him (and he was very nice to hang out with), and when a paparazzi was around, quickly kiss his cheek, or hold his hand, or let him put his hand in your hair...All those cute things new couples do. 

Today was one such small date. 

You could see Bruce was nervous, though.

After hanging around with him that many times, you started to know him a little better. Started to know he wasn’t really that persona he portrayed publicly.

He was actually quite a dork. What a pity, nobody else would ever know his real self...Yet, it made you happy you were one of the few in on the secret.

“Ok, out with it mister, what’s up ?”

He looks at you with such surprise in his eyes, as if it was the first time someone guessed what he was feeling...and, well, yes. It was. It was the first time someone who wasn’t Alfred got it. Someone realized something was on his mind. And asked him about it, didn't just ignore and move on. Actually cared to know. 

“I-Um...”

“Well ? Come on, I think literally nothing can surprise me by now, given you know, I’m faking a relationship with a billionaire, and it’s like, my job now.”

He smiles, and he couldn't possibly know how soft his look was, as he gazed at you.

“I...well, people don’t quite believe in us because-”

“WHAT ?! With all the “dates” and kisses and lovey dovey shit we did ?!”

He chuckles at your reaction, loving how honest you always were, and adds :

“The problem apparently is that you weren’t seen with my son yet, so many don’t believe we’re serious.”

“Oh...”

You met Dick. Because it felt like a necessary step to yours and Bruce’s scheme. And you knew he knew this was all fake...But neither of you wanted to confuse the boy in any way so he was kept mostly out of the plan.

“I talked to him, and it’s actually really up to wether you’re comfortable with it or not. I know he wasn’t part of our contract, and I should’ve probably thought about it, I’m sorry. But um...If you’re ok with it, we could..Do things with him, too ?”

Bruce is really nervous; And you’re pretty sure no one but you (and maybe Alfred) ever saw him like that. It’s kind of...sweet. But you let the silence linger for too long and he hurries to say :

“You really don’t have to ! It’s ok if they don’t think we’re that serious and I get some proposals. I can manage ! You’re still a great help right now. It was just an idea. Dick is a very social kid, he would go along with anything and loves to do activities outside. He would be fine. But if you’re not then we can-”

“No. No no it’s...It’s ok Bruce. The few time I saw him, Dick did seem absolutely a peach to be around. And I always have fun with you, so sure, let’s organize a little something and show those bastards we’re totally real.”

You chuckle a little, your smile and carefree face making his heart skip a beat, for some reasons...Bruce also decided to ignore how happy it made him, to know you were always glad to be with him, and instead, he smiled and settled a date.

************

And here you were. In one of Gotham’s biggest park, opening a basket full of delicious sandwiches made by the one and only Alfred. Pretending to have a great family outing.

“Hey, hey look !”

Dick was absolutely amazing, at acting as if you were really a thing. As if you were really a “family”. Right now, he was doing flips and cartwheels, demanding your attention with avidity.

Bruce made sure to always hide his face from pictures (he was GREAT at noticing where paparazzis were hiding, a life of practice, you assumed), as he wanted to keep as much as he could his son’s privacy (especially after he made all the headlines when he lost his parents).

It was quite adorable. And...You were really having fun.

Dick was such a lively kid, and he was full of talents. The food was good, and it was so comfortable around Bruce. It felt so natural.

This wasn't all that bad. To fake being a family. A good use of your gap year, really. 

You purposefully decided to ignore the glint in the boy’s eyes. The way you sort of suspected for him, this was getting real, and not only pretend.

You and Bruce purposefully ignored it, actually. And you both felt shitty for it. Because not only were you risking to break that little boy’s heart when it was all over but...It was too hard to accept that maybe, maybe he was right.

And that all of this ? Might’ve not been as fake as you’d love to repeat yourself.

First Official outing. 

First gala. You were terrified. So far all you had to do was hang out with Bruce in the afternoon, there and there. It mainly consisted in him buying you coffee, and keeping the addiction to caffeine real, while talking about anything that would come to your mind. The conversations between you two was always fluid and pleasant. 

Or you’d go out with him and Dick, to do some fun things like mini-golf or catching a movie. Nothing too big and scary. It was mainly just you guys, no one else. 

It seemed like he knew where the paparazzis would be (most likely because he was “anonymously” tipping them off himself), and he’d take you on random short dates when he had time in between his work, slowly fueling the rumors Bruce was not a heart to steal anymore. 

And that he was dating a “commoner” ! (He hated this name for you, while you really didn’t mind that much). 

And this gala, was what made it completely official. Finally. It was your idea, to take things “slow”, and hang out with him and his son BEFORE hanging out in public areas like this. 

It was clever, really. To make it seems like you were trying to “hide” your relationship by being low-key, to then finally announce everything in public like that, at such an event. 

Bruce went to get a drink for the both of you, and you were looking around you, horrified at the mere idea that someone would come talk to you. 

But for some reasons, nobody seemed to dare. Maybe Bruce made sure that people would leave you alone ? Even as if you were clearly the talk of the evening, all eyes on you, and not even trying to be subtle ? 

You knew he did the same with little Dickie. That he made sure he was safe from the paparazzi and that no unsolicited journalist would come around him.

Thinking of it, where was the little one ? Usually, according to Bruce, whenever there was a gala he would spend his entire time near the food table, eating as much as he could, and he would come home feeling nauseous because of it...Haha sounded like Dick alright. That kid was so-

Oh oh.

Who was that sleazy looking gal talking to him ? He seemed so uncomfortable, yet too polite to brush her off...Oh no, she wasn’t one of them, was she ?

Without thinking twice about it, wether it was your place to do what you were about to do or not, you resolutely walked towards them.

“-Think it’s because he relates to you ? As both of you lost your parents in horrific situations, you know ?”

“I-I don’t know m’am.”

When you saw Dick’s distressed face, and his eyes slowly filling with tears, there was no doubt in your mind.

This woman was not supposed to be there, and was definitely not supposed to talk to that child...

This woman was a - shiver of disgust- tabloid journalist.

Your blood boiled as you saw her take a picture of the teary eyed Dickie, and you were standing protectively in front of him before you could even think about it. When you felt the boy clutch to your sleeve, hiding behind you and holding on for dear life, you knew you wouldn’t regret it.

“Can I ask you why you’re talking to that boy, please ?”

“What, it’s illegal to talk to fellow guests now ?”

“Lady, you’re well in your thirties. He’s eight. You have no right talking to him. Not only is it weird, but I know what you’re doing.”

“Oh, and pray tell, what am I doing, lovey ?” 

“You’re trying to get a story out of him. And you should be ashamed of yourself. He’s eight ! And from what I heard, you were asking some very disgusting things back there !” 

“I-”

“Shut up.”

Your words came out harsh and determined, and the woman was so shocked she stayed silent for a while. You crouch down to Dick’s level, and ask : 

“Are you ok, my little buddy ?” 

He nods weakly, and then burst into tears as he launches himself in your arms, clinging to you tightly. You turn your head towards the woman, glaring at her so fiercely she doesn’t dare to take a picture of the scene, even as she knows she could sell them for a golden price. 

“You should be ashamed of yourself. He’s just a child !” 

The woman was about to say something else, something you knew would fuel your anger further, when Bruce arrived, and it was clear from his face that he was not happy. 

A quick look to you holding his crying son in your arms, and to the lady with the camera in her hands, and he understand what happened. With a cold voice you never heard him use before, he says : 

“I suggest you leave the area now, before I force you to.” 

There was something almost scary, in his demeanor. Almost like...No. Impossible. In any case, you didn’t worry about it much, drawing soothing circles with your hand on Dick’s back, trying to calm him. 

People around quickly stopped staring as they met Bruce’s assassin glare. It was not secret, that he was very protective of his son. And of his new girlfriend, apparently. 

You picked the little boy in your arms (Dick, at the time, was still so tiny), and Bruce comes closer, trying to soothe him too. And it really looked like all this was real...

Dick fell asleep in Bruce’s arms shortly after that, and was still there when it was time for the gala official pictures. Not wanting to wake him up, for once, Bruce allowed people to photograph the boy, as long as they did not frame his face. 

He laid his free hand on the small of your back, and just like you got used to those past months, you pretend to be head over heels for him and have one of your own arm around his waist.  

“Would you please allow me to kiss you on the cheek, for the cameras ?”

His question is so sweet, softly whispered in your ears. And you felt like a tease tonight, and maybe a little tipsy too. You tell him : 

“On the cheek only ? Let’s give them a show no ? Let them forget about what happened with Dick.”

Of course, you’re only joking, but there’s a light in Bruce’s eyes you haven’t seen before and...It disappears quickly. He chuckles, of that low chuckles that would charm anyone in the world, and says :

“I don’t want to force you to do anything you wouldn’t want to. Actually kissing me, I realize, might be too much.”

You know he caught on your joke, but you can’t brush off that light in his eyes that ignited when you suggested to kiss him...You don’t know why, and it feels you’re not controlling your own words, as you hear yourself say :

“Oh because kissing you would be such a horrible thing wouldn’t it ? Oh my, you’re only one of the handsomest man in Gotham, a rather attractive fella, how could I handle kissing you ? So disgusting !”

Your tone is teasing, and a little bit challenging. He catches on that, too. He answers : 

“But I am merely here to serve. I will do as you wish. You only have to say the words.” 

His smile fills your vision. His face. And the way he softly holds your waist, even as his other arms is carrying his son (the man was BUILT). And you think...Well, fuck it ! It was time for the first (fake) kiss, right ? 

Right here, in front of the cameras, where everyone was seeing you. Making it go full circle. Making it “official”. 

“Kiss me then, if you dare.” 

You simply say. Releasing a breath you were unaware you were keeping in. And he feels his heart squeeze, and as if he’s sweating a bit. When was the last time he was nervous about kissing a woman ? 

He couldn’t remember. 

And then he kisses you, the flashes of cameras slowly fading away as his lips melt onto yours. 

Wow. What a perfect, and nice, first kiss. 

As fake as it might be.

Your room. 

Your room at Wayne Manor was bigger than your entire apartment. 

You and Bruce decided that sometimes, so you wouldn’t raise any suspicion, you’d sleep at the Manor. Paparazzi were so on top of everything, it would seem weird if he was in a “committed relationship” and you never slept at his place. 

So Alfred settled a room for you. 

Oh. Alfred ! You met him not long ago, and he was the best ! 

It felt like he could magically guess what you wanted when you wanted it, and magically appeared with that warm cup of tea you craved, or that meal you’ve been thinking about all day. 

But beyond that, he was genuinely nice and made sure to make you as comfortable as possible. He showed you around, and his conversation was so pleasant ! 

You could actually see a lot of Bruce in him. Or, rather, it was evident that Alfred had raised Bruce most of his life, because they had a lot of similar mannerism, and were both kind and caring (Ah, imagine if Superman knew what you thought of Bruce, how crazy it’d sound to him eh ? But of course, that you’d discover way WAY later). 

You never went to explore much when it was time to go to bed, too afraid to get lost. This place was huge, and you never quite had a good sense of orientation. 

One could only wonder, what would you have discovered if you ever dared to wake up during the night, and explore his home ?

Build a Bear. 

Sometimes, Bruce really had to wrack his brain for original date ideas. Ever since he came back to Gotham, his dating days consist of pretending to sleep with every model in the World. 

He’d take them to fashion shows, to galas, to charity events...All very public places, unsuitable for a “serious” relationship like he was hoping to make yours and his pass for. 

Enter : Clever little Dickiebird, who always had an idea (and who might’ve been the best wingman someone like the Batman needed...that, of course, he’d discover it way, WAY later) :

“You can take her to a build a bear !” 

“Build...a bear ?” 

“Yeah, you know. You go and you make your own teddy bear !” 

“I do know, I took you to get Chester - the name of Dick’s favorite plushie toy now, and maybe with which he slept-. But...For a date ?” 

“What ? It’s cute and intimate !” 

“Huh ?” 

It has been a long time, since Alfred Pennyworth had to hold his laughter in that hard, and try to stay impeccably neutral. And there, faced with his master Bruce, who was known as the “ultimate womanizer”, the “perfect playboy”, and who was currently taking advice from his eight years old son...It was really hard to keep a straight face. 

It was also incredibly adorable. Especially how Bruce seemed to genuinely listen to the little one, unaware that he seemed actually way too interested for things just to be for his “fake relationship” to be more convincing. 

Not that Alfred was going to tell Bruce anything. 

“Dick, you know (Y/N) isn’t really my girlfriend, right ?” 

The way the boy talked about taking you to a date, felt to Bruce like he was forgetting this was all fake. And it was important to remind him.

But Dick had to invoke all the efforts in the world to not roll his eyes as to say : “sure she isn’t”, by now, it was oh so obvious to everyone but you and Bruce that there was a very real thing forming between you two. 

Instead, he said : 

“But you’re suppose to make the public really believe it right ? If you take her to build a bear, I can assure you they will think you guys are the real deal.” 

Bruce pondered this for a little bit, and realized that his son was right. It did seem like a cute and intimate date to bring your girl to, even if she was your fake girl...

Ah. Bruce forgot his own words. “Dick is great at pretending.” He is. He really is. Just like right now, he was pretending his idea was completely innocent, while he knew it would bring you two ever so closer. 

That whenever you’d see those bears you were going to build in your home, you’d think of one another. And remember fondly of the memory. 

And oh. Oh that boy was right. 

Your bear was sitting proudly on your couch, and every time you saw it, you remembered how clumsy Bruce had been, filling his own bear up. And how cute he was, carefully thinking of his options. 

And every time Bruce saw his own bear, that Alfred, for some reason, settled in the Batcave on the “trophy shelves” (and for some reason Bruce didn’t take it off of it...), he couldn’t help but think how he had genuine fun that day. 

Genuine fun, for the first time in what felt like ages. And how your smiling and giggling face didn’t seem to leave his mind, whenever he saw that bear...

Conniving traitors. 

“We both agree, he’s in love with her right ? He’s just too dense to realize it.” 

“Oh yes, young Master Richard, he definitely is. And he is dense, at times.” 

“Should we do anything ?”

“No more than what you’re already doing.” 

“Which is ?” 

“Which is continuing to push them in the...Right direction.”

“Oh ! I get it ! I’ll keep going Al’!” 

“And I’m sure you’ll make miracles, young master.” 

Dick’s smile to the old butler was so pure and happy, that Alfred had a hard time keeping his composure once again. 

And oh. Oh how he wish they were right, and that his Master Bruce would FINALLY allow himself to be happy... 

Rumors and Truth 

Bruce was just a tiny bit older than you. 24, according to his wikipedia page. 

And you couldn't help but be a little jealous, as you were looking at the page to re-enroll yourself in Gotham’s university, knowing he was done with college.

Then again, he was obviously a genius and would’ve been done faster than you anyway, even if you were the same age, since he finished his PhD just the year before, while most people don't even START their doctorate until they're around 23/24. 

Mmmm. Made you think. Was this just yet another rumors about the man ? 

Maybe not, after all it was proven he started college at age 14, and in Ivy Leagues ones, all across the world. 

From Cambridge, to Oxford, without forgetting La Sorbonne (A/N : by the way, this is canon haha, Bruce really did start college that early and went to many different places, and honestly, is anyone surprised ?). 

This wasn't really something you absolutely couldn't believe, compared to other crazy rumors about him. And you knew he WAS smart. 

By then, you couldn't count how many things were circulating about him, and how hard it was to know the truth from just plain old rumors. 

He had over a thousand lovers, he had MORE than one PhD (impossible, right ?), he had died once but survived somehow, he was part of a cult, he often lost his status as a billionaire because he gave so much money to charities and such, but his companies meddled in so many areas that his bank account was always filled more and more…

Honestly that last part didn't really surprise you. You saw him gave his money away to things he cared about (like education and medical care) without a second thoughts, so the fact he constantly oscillated between "billionaire" and "multi-millionaire" didn't really surprise you, not when you knew him like you did now. 

You totally trusted the rumors that said that by now, he gave away more than he currently owned. It sounded like him alright…But how to know the truth from the downright crazy ? Did he really have a PhD or was this just an addition to how special and different Bruce Wayne was in Gotham ? What kind of PhD did he have anyway ? 1000 lovers, really ?!

So many questions. And not a lot of answers. Even if you grew closer (as friends, of course), Bruce was still somewhat of a mystery to you. 

He never really tried to dismiss rumors, even the bad ones (unless they touched his son). Which made you wonder if they were true or not. And you really, really, for some reasons, wanted to know more about him...

“Is something the matter ?” 

He asks. Oh goddamn you, day dreaming on one of your regular “coffee date”. 

You shake your head, sipping on your drink and say : 

“Was just thinking about...Tabloids.” 

“Ah.” 

He frowns. For understandable reasons.

“I was just thinking about wether some rumors were true or not.” 

“What do you think is not true ?” 

“I don’t really know, and you never really say a rumor is false so it’s hard to know.” 

“Do you want to know anything in particular ?” 

Bruce knows it’s dangerous, to let you enter his private life like that. There’s a reason, after all, why he never dismisses any rumors. 

It helped build his fake persona, and take away any suspicions that he might be the infamous Batman. 

But he felt weak, around you. As if he just wanted to please you, no matter what. Sometimes, he felt dangerously close to just tell you : “ask me anything and I’ll tell you the truth”, even if it meant revealing his night activities...

Crazy, right ? 

He knew it was. And that he shouldn’t let it happen. Yet here he was, asking if you wanted to know something. Craving your attention. It felt so unlike him. But...You seemed to unlock a certain part of him. 

The one that didn’t die with his parents, and remained hidden. The one that was the old little Bruce, full of hope, honesty and happiness. Full of wish for the future...Even if he knew there was none. 

“How was college, for you ?” 

You hear yourself asking, really wondering if it was true he was 14 when he started, and if it was...How different you guys were, right ? You were 21 right now, and taking a gap year after two years of college...When he was your age, he had already finished a master (or even maybe two). 

"My college years were actually pretty boring, and unlike some rumors say, weren't particularly wild. I was really young."

"Ah, I heard the rumors."

"Those are true, I'm afraid haha."

"Afraid ? You're a genius !"

Which is why you found, more and more, his "himbo" persona to be odd. WHat was Bruce Wayne trying to hide ? Mmm…

Bruce recognized that look in your eyes. The look of someone who was onto something, and it was too frightening to let it happen. So he said :

"Yes well, I feel I missed a lot, during those years. Which is why I make it up now hahaha !"

His boisterous laughter seemed genuine, and totally fooled you. You couldn't always be on top of everything eh ? And this, did answer your question about his himbo persona…Oh, Bruce was good.

And he knew it. He trained for years, to make sure nobody would ever even suspect him to be Batman.

But he had to be careful with you. He knew it. It was obvious. You weren't that easy to fool…

The Day Batman saved you. 

The fact he had to be careful with you was confirmed not long after. When, as Batman, he came to your rescue.

He should’ve known, that even with a voice changer, and a mask covering most his face, plus a demeanor that was completely different from his usual one, you’d still get suspicious...He should’ve known because he, by then, knew you quite well. 

But, what ? Was he suppose to just let you get mugged ? 

He couldn’t. 

Even if in the grand scheme of things, it would’ve been better, and he would definitely intervene if it got too rough...He couldn’t. 

He couldn’t bear the thought of you getting hurt, or feeling distressed.

He knew this was stupid. That he shouldn’t get so attached. That muggings weren’t really his area of expertise, that to stop them, he had to hit the big bosses. He knew. Small thugs weren’t his target. He had a much bigger vision. And rationally, he should be somewhere else right now. 

Yet he couldn’t resolve himself to. Because, and that was a dangerous thought and feeling, he was in l- 

“Why are we spying on your girlfriend ?” 

Dick’s voice takes him out of his reveries, good. It WAS getting dangerous. Still keeping you in his field of vision (you were slowly going back to your apartment, a few minutes still, and he could leave to do other things knowing you were safe and sound in your home), he answered :  

“We’re not spying on her, we’re making sure she’s safe. And she’s not my girlfriend, you know that.” 

“Oh yeah ? We’ve been following your “totally not girlfriend” since the night started, awfully looks to me like we’re um, you know, stalking her.”

“We’re not.” 

“Suuuuuuuuuure.” 

Bruce gives an annoyed look to his son, who had way too big a smug face right now, and says : 

“The night is calm, if something comes up we’ll go. But right now, it’s alright. And it has been made official, that she and I are a couple.” 

“Fake couple.” 

“Fake one to us, not to the public eye.” 

“Ooooooh !” 

Connections were quickly made in the boy’s head, and he understood why they were following her. After all, this was Gotham. And if THE Bruce Wayne had ONE known lover...Well, it was easy to know it’d attract some nasty business. 

Dick was about to make a smug remark of which he had a talent for, when it happened. He pointed at you, fear in his eyes, and Bruce focused your way again. 

“Stay here.” 

“What why ?! I wanna help her too !” 

“Because she’s too smart not to put two and two if she sees you with me. She knows us in our day lives. She’ll recognize us for sure, if we’re together.”

“Oh...”

“Just stay still, ok ?” 

“Ok.” 

Without a second thought, Bruce jumped down in the street down below, under Dick’s worried eyes. If anything happened to you, he knew his dad would never be the same again. 

And he knew he couldn’t bear to lose yet another person he cared about. Even loved. Yes. Yes Dick loved you, as if you really were part of his family...

The months of “faking” family outings made it so. Your worst fear happened. Dick was getting attached, hardcore. And he really hoped you and Bruce would figure out you were actually in love with each others before the end of your “contract”, and before his sometimes very dense dad would decide to let you go...

For now though, he was anxiously looking at Bruce making his way to you, after he spotted a suspicious group of men genuinely stalking you. 

************

“Hey pretty girl, can we talk ?” 

You stop in your track, turning around, cursing yourself for not having the instinct to just take off running. Oh. But you can see at least one of them has a gun. You can’t run faster than a bullet... 

“Ah it is you, isn’t it ?” 

You don’t answer, knowing what they mean. Bruce sort of warned you against this. But you didn't take his warnings seriously, and here you were, going home at night, something he definitely told you not to do. 

You just couldn’t sleep that night, and needed a walk...And here you were. 

“You’re gonna come nicely with us, right ?” 

“I dont’ think so.” 

Uh ? You’re pretty sure that weird robotic voice wasn’t yours. Even if that’s exactly what you wanted to say. And that’s...oh wow. 

That’s when you see him. Batman. 

Immediately, the atmosphere grow even tenser. And you can see the thugs who wanted to take you with them fearfully looking at him. 

“This has nothing to do with you Batman, leave us alone, we didn’t do anything wrong !” 

“It has everything to do with me. Leave.” 

“We have to-You don’t understand. We have to take her to-” 

“Nowhere. Leave.” 

Even if he was protecting you, you had to admit that, that dude was frightening. He had his back to you, and even then, he looked so intimidating and tall and broad...

Bruce was tall and broad too. But he was soft and sweet, not scary at all.

“OH MY GOD LOOK OUT !!” 

One of the thug had a gun pointed at Batman. Right at his head. He didn’t have the time to enforce his helmet yet, and if he shot around his mouth, he was done for...

A rock coming out of nowhere hit the thug right in the face. 

Coming out of nowhere ? To you, maybe. But Bruce knew that this was little Dickie’s doing. “Robin always has Batman’s back”, he said often...

For the time being, the one taking his gun out being knocked out triggered a “fight or flight” reaction in the others, and as two took off running (and were mysteriously hit by rocks too, knocking them out), three decided to attack Batman. 

Bad move. 

Very bad move. 

In a matter of second, it was over. 

He turns to you, and it’s hard to discern any emotions with his lighted eyes and mask. He asks : 

“Are you alright, (Y/N) ?” 

“How-How do you know my name ?”

“Well, you’re Bruce Wayne’s girlfriend, right ?” 

There was no hesitation in Bruce’s voice as, as soon as he pronounced your name, he knew he messed up...but he trained himself to think quickly. And this “fake” relationship was a perfect excuse, of course. Everyone in Gotham knew about you two, by now. 

“Oh, right, ok.” 

You seemed a bit disappointed, and Bruce couldn’t quite understand why...

It only hits him later, as he was going to bed, why you looked like that. And it made hi heart beat widely. Because he was pretty sure that it was because you sort of hoped Bruce talked to “Batman about you...Oh...Oh this was getting dangerous. 

But of course, Bruce had a reputation to be the one funding Batman’s gadget (a really good cover for the fact he was actually Batman). So they’d know each others...

But right there and then, as he just saved you, you felt so stupid, hoping that Bruce would’ve talked to you to Batman. Why would he ? How the hell would your name even show up in a conversation between Bruce Wayne and Batman (but oh, if you knew you occupied his thoughts many times, and who he really was, maybe you’d feel less bad ? It was, in a way, Bruce talking about you to Batman, right ?). 

You smiled weakly and shyly at this impressive being in front of you, and thanked him one more time. He nods, smiling too (oh ?), and bid you farewell. 

Ah. But Bruce didn’t notice your eyes go wide, as he took off with his grappling hook, and you caught the side of his face in a certain light...

Fake ?

"You know, he smiles more when you’re around.” 

Dick tells you once, you look at him curiously, as he continues : 

“And before you say it’s “all pretend”, let me tell you there’s a difference between this smile and the fake one. Look, that’s how he pretend.” 

On that note, he looked at you and smiled widely, exaggeratedly, but his smile didn’t reach his eyes. And it was so like how Bruce portrayed himself in public, that it made you chuckle. 

It also scared you a little. 

Not because there was a possibility Bruce did smile more around you, but because as that little boy was being silly, and now imitating his adopted father further and oh so perfectly...You felt a surge of love for him. 

And that wasn’t good. 

Because the day, which was coming soon now, you’d have to “dump” Bruce Wayne, you wouldn’t be able to see that little one again...why would you ? 

It’d be too weird, right ? Someone like you, once “broken up”, would have no reasons or ways to ever interact with billionaire Bruce Wayne or his son ever again. 

That little boy was the sweetest child you ever met. He suffered a great loss so early in his life, and there he was, making you laugh and being nice by saying you made his dad genuinely smile. 

It hurt, to know that one day, you wouldn’t see him again. That he’d grow up, and you wouldn’t know what he became. 

You were sure he was destined to become a great man, and you wished you could see it...No. No this was bad. This was so bad. 

“I mean it you know.” 

His little voice brings your attention back to him. 

“I think you make him happy. With you, it feels he can be himself. He laughs more, really laughs. And it’s often that he tells me “oh this makes me think of (Y/N)” and calls you. He doesn’t need to call you for the fake relationship thing, right ? Yet he does. That means something. I think he likes you.” 

You shake your head, smiling at this little boy’s wild imagination. No way. No way was THE Bruce Wayne falling for you in any way. Were you guys becoming real friends ? Sure. But it definitely stopped there. Right ?

Oh but if only you knew Dick had a knack to see this kind of things, and to guess people’s real feelings. If only you knew, that yes, Bruce was starting to fall for you...It would make the next episode way less painful for you. 

“Catch me dead before you catch me catching feelings” - You to yourself, a few days before starting a fake relationship with THE Bruce Wayne. 

“Fuck you” - You to yourself, almost six months in faking a relationship with Bruce Wayne. 

This was...bad. 

Soon enough, you and Bruce will break this entire deal off, you will “dump” him, and you’d go on your separate ways. And...

This was bad. 

Why ? WHY COULDN’T YOU JUST HANG OUT WITH THIS AMAZING CHARMING MAN AND THAT’S IT ? Why ? WHY DID YOU HAVE TO GET OUT THERE AND CATCH....

Catch...

Catch those body shivering “feelings”. 

Not just for Bruce though. But for the little buddy too. 

You felt yourself fall for Bruce slowly, and as if it was completely out of your control. But you also felt like if Dick wasn't in your life anymore...You wouldn’t feel whole again. Like he was sort of your son, too, by then. 

This was so bad. How did you get yourself in this mess ? What was that FIRST rule you gave yourself when all this started ? 

Right, “Catch me dead before I catch feelings”. Damn it. 

Thanks GOD the “marrying season” was finally coming to an end. Both you and Bruce settled you’d wait a few weeks after it to make your break-up official, so nobody would be tempted to cancel any wedding plans to try and force their daughter onto him.  

And it couldn’t happen soon enough. 

Being around him now, faking being in love, was torture to you. 

Kissing him knowing he felt nothing. Holding his hand in public while you knew in your heart he was just putting a show still. And hanging out with him feeling that you had absolutely no chance of this ever evolving...

It hurt.

It hurt so bad. 

And you were slowly hoping you never agreed to being his fake girlfriend. Being a living cliche, the money and the fame were REALLY not worth the heartache. 

So not worth it...

The end...?

"Well mister Wayne, it has truly been a pleasure to be your "girlfriend" haha. Seriously, I had a lot of fun, and a little revenge on life. You know, I saw Eric and Monica not long ago. They tried to become my friends again, knowing I was with you. It was great, to ignore them like they ignored them. You’re right, they’re really not worth it. And honestly I still don’t think we’re even after they hurt me like they did but...In the end, they looked so outraged. Win-win, really. Thank you very much."

"Thank YOU, for playing along and doing more than you bargained for. You really saved me a lot of hassle and…I had fun, too."

Your taxi was pulling in front of the Manor, and honked as he parked. Clearly, not a very patient driver.

"Well, see you around, Bruce ! If you're not too busy, you know…I kinda consider you a friend by now ?"

"Me, too."

Bruce lied. A "friend" ? No, it couldn't cover and explain all his feelings for you. A "friend". How ridiculous.

As you walked away, giving him a last smile, Bruce felt a pang in his chest.

A painful and yet happy one. A longing one. One that told him that "friend" wasn't what he wanted to be…Not anymore…

But was there really a future for you and him ? Probably not. His nightly activities would get in the way. You deserve more than the life he could give you. Being his "fake" girlfriend, you only took part in his public matters. Part in a fake world full of nice things, that was far from his actual life.

"Friend", he wished he could be more to you than this.

But he knew.

He knew that for your own good, he had to stay away. And oh, oh how he wished he could be more than just your "friend" or "fake" boyfriend. 

Yet he watched as you walked away. Without doing anything. 

He watched you leave, and felt the hole in his heart expand a little more. But didn’t try to catch you, or stop you from leaving. 

And your taxi was already far, now. On its way to Gotham. 

"So you gonna run after her oooor…??"

Dick's little voice takes him out of his reveries.

“Mmm ?” 

“(Y/N). Are you gonna run after her, or stand there looking like a sad puppy for the rest of your life ?” 

“I do not look like a sad puppy.” 

“Yes you do, and you know it. Come on dad, why are you doing this ?” 

This was the first time Dick called him dad. Which didn’t go unnoticed to Bruce. It meant...It meant something was definitely happening. He felt it in his heart. Something that was dangerous. Oh so dangerous. 

Hope. Like the “old Bruce” had. Hope. Full of it. Before his parents were murdered in front of him, for no reasons. Meaningless. 

Hope. 

To have a family again. Ah. But...Being with you was impossible. And Dick would be enough. He would. He was already enough... 

“How long are ya gonna torture yourself exactly ?” 

That boy was too smart for his own good. Bruce said : 

“I’m not. I just...I can’t be with her.” 

“I cAn’T bE wITh hEr !! ...Why ?!” 

“You saw what happened, when it was made official we were together. She almost died.” 

“And you saved her. Your point being ?” 

“Dick...”

“Don’t -he takes a mock Bruce voice- “Dick” me mister ! You’re afraid to be happy, and I won’t have it. You gave me another chance to have a family. A dad. And I’m not about to let my dad punish himself for feeling good. You told me yourself my parents would like for me to be happy. Well yours would too, you big idiot ! So now, you listen to me.” 

Dick, meaning business, jumps on the stairs’ bannister to sort of be on eye level with Bruce, and says, pointing his finger at him : 

“You take one of those fancy useless sport car, and you run after her. Capish ?” 

There’s a moment of silence. During which Bruce is unsure of what to do. And then...Then he smiles at his son. 

His son. 

“Capish”, he simply says, and he rushes towards the garage’s entrance, under Dick’s happy look. 

Success. 

Bruce’s car was leaving the estate, when Alfred joined Dick at the front door. 

“You did it, Master Richard.” 

“I hope I did !” 

“Oh you did. You did. Thank you. Thank you for taking care of my son...”

Dick turned to Alfred, who couldn’t keep a straight face this time. Small tears gathered in the old man’s eyes, and sweet little Dick did not hesitate one second before jumping into his arms and giving him one of his famous “Grayson special” hug. 

It’s real. 

Back to square one. 

You. A bad day. Looking like a mess (this time not because of the rain, but because you cried a lot). Your gap year almost over and still not knowing who you were. With no coffee, but at least, you had a tub of ice cream. 

You already missed Bruce. And Dick. And Alfred. 

You couldn’t believe those six months of “faking” would end up meaning so much to you, and feel so devastating as they ended. 

You wish you had never met Bruce. And that you’d been ridiculed by Eric and Monica, that your life would still be pathetic...Pathetic maybe, but at least, your heart wasn’t completely shattered. 

You don’t hear the hurried knocks on your door, at first. Entranced by your own sadness. It’s only when they become loud and insistant you react. 

You really hope it’s not a journalist. They sort of tried to talk to you so many times, since you “dumped” Bruce...You knew he made sure that they’d stay away, but some were particularly persistent. 

Including that awful woman from the charity, who was asking Dick those horrible questions. “Vicky Vale”, was her name, apparently. What a witch. 

Clearly, the knocking wasn’t gonna go away, so you stood up, settled your tub of ice cream on your coffee table, and went to the door, ready to fight if need be. 

But there was no need for fights. 

At least, not in the literal sense of the term. 

“Bruce ?” 

He seems out of breath. Incredible, given how in shape he was. He doesn’t really leave you any time to say anything else, as he blurts out :

“I was wrong.”

He blurts out out of nowhere, and you’re even more confused. Before you could ask what was all this about, he adds : 

“I was wrong. When I said you were the right person because you were “normal”. You’re everything, BUT “just a regular person”. You’re the most fantastic woman I’ve ever met. You decided to help a total stranger just because. I know I helped you before, but it doesn’t compare to what you did for me. Especially on a matter that seems so silly to me now. You put yourself in a very awkward position for someone you didn’t even know. In front of the public, for a guy like me. You knew I was a “playboy”, and that I could very well use you. Yet you still put up with it. You accepted my son, even as you didn’t have to. Even as, just like me, you are so young. You were nice to Dick, even if all you needed to do was pretend. You’re...You’re...You’re just something else entirely. It feels like you know me, the real me. Like you can read my very soul. Like you’re the only one for me. I’ve known for a long time. I ignored it because I was afraid of what that meant but...but a certain little one made me realize this was time. It’s time to move on. It’s time to allow myself to be happy. And so, here I am.”

Was this...it ? The point of your gap year ? To discover that finding yourself...Meant finding your soulmate ? 

It sounded silly. While at the same time, not. Because you felt it. You felt it deep within you. From the moment Bruce handed you that twenty dollars bill, fate was in motion. 

You meeting Eric and Monica wasn’t bad luck. It was the opposite. It was the Universe’s push towards your real Destiny. 

Towards Bruce. 

“You’re not saying anything. Is this bad ? Or does it mean I blew your mind away ? I’m clearly hoping for the latter...”

Over the months, you discovered how huge of a dork Bruce Wayne could be. Even as if there was often a darkness right behind his smiles. Deep within his eyes. You discovered he wasn’t always this cocky arrogant man he portrayed himself to be while in public. How he was actually pretty funny and oh so empathetic. How...How so many things, the list seemed endless in your mind. 

And it only added to everything, that he looked so unsure. And so you smile. You just smile at him. And everything you feel is in that smile. 

You don’t even realize you’re holding each others now, and that you’re kissing...

It’s not pretend this time. 

A real first kiss. 

Though maybe all your kisses until now weren’t as fake as you pretended them to be. 

In any case, this, right now, is a real kiss alright. 

A real one. 

Full of all the pent up emotions. Free of all the fear and hurt you both felt as you realized you were in love with the other one, yet you thought things were all “fake”. 

Because it wasn't fake. It wasn’t. 

“I love you.” 

You don’t know who said it first. You, or him. You felt so in sync, that it didn’t matter. What is sure, is that you both said it. Before you closed the door to your apartment, leading him in. 

Before you spend the night in each other’s arms.

Bruce not even thinking about going out as Batman..

For the first time in years, he decided to fully embrace being happy. 

“You always told me my parents would wish for me to be happy, well yours too !” Dick said. And oh, he was so right.

By the way, I’m Batman. Surprise. 

“It’s not like I didn’t know, you know.” 

“Huh ?” 

Oh. Oh the delight to see that surprised expression on Bruce’s face. It was quite a rare one, really. And as he finally gathered the courage to tell you who he really was, risking losing you in the process but wanting to show you his full self...

It was particularly delightful. 

“Busted you on that night you saved me. As if I wasn’t going to recognized that jawline.” 

“Wait, really ? I really thought you bought my lies !” 

“Well now, you know not to underestimate me.” 

“I...Do.”

A natural smile reaches his face, and he approaches you, pulling you to him, and laying a soft kiss on your lips. Feeling fully accepted and loved, like never before. And he could see you-

“Oh NO EWWWWWW !!!” 

You pull away from Bruce’s kiss (noticing his slow grumble, displeased to lose  your warmth), and look at little Dickie (your son too, now !), staring at you two, looking disgusted. 

“Get a ROOOOM !!” 

This makes you laugh. A lot. And oh. Oh how would you ever guess, in that moment, that one day, this “get a room !!” said in such a disgusted tone would be the trademark of your children (SIX OF THEM) whenever they’d see you and Bruce display any sort of affection to one another ? 

You couldn’t guess, of course. But even in that moment, as you softly laughed, in Bruce’s arms, while looking at your son now making exaggerated noises and acting silly, you knew this...

This was what you’ve been looking for during this gap year. 

This was who you were. 

Right there. 

At the heart of a loving family, even if right now, it was just the three of you (four, let’s not forget Alfred !). 

The end. 

_________________________________________________

And here we are. I hope you liked it ? I feel particularly nervous about this one haha. Don’t hesitate to leave a little comment and reblog :),  It’s always greatly appreciated, and encouraging :D. Thanks in advance, and see you soon with a new story ! 

[strawberriesinmoominvalley]

how to write a panic attack

something like this has probably been made before, but i thought i’d throw my two pence in. so, here’s how to write a panic attack by an anxious mess

what is a panic attack?

a panic attack is where someone feels terrified and scared, without being in any real danger. they mainly occur with people who have anxiety disorders and/or ptsd, although they can happen to anyone.

however, a panic attack isn’t just fear. it causes a physical response. you brain perceives a threat, and goes into fight/flight/freeze. adrenaline is released, your body prepares to react. you become focused on the danger, because your brain has seen a threat and is trying to protect you from the non-existent danger.

what causes them?

panic attacks can happen for no reason, however there is usually a cause. these can be anything, from “this room is loud” to “someone just triggered me by mentioning something to do with my trauma” to “i read something about a phobia i have”. 

if someone is already stressed, or tired, or just not having a good day, that will increase the likeliness of a panic attack. something that might not cause a panic attack on a normal day might cause one on a bad day. sometimes lots of things build up until your brain can’t take it anymore. 

triggers can seem very small. for example, if you’re talking about trauma, it could be the abuser’s name, or a smell that reminds you of something. they can be things that scare a character, or a song -  anything, really. they can seem insignificant, but can cause catastrophic consequences. 

symptoms

everyone experiences panic attacks differently. symptoms are a grab bag and no two people will experience them the same. most people will experience shortness of breath and a racing heart, but apart from that it’s really up to you. the combinations can be weird and strange but hey, that’s anxiety. i’m not going to be able to list every singly symptom here, but i’ll try to list as many as i can:

crippling fear - it comes on the tin, but it can vary. sometimes you’re just terrified, sometimes it feels like nothing good is ever going to happen again, and the world is always going to feel this way. you feel impending doom and fear and it is Bad

being convinced you are going to die. there isn’t really a better way to describe this, you just know this is the end and it is awful

feeling like you are out of control. this usually comes with the more severe ones, as it can feel like you are going crazy

a racing heart - your body feels like it needs to fight or flee from something, so it is preparing to do so

shortness of breath - this is terrifying. it can feel like something is pressing into your chest, and your throat is closing up. you can choke and gasp and never feel like you have enough air. this usually causes you to hyperventilate

dizziness and feeling lightheaded - this usually comes from hyperventilating. your character may hand to sit down suddenly, or, if they’re stubborn like me and refuse to for whatever reason, just dramatically faint

feeling nauseous - most people will feel sick/have terrible stomach cramps, but not throw up. i have, but it’s happened only once

hot/cold flashes

sweating

goosebumps

chest pains - from my experience, your chest just aches and feels heavy, although sometimes it can cause you to double over in pain

crying - anyone can cry during a panic attack. it can cause them to hyperventilate worse, because it’s hard to breathe when you’re sobbing

screaming - sometimes anxiety can come out of anger. they might scream incoherently at people, and can completely wreck their voice in doing so

loss of speech - this can be awful, especially if you’re trying to communicate to someone what’s happening

shaking/trembling - everyone shakes when they’re anxious, but imagine your whole body doing it. you can’t control it, and can barely control your actions

ringing/buzzing ears - this can be mild, or to the point where you can barely hear

talking to yourself/babbling/repeating phrases - your speech isn’t going to be functional. at most, answering yes/no questions and maybe being able to partially describe what’s going on. but mostly, think “ohmygodohmygodohmygod” or “fuckfuckfuckfuckfuck”

freezing - the character might lose the ability to move anywhere. and i mean, they could be in the middle of a road and just freeze. it’s not good

pacing/fidgeting/not being able to stay still - they might throw things, jump around, might even partake in self-injurious behaviour

spiralling thoughts - even if there isn’t a trigger, the character’s inner monologue is going to loop and be incoherent. they’re going to repeat the same thoughts over and over and over. sometimes, when they’ve had it enough, they may also have the “not this again” complaint before the spiralling starts

feeling weak, like you might collapse

derealisation - feeling like everything around you isn’t real, and feeling detached from your surroundings. it feels like your in a dream-like state, or experiencing everything behind glass. it is terrifying. this can cause you to panic more, and may even hurt yourself trying to sense the world

depersonalisation - feeling detached from your body and like you aren’t real. imagine staring in the mirror and not recognise who’s staring back at you. again, terrifying and can lead to harming yourself

these aren’t even all the symptoms you can experience. there’s a lot, and can vary depending on the cause of the panic attack and the severity. for example, i tend to only derealise/depersonalise during a trauma-induced panic attack. symptoms change over time, and some symptoms may only happen during one panic attack and then never again.

writing the panic attack

now, i’m going to break this down into three sections - before the panic attack, during, and after

before the panic attack

first you need to start with the cause, which i’ve already spoken about. once you have that, you need to slowly increase the symptoms. it takes about 30 seconds for the anxiety to set in, so during that time you have to slowly introduce symptoms. if the character realises what’s going on, they may try to use coping mechanisms to stop it, or at the very least make it nicer (i’m going to talk about coping mechanisms a bit later). maybe they can feel their heart pounding, or all their senses sharpen, or their thoughts start to sharpen. it isn’t instant, there’s a build up to it.

during this time, they might run. this is extremely dangerous. they will not have the mental capacity then to think about danger. they could run into roads, hurt themselves in some way or just get lost. this is the one of the only times where a person can override the person’s wishes not to be touched (the other being if they are hurting themselves). them being safe is the highest priority.

during the panic attack

the thing about panic attacks is that they snowball. they get worse and worse until you manage to calm down or just get too exhausted to carry on. panic attacks are terrifying, but the symptoms make it twice as scary. it’s not fun.

you cannot reason your way out of them. your character is going to latch onto worst-case scenarios and nothing will ever be good again. they’re going to spiral, think of the same things over and over and over. they’re not going to think “oh no, i’m panicking”. they might have some control over their thoughts if this is their fiftieth as opposed to their third, but they’re still going to be pretty incoherent.

if this is their first one, they’re going to call an ambulance. i’m not joking. a lot of people have no idea what’s going on, and think they’re dying. it takes a few times for them to piece together what’s going on, and realise they’re having a panic attack. even if they know exactly what’s happening and it’s a regular occurrence, it is still terrifying. at one point, i was having panic attacks ever single day. i knew what was happening, but it was still awful.

the way your character can react can change how it presents. for example, if your character is stubborn, or feels like they’re “weak” because of it (which is totally untrue), maybe they’ll try to hide it. i get dizzy when i have a panic attack, and i used to hide it until suddenly i fainted. so from an external perspective, i was fine and then suddenly i was on the floor - although if someone knows you well, they can work it out regardless, so that can be a nice way to incorporate another character.

maybe your character doesn’t want to address the fact they’re having a panic attack. they could be visibly having one, but point-blank refuse to admit it. this can help show personality, while showing that they’re struggling.

panic attacks can last a few minutes. they can last hours. they are described as brief, but my shortest one has been around 20 minutes - which really isn’t short. my longest was 2 hours, and unsurprisingly, it was my worst. when you’re reaching the 45 minute mark, the format changes. then, it’s more like waves - you get really really scared and it feels awful, then you slowly start to calm down before it starts again.

after the panic attack

once the character has started calming down, whether because they’ve realised it’s been hours and they’re not dying, pure tiredness or getting symptoms under control, they are going to be exhausted.  i’ve passed out from exhaustion before. i’ve fallen asleep in awkward paces (like the middle of the street) because it is so tiring. if they’re outside/at work/school/etc. send them home (this doesn’t happen in real life much, but you can make your world a nice, supportive place). they won’t be able to do anything more taxing than making a cup of tea and cuddling up somewhere. they might not even be able to do that. they might even need someone to grab a blanket for them because the effort is too much.

most people feel more calm afterwards, but you can get awful stomach cramps from the anxiety. but most of the time, all they’re going to feel is tired. don’t put them into a battle. maybe if it’s the morning, they might be able to do something not too taxing in the evening. but most of the time, they’re going to be wiped out.

coping mechanisms

coping mechanisms 90% of the time won’t fix it. a lot of the time, you just have to wait it out. knowing what’s happening helps a lot, and if a character has experienced panic attacks a lot they might understand what’s going on. however, this isn’t always the case. i derealise and depersonalise a lot during panic attacks, but that means that a lot of the time i don’t know what’s happening. it’s terrifying. knowing is a thousand times better than not knowing what’s happening.

obviously there are many breathing techniques - for example, inhale for 4 seconds, hold for 7, exhale for 8. there are grounding techniques - 5 things you can see, 4 things you can gear, 3 things you can touch, 2 things you can smell, 1 thing you can taste. however, i often struggle to remember these because my brain gets pretty frazzled. but they DO work, if you want to include those.

a lot of people say you should hug someone, and to that, i have one word - NO. most people do not want to be touched in that situation, and hugging, especially if it’s a trauma-induced panic attack, could induce flashbacks and cause them more harm. some people do want to be hugged. some people want to be left alone. some people want to be guided through breathing, or given water, or talked to, or to hold a a hand. but!!!! please make your character ask. if that’s all you take away from this, just remember that you have to ask before you touch someone!

everyone copes differently, so bear that in mind

i want to include friends/family/significant others. how do i do that?

if the person is with someone who they feel responsible for, or have never reacted like this around them, they may try and hide what’s happening. this can make it worse, and it is less fun. i don’t want to have a panic attack around my younger sibling, so i try and hide it for as long as i can. so that’s something to think about.

if you want a cute moment where a s/o saves the day, this is not going to be it. a hug from someone nice isn’t going to magically cure the panic attack. hell, a hug might not even help at all. panic attacks are messy and awful. they can give them water, maybe talk to them, try to help them. honestly? the person is going to feel inadequate. there isn’t too much you can do, unfortunately, and they’re going to probably end up sitting there repeating the same few things over and over. but you know what? a love interest sticking with someone during the frightening, ugly hours of terror is sexy.

if you want cuddles, think about afterwards. as i have said, the person is going to be exhausted, and a lot of people will need comfort afterwards. they may even cry a lot, because they feel awful. if they’re not up to that, well maybe your other character can tuck them into bed, or run them a bath. you can have sweet moments, but wait until afterwards for the other to look after them.

-

there we go! i hope i’ve covered everything! if you need help writing scenes like this, message me - i’d be honoured to help!

[steve0discusses]

S5 Ep 3: Apdnarg is Really Hard to Spell

 Yo guys, people are getting vaccinated, the sun is parting through the clouds, and I felt so nice that I even stopped listening to quite so many throwback 00′s BTS mashups (and yet I keep clicking on these dissonant catastrophes thinking “this time it’s got to be better. This time they’ll figure it out.” and like, no. Turns out you can’t match Brittany’s Toxic with BTS’ Black Swan. You can’t do that.)

This must be a sign that things are getting better. If anything, it means my personal tastes are improving. I mean I only clicked on like 3 “Dark Academia” Playlists where I could pretend I’m some sort of spooky witch in an abandoned library with a bad music player and basic taste in classical music (like can we ban Satie from Youtube for a little while?). Hell, I might even do a prompt update to this blog!

Yeah, you heard me, I’m actually going to stay ahead of the update schedule for Yugioh Abridged (maybe. I haven’t actually watched cuz of spoilers, I just noticed the thumbnail pop up on Youtube and was like “Damn it, they came out of hiatus??? I got hurry UP.”)

Anyway, speaking of the sky parting.

I’ll have you know my bro said this is actually more like a circumcision and it was one of the worst thing I have ever heard.

We get a chance to take in this lineup of confusing and varied character designs, and Joey. who is...still Joey.

The animators probably had to hold a strike in order for them to put Yugi in the audience, lets be real. There are TOO MANY PEOPLE in this shot and one is wearing a turban where you draw every single wrap. I hope those artists charged by the line.

Tea has a subplot where she’s just very frustrated with everyone she knows. They have been traveling together for like many weeks and got trapped in a foreign country so I get it. But at the same time, it’s kind of hard to picture Tea with female friends.

Because right now you got this 12 year old child, the other duelist who does not care about anything besides cards, and Kaiba’s 3 dragon cards that we’ve all collectively decided are female.

Hell it’s almost like the writers are asking themselves why Tea is here. Maybe they forgot. There’s no more ghosts to bus, no more people to knock out with her ass with random Olympic feats. Tea’s just sidelining.

(read more under the cut)

Mokuba is a itty bit bit taller this season, and so I guess that means he can legally climb on top of the cherry picker in order to give a riveting speech.

Really says a lot about Mokuba that he is so unphased about talking to, I dunno...an entire planet of people. Kind of a shame we never see this courage from Mokuba used for anything other than talking really, really big and giving everyone around him a really hard time.

Mokuba takes a moment to dunk on Yugi Muto, as is Kaiba tradition.

And then introduce the first pair of duelists, which obviously must be between the few people in this tournament that we actually know and care about.

Thankfully, in between last episode and this episode, Yugi has figured out who his own Grandpa is. This is a relief, because Yugi is such a mess, that I was fully convinced it would take over half a season for him to recognize it. I mean how long did it take him to figure out he shares a body with a ghost? Like half a season?

Instead Yugi recovered gracefully from not recognizing his grandpa, but it’s not like he bothered to tell anyone else, so the rest of our cast is just gonna be like “Is he my hairdresser? The guy who delivers my mail? Who is this guy who made absolutely no significant changes to his outfit or voice?”

Like sometimes this show goes full Spongebob silly kid’s show and you never know when to take it seriously or not. They might be sacrificing the entire cast next episode. I really don’t know. But for now their big concern is who is grandpa??? Like an innocent card version of “Are you my Mother?”

Faced with public speaking, Yugi decides to have a melt down.

We have seen him face monsters, we’ve seen him on TV dozens of times, he’s been in multiple competitions...but give a speech? Of course he can’t do that. The kid doesn’t attend enough school to know how to do that. Them’s learning skills.

And that was when a newly assembled wife-jet spliced through the sky like a souped up razer scooter and deposited 1 fully equipped Seto Kaiba in a Buzz Lightyear jetsuit.

THE RECOVERY.

Seto always watching over his Brother, ready to save this awkward party if it kills him (and it really should, that suit is held together by two seat-belts), making sure to get on that platform before Yugi starts going off about how he’s half an Ancient Egyptian. (Ah, life before social media. You could just be hella famous and also half a dead dude and people would just not know. I kinda miss the time before I knew literally everything about everyone.)

Please admire how close those flames are to setting Mokuba’s heavily hairsprayed mane completely alight. It would be an unforgettable spectacle.

These were absolutely just random ass jet packs that Gozaburo Kaiba made to kill hell tons of people, right? Like Seto found it in the family cabin, clutched to the heart of some crispy fried corpse and was like “neat! Mokuba! I found a cool toy!” and just plucked that thing out of that skeleton’s clutches and has been flying around for months?

Like this is Seto Kaiba’s Butter Glider, right?

Seriously what type of vehicle license do you need for one of these things? RIP My ‘Seto only has a scooter license’ headcanon.

Which I’m only even thinking about because I’ve had to try and make an appt with the DMV for days to get a freakin REAL ID. I went to sleep in 2019 and I could fly on a plane. I woke up in 2021 and it’s like “Want one last screw you?” and just...can 2020 please stop screwing me over? It’s March.

Anyway, the Jet is removed soon after, so no, this is not part of his new outfit. He goes right back to his Post-S4-Trauma-Normcore.

After wrestling this competition out of his brother’s hands and confusing everyone in the audience, Roland must have gotten the memo to cut the microphone before Seto got too excited and we were quickly ushered on to the next stage of the tournament.

One sec...the BTS Mashup playlist I just clicked on did a Black Swan X 7 rings mashup and it’s the worst thing my ears have ever heard.

Holy crap. I had to actually turn down my volume. Like...Ariana Grande already has music that has way too many overlapping singing parts on it--and then lets just stick a 52-person boy band on top? That’ll fix it. Yeah. Go ahead.

Wow. Even I had to change the song and you know how much I enjoy pop culture mistakes.

Spot the Mickey but like a million times easier because it’s a Massive Dick Shaped Dragon.

Yep. That’s my grocery shopping outfit. Except maybe not a lab coat and a duel disk. Wish I had a duel disk, that would make social distancing just a hell ton earlier. Just a “Yo, only one person in checkout, please” and then bap them on the head with a propelled discuss/hologram.

Anyway, Grocery shopping/Doctor man dueled the Purple Hair Boy, and considering that Purple Hair got screen time and shook Yugi’s hand once--I think that Doctor man doesn’t stand a freakin chance.

Good. I hate him.

Also, every time he breathes he’s gonna fog up his glasses. I have experience in this area. He can’t read his own cards in the same way I can’t read my phone if I’m in the refrigerated aisle.

So the way this tournament works, is everyone has to sit in the stadium to watch the show. Kinda like showing up to a football stadium just to watch a recorded TV monitor...but then again...that is how it feels to watch a football game at a football stadium when it’s live (at least with the tickets I usually get.)

And as we watch Grandpa waiting for his competitor, we find out that his competitor (Joey) is too busy eating snacks to give him the time of day.

Why do cartoon hot dogs always have lettuce? Is that seriously supposed to be relish? Or is there a place in the world where you put lettuce on your hot dog?

Sorry, bro has just informed of his favorite hot dog order, which is absolutely terrible so I will share it with you: a Five Guys hot dog with ketchup, mustard, pickle relish, onions, mushrooms, pickled peppers, and you guessed it--topped with freakin lettuce.

My own kin. How am I over 30 and just finding out that my baby brother thinks it’s normal to walk into a restaurant with normal god-fearing law-abiding people and order lettuce and mushrooms on a hot dog?

I have fully failed him.

The rest of this episode is watching both Joey Wheeler and Mokuba have a shared panic attack while Seto does freakin nothing.

Please remember that Seto has both a jetpack and a dragon wife plane and could have easily solved this problem. But nah.

Then again, Seto Kaiba has given this crew so MANY rides, that maybe he’s tired of being the Soccer Mom for the team?

Like they don’t actually say this episode, but Seto was the one in charge of like...this entire place, do you think he made the 2 for 1 special just to get Joey where it hurts the most? Or does it actually not take any subterfuge to screw Joey Wheeler because he’s just naturally this way?

Like Mokuba wasn’t there when Joey was told “stay right here, and then we will all go together to fight Dartz” and Joey was like “I’mma save Mai from herself although she told me not to!” and then he Hella Died. But, Mokuba did see the result, AKA, Joey’s dead body being carried on the back of Tristan. Maybe Mokuba never realized that Joey died because he went out of his way to be late?

Lets do a tally of every time I can recall with my dodgy memory that Joey was threatened to be DQ’d/pretty much was DQ’d either by his own fault or no fault of his own

-When he wasn’t allowed to go on the boat to Murder Island because he was a stupid nobody kid who did not have a dueling glove

-When he wasn’t actually supposed to be in Pegasus’ tourney and was, in fact, secretly using half of Yugi’s entrance ticket the entire time

-when Bandit Keith stole the ticket that Joey got from Yugi so then Joey had to borrow Mai’s ticket although she had just used it so it really shouldn't have counted. Because, really anyone could have just piggy backed off of each other’s ticket until the whole boat went through that castle.

-When his account was hacked to get entered into Kaiba’s tourney when Kaiba very clearly told him he could not apply solely because he was Joey Wheeler.

-When he was late to his sister’s eye surgery because he got mugged by Marik’s Rare Hunters, so she almost refused to do the surgery.

-When Joey got possessed by Marik, and as Marik, threatened to murder everyone else in the tournament including both of the Kaiba brother’s who’s tournament it was, and then chained himself to Yugi Muto to throw both of them to the bottom of the ocean.

-I think there was a point when he threatened to attack Kaiba in Kaiba’s own tourney while not possessed? Like several times?

-when he got struck by Lightning and almost did not stand up fast enough after being struck by lightning, which is apparently a type of DQ in Duel Monsters.

-When he tried to save Mai from getting hit by a fireball, but then Yugi did it instead, and then so many people were standing on the dueling platform that Kaiba couldn’t possibly DQ them all.

-When he entered the restricted area of the blimp in order to hassle Kaiba into landing the Blimp, which Kaiba did not do.

-When Marik killed Joey before Joey could press the “go” button on his duel disk to play the card that should have won Joey the match.

-When he was dueling a lawyer in a digital universe but then the dice was like...weighted? So Noah had to walk over and be like “The hell is this weighted dice? This is my perfect digital world? How did you even do that?” and then Joey won because the match was no longer legit.

-When Joey yelled at Noah too much and so Noah turned Joey to stone for being a rude ass spectator

-When Mai was like “Wheeler and Valon, listen closely: do NOT murder each other” and then Joey did a murder on Valon so she was like “I guess I have no choice, I was very clear” and killed Joey straight up.

-When Joey decided to block Seto’s fireballs while Joey Wheeler WAS a playing card, somehow disrespecting both Dartz and Seto Kaiba at the same time.

-When Joey was playing cards but then got absorbed into a giant Leviathan and basically couldn’t play anymore after that.

-There’s probably hell ton of S0 stuff I just haven’t seen yet.

-This episode

And Joey runs fast for a montage of wacky things that really have no business being in a theme park. Things like this:

(remember when Bakura almost died from a rock that ended up being a balloon? It comes full circle.)

The stuff that the Kaiba brother’s think is normal and fun.

Anyway Joey fights off a bunch of hologram snakes and bats and everyone is like “Should we tell him it’s just holograms???” And it’s like wow, guys, how many times have these ‘holograms’ straight up murdered Joey Wheeler and everyone else on this cast? Too many? Because I have a google doc with so many deaths on it. 7,805,844,048, to be exact.

Anyway, he gets there with five seconds to spare and Mokuba’s like “well at least you were still entertaining while we filmed you in front of a live audience being a total spaz for 15 minutes straight, so I’ll let you go.”

Grandpa and Joey start playing, Joey completely oblivious that this is just an older Muto, while Hawkins walks up awkwardly and is like “hey guys. I’m so sorry about this.”

(welcome to my font choices, for those new here, I have to make weird font color choices to make sure it’s legible for the colorblind and also for the non-colorblind. This one is not much contrast, so I may change it up in the future, but for now, this is Grandpa Muto’s new font. I apologize to every graphic designer reading this. Please don’t tell anyone who has ever hired me for graphic design about this blog.)

What’s funny about this exchange is that after they find out that Yugi’s Grandpa is Apdnarg (HOLY my brain cannot get around the spelling for that, and I will not change it in the caps. I cannot do a ‘pdn’ ever again), they don’t stand on his side of the field or anything. Hawkins is legit Solomon Muto’s only fan during this exchange and like...damn. Way not to back your Grandpa, Yugi.

Yugi immediately strides up to Mokuba to non-confrontation-ally inform him that he has stepped over a line and Mokuba is like “what are these things you say called ‘lines?’”

According to Mokuba, Solomon Muto begged him to be in the competition so he could relive his glory days (glory days making no sense here, because the game has only been released for the past 15 years, so glory days is like...the before times that can only be referring to disgraced archeologists and Pegasus ((who is, in his own way...a disgraced archeologist, too))) and Mokuba was like

“You trained Yugi Muto, right? Hey that’s good enough for me. This drama is gold. People will eat it up. Hell yes. Don’t be afraid to abduct him a little bit. Maybe trap a couple people in a digital hellscape for a little while? Now we go by Pegasus house rules here, so fire as many lasers as you want, but just make sure not to hit anyone in the face. Oh man, we are going to be swimming in cash. Love it, Muto Sr, love it.”

But I dunno, I feel like Grandpa won’t make it past next episode. It is Joey. We kinda need him to make it past Ep 4 of the arc. If Grandpa Muto becomes the new Joey Wheeler, that will be a weird transition for this show to make.

But that’s all for today, as always, here is the link to read these in chrono order becuase there’s SO MANY that you don’t need to read backwards--don’t do it--just use the chrono tag (and I don’t know if you can add compound tags, but I did separate the Season from the Episode, so if you write S4, it should only pop up stuff from S4. I didn't’ do that to seasons 1-3 though because I just...didn’t.)

https://steve0discusses.tumblr.com/tagged/yugioh/chrono

And because I brought it up: here it is, the best BTS Mashup that I found on my deep dive. Like legit--this one isn’t a mess:

Most of other ones are horrible in a fascinating way. Like I’m not even a BTS fan, I think I sort of age out of that metric, I’m just bored and quarantined. And lets be real, we all appreciate a good bop when we hear it.

[rhosyn-du]

Never make a mess when a total catastrophe will do - Chapter Two

Pairings: Jimon, past Clace, background Clizzy, a bunch of other minor background pairings Rating: Explicit Art: @cor321​ Beta: @all-thestories-aretrue​ Tags:  Alternate Universe - College/University, fake dating, oh my god they were roommates, friends with benefits, idiots to lovers, pining, miscommunication, holidays, drinking games, mistletoe, symbolically significant Oreos, domestic fluff, brief mention of past character death, Jace’s self-worth issues deserve their own tag Summary: What do you do when you find out your sister is not only dating your ex and love-of-your-high-school-life but is also bringing her home for Christmas? Bring your annoying, hot, annoyingly-hot roommate as your fake boyfriend to show them you're totally fine with it, obviously! There's no possible way this could backfire. Link: AO3 , Tumblr Master Post

Chapter Two

They didn’t talk more about it later. Jace barely saw Simon at all over the following couple weeks, in fact. It’s not that he was intentionally avoiding Simon, but they both had final exams to study for, and Simon was wrapped up in guitar ensemble rehearsals for the winter concert on top of that. If Jace had spent a little more of his study time in the library than was strictly necessary and that just happened to prevent any further discussions of dispays of physical affection and practice dates, that was entirely beside the point.

What Jace hadn’t counted on was how unprepared he’d feel pulling up outside the Queen Anne style townhouse he’d called home for most of his childhood. He suddenly wished he’d let Simon talk him into driving together and using the drive as a last minute planning session, even if it meant they’d need to coordinate their trip back to Boston. As much as he’d been avoiding talking about their plan, it really only occurred to Jace on the drive how much he wished they actually had, you know, a plan.

“Wow,” Simon said, hopping out of the hand-painted van he’d parked right behind Jace’s car. “Is that an actual turret?”

“Yup, gotta love those late 19th century architectural fads,” Jace answered as he pulled his suitcase out of the trunk. “The house belonged to Maryse’s grandparents, and I’ve never been able to tell how much she actually likes the style and how much is just childhood nostalgia, but she hasn’t even changed much of the interior except for renovations and repairs.”

“I have a hard time imagining growing up in a place like this,” Simon said as he joined Jace with his own suitcase in hand. “And it’s not like my mom’s house is tiny or anything, but this is just...” He waved a hand vaguely at the house. “A lot.”

He didn’t ask why Jace was sharing a tiny apartment furnished entirely secondhand if his family lived in a house like this, and Jace didn’t offer an explanation.

“You don’t need to be nervous,” Jace said, even though there was plenty to be nervous about. “I promise the house doesn’t bite.”

“Yeah, less worried about the house than the people in it,” Simon told him.

“I thought you were, like, the parent whisperer,” Jace teased. “Isn’t that why you offered to come with me? Because you make a great boyfriend? Trust me, as long as Alec and Izzy think you make me happy, they’ll love you, and you know more about comics than anyone I’ve ever met, so Max will love you regardless.”

“Okay,” Simon said, releasing a heavy breath. “Okay, thanks. You’re right, I just got a little intimidated by the house, but this is all going to be fine.”

“Maryse is probably going to hate you, though,” Jace continued, keeping his face carefully deadpan. “She hates everyone we bring home. It’s like a rite of passage. But you’re great with parents, so I’m sure you’ll at least avoid intentional food poisoning.”

Simon stared at him in horror, and Jace couldn’t keep a hit of a smile from breaking through.

“I hate you,” Simon told him.

“If it makes you feel any better,” Jace said, “I’m pretty sure the food poisoning wasn’t actually intentional.”

“Wait, there was actual food poisoning?”

“Come on,” Jace said, heading toward the door. “I want to get inside before we freeze to death.”

“You are such a dick sometimes,” Simon muttered, catching up to him.

Then, he slipped his free hand into Jace’s like it was a totally normal thing to do, and Jace had to catch himself from tripping over the steps.

“Careful,” Simon said, giving his hand a gentle squeeze. “I’m not going to make a very good impression on your family if you fall and break your neck before we even get inside.”

And there was just nothing to say to that, to how uncomfortable it wasn’t to have Simon’s hand in his like this, to the way it made him want. So Jace simply rolled his eyes and pushed open the front door, letting the scent of home wrap around him like a warm blanket.

“Okay,” Simon said quietly as he surveyed the entryway, complete with antique chandelier. “Feeling a little intimidated again.” And it was so easy for Jace to just give his hand a reassuring squeeze.

“Hey, you made it,” a warm voice greeted them. “With as bad as traffic has been, we thought you’d be another hour at least.”

“Hey, man,” Jace said, dropping Simon’s hand so he could pull his brother into a hug. “People must be staying home for the holidays this year, because we barely hit any traffic at all.” He glanced around. “Where is everyone?”

“Iz should be here any minute, Max is holed up in his room playing video games with his friends, and Magnus is helping Mom with some last-minute grocery shopping for dinner tomorrow.” Alec held out a hand to Simon. “I’m Alec, since Jace apparently can’t be bothered to make introductions like a civilized person.”

“It’s okay,” Simon said, giving his hand a quick shake, “I gave up on the idea of Jace being civilized the first time I saw him eat pizza that had been sitting out on the counter for three days.”

“That was your pizza,” Jace pointed out.

“Yeah,” Simon said, “which I was going to throw away because I forgot about it for three days.”

“On the subject of uncivilized,” Jace said, turning back to Alec, who was looking just a little too pleased, “you really sent Magnus shopping with Maryse? Buddy, if you decided you don’t want to marry the guy, just break it off with him. You don’t have to throw him to the wolves like that.”

Alec’s tiny smile became a little less tiny and a whole lot softer. “Magnus and Mom have actually been getting along lately. She wanted his opinion on wine pairings, so they went to the store and left me here so I can pull the bread out of the oven when it’s done. It’s very weird, but also nice.”

“That does sound very weird,” Jace told him, “but I’m glad things are working out and Maryse has found some level of chill somewhere.”

“Hopefully that means I won’t get poisoned,” Simon said.

Alec snorted. “If you want to avoid it, you should probably avoid mentioning you know about that. Or any other embarrassing family stories Jace might have shared with you.”

“And don’t eat anything Izzy hands you,” Jace added. “Anything she cooks probably won’t kill you, but the taste will make you wish you were dead.”

“So, I should just fast while I’m here,” Simon said. “Good to know.”

Jace led Simon upstairs to drop off their bags while Alec checked on the bread.

“Just toss your bag anywhere,” Jace said, opening the door to his old room. “We can argue over who gets which side of the dresser later.”

“Sure,” Simon said cheerfully, “as long as we can be civil deciding who gets which side of the bed.” He stopped just inside the doorway. “Wow, okay. The apparently very small bed.”

And this really was something that should have occurred to him, Jace realized. It wasn’t that he hadn’t considered that he’d be sharing a bed with Simon. They’d even talked about it, briefly, and agreed it was no big deal. But Jace hadn’t considered exactly how much smaller his childhood bed was than the generous queen he slept in back home. It was technically large enough to fit two grown men, but only technically.

“Don’t worry,” Jace said, falling back on his trademark bravado, “I won’t get mad if you cuddle me in your sleep. I know you can’t help it if your subconscious recognizes that I’m irresistible.”

“I’m more worried about your freakishly sharp elbows,” Simon muttered.

“As long as you don’t snore or steal the covers, you won’t have to worry about my elbows,” Jace told him. He was planning to keep his elbows, and the rest of him, as far away from Simon as possible. Which, given the size of the bed, was maybe three inches.

“Dude, I do not snore,” Simon protested. “You know that; we live together.”

“You absolutely snore after your fourth drink.”

“I wasn’t planning to get drunk with your family,” Simon said, tossing his bag onto the bed.

“You say that now,” Jace said, leaving his own bag next to the door. “But wait until you get the full Lightwood Christmas experience before deciding you want to spend the whole thing sober.”

“If your family drives me to drink, you don’t get to blame me for snoring,” Simon countered. Which was probably fair, but Jace was saved from having to admit that by the sound of voices coming from downstairs.

“That’d be Izzy,” Jace said, “and we’d better get down there before she accuses me of trying to hide you from her.”

“Jace,” called a singsong voice, right on cue, “quit making out with your mystery hottie and get down here so we can actually meet him.”

“You should be careful making demands like that,” Jace called back. “What if I’m not wearing any pants?”

“We’ve all seen it. Get your ass down here “

“I like your sister already,” Simon told him.

“You say that now, but wait until she decides you count as family. She won’t be any better with you.” He took Simon’s hand. Because it helped sell their relationship. Because he could. Simon laced their fingers together, and Jace tried not to feel any way about that at all as he led Simon back down the stairs.

They only made it a couple steps before Simon came to a complete stop, almost causing Jace to trip the rest of the way down the staircase. He heard Simon mutter a soft ‘oh crap’ at the same time a bright, redheaded whirlwind came rushing up the stairs at them.

“Oh my god, Simon?” Clary grabbed Simon into a giant bearhug, effectively tearing his hand out of Jace’s. “You’re Jace’s mystery boyfriend? How did I not know about this? You didn’t even tell me you were dating anyone, you jerk! What happened to best friend gossip privileges?”

Clary pulled back from the hug, and now that Jace could actually see her face, he could see the hint of concern she was trying to hide under her wide smile.

“Clary. Hi,” Simon said, eyes wide. “I was going to tell you, I swear. It’s just, this is kind of new and so...” He trailed off, looking panicked. His eyes caught Jace’s. “But, uh, yeah. This is Jace. My boyfriend. Jace, this is my best friend, Clary Fray.”

“Yeah,” Jace said, looking between the two of them and feeling more than a little out of his depth. He’d planned for things to be weird, but not this weird. “We’ve met.” He flashed Clary a smile. “Fray, huh?”

She nodded. “I couldn’t keep his name. Not after...after everything. Fray is the name Mom used before she married Luke. It’s the name I remember her having when I was little, so.” She shrugged. “I filed the paperwork to have it legally changed the day I turned eighteen.”

“It suits you,” Jace told her, and let himself be pulled into a tight hug that he suspected was as much because she needed one as that she was glad to see him. Clary had never told him much about the biological father she barely knew, but she’d told him enough to know that Clary held him responsible for her mother’s death, even if the courts had cleared him of any wrongdoing.

“Thanks,” Clary whispered, before surreptitiously drying her eyes on his shoulder and pulling back to flash a smile that was less forced than Jace expected. “So, tell me how this happened without me hearing about it.” She bumped Jace with her shoulder. “And if it’s so new, what possessed you to subject Simon to your family holidays?”

“Hey,” Izzy said, walking up behind Clary and wrapping her arms around her girlfriend’s waist. Jace had to admit, they looked...well, right together. “That’s my family, too, you know.”

“Oh, I know,” Clary said, offering a soft grin over her shoulder. “And the fact that I’m here should tell you exactly how much I love you.”

“Fair,” Izzy said, then looked at Simon. “So, how’d my brother convince you to join this circus?”

“We made a trade,” Simon said, straight-faced. “I put up with his family for Christmas and he puts up with mine for my cousin Rachel’s wedding.” He leaned in and told Izzy in a stage whisper, “Also, I’m weak for his smile, but don’t tell him I said that, because he will abuse it.”

“You say that like I don’t already abuse it,” Jace said, sliding his arm around Simon’s waist in a mirror of Izzy and Clary’s pose. “And to answer your earlier question, us being officially together is new, but we’ve been sort of on the verge of dating for ages. Practically since we started sharing an apartment last year.”

Clary let out a peal of delighted laughter. “Oh, you’re the roommate. It makes sense now.” Before Jace could ask what made sense, she was pulling the both of them into a tight hug. “I’m really happy for both of you.”

“If I’d known you were going to be this excited, I definitely would have mentioned it sooner,” Simon said, pulling back from the hug.

Jace tried to catch his eye, wondering what on earth was going on. He knew both Clary and Simon well enough to know he was missing something, but he had no idea what it was. Simon ignored him, and that just made Jace more suspicious.

“Come on,” Izzy said. “You can have your hug fest later. Right now, I want to help Alec get things set up in the kitchen and maybe surprise Mom by getting dinner started before she gets back.”

Jace and Clary exchanged a panicked look, and Jace frantically searched his mind for excuses to keep Izzy busy. He didn’t actually want a repeat of the food poisoning episode, after all.

“Actually,” Simon said, turning a bright smile on Izzy. “I was kind of hoping you’d be willing to show me your Lego Star Wars collection before we get too wrapped up in family stuff. Jace mentioned you have the deluxe Imperial Star Destroyer set from the early 2000’s, and I’ve never actually seen one in person.”

“Oh,” Izzy said, looking torn. “I’m not sure—”

“We can help Alec in the kitchen,” Clary said quickly. “You two go do your nerd thing. I knew this was inevitable when I finally introduced you two anyway. And this way I get the chance to harass my bestie’s new boyfriend without him in the way trying to keep me from learning the embarrassing details.”

“You know, on second thought—” Simon began, looking slightly panicked.

“Come on,” Izzy interrupted, smiling brightly and grabbing his hand.

Simon flashed Clary a betrayed look, then looked to Jace for support. Jace simply smiled at him.

“Don’t worry, love muffin,” he said mildly. “I’d never intentionally embarrass you.”

“I want you to know that I hate both of you,” Simon said before allowing Izzy to drag him back up the stairs.

“My collection is all still in my old room,” Izzy said. “Clary and I have been looking for an apartment big enough I can actually move the rest of my stuff out of here, but so far we haven’t found anything in our price range.”

Jace turned back to Clary. “Exactly what kind of embarrassing stories were you hoping for? Because I have many.”

Clary shook her head. “I’m pretty sure I’ve got more embarrassing Simon stories than you do. I’ve got almost two decades worth. But I was actually hoping to talk to you alone anyway, and this seems like the best chance we’re going to get.”

Jace followed her down the stairs and into the study. “Sounds serious. You planning to give me a shovel talk?”

Clary laughed, shaking her head. “No, I know you, remember? I’m not worried about you hurting Simon. Well,” she amended, “not any more than I am about him hurting you.” She met his eyes with a soft smile. “You might be the only person I know with a heart as big as Simon’s, as much as you try to hide it.”

Jace looked away. It had been two years since the last time he’d seen her, and she could still see right to the heart of him. He didn’t want to know what she’d see if she kept looking. “Clary—”

“Don’t worry, your secret is safe with me,” she teased. “But I didn’t actually bring you out here to talk about Simon. I wanted to apologize.”

Jace frowned, looking back at her. “You’ve got nothing to apologize for.” He was more than a little grateful not to have Clary grilling him about his entirely fabricated relationship, but he wasn’t sure where this conversation was going.

“No, I do,” she insisted. “I promised to keep in touch when you moved away, and I didn’t.”

“It’s not a big deal,” Jace said, even if maybe it had been at first. Those first few months at school had been hard. Jace always thought he was used to being alone, especially after his mother’s suicide, but he found out just how much he’d come to rely on his new family when he didn’t see them every day. They’d kept in touch, of course, but with Izzy immersed in her studies and Alec all wrapped up in his new relationship with Magnus, it wasn’t anything like what it had been when they were all under one roof.

For a while, he and Clary had been in touch nearly every day, sometimes texting multiple times a day. Jace told her about his classes and how much he liked Boston, and Clary told him all about trying to narrow down which art schools she wanted to apply to. It was almost the same sort of easy friendship they’d had before he left, after they agreed they were better off as friends.

But after a couple months, Clary’s messages came less and less often, and eventually stopped altogether. Jace tried not to let it bother him, but he started drinking a bit too much and going to a few too many parties. Which was how he’d met Maia, his attempts at flirting somehow leading to him getting his ass handed to him at beer pong, and soon he found himself with an entire group of new friends. Although Maia insisted for almost a year that she and Jace were merely antagonistic acquaintances.

Clary gave him a look that told him she knew exactly how full of it he was. “It was a shitty thing to do, and I was a shitty friend,” she told him. “Especially because I did it on purpose. Izzy and I started getting close and I started to have feelings for her, and I didn’t know what to say to you about it. I didn’t know how to even talk to you about what was going on in my life without mentioning that she was becoming such a big part of it.”

“You didn’t actually have to hide it from me, you know,” Jace said. “I was surprised when Izzy first told me, but I’m mostly just glad you’re both happy. And seeing you together, I know you both are.”

“Thanks,” Clary said. “I didn’t want to hurt you or make things weird. For a while, I thought I could just ignore what I was feeling, but Iz is just... She’s not someone you can ignore, you know?”

“Oh, I know exactly how hard my sister is to ignore, believe me.” Jace stopped, considered, then admitted something he had never said—would never say—to another person. But this was Clary, and he knew she would never repeat it. And even if she did, he could always play it off as part of the act. “She and Simon have that in common. You know, I actually thought I hated him at first? He’s so enthusiastic about everything, and so sincere, and just.” He shrugged. “Not the kind of person I thought would ever do it for me.”

“But he won you over with his boyish charm?” Clary guessed.

“Mm,” Jace agreed. And the way he loved without reserve. Not just his family and friends, but his music, his favorite films, even the crappy nachos from the 7-11 down the block from their apartment. Simon loved every part of life, and being around him, Jace could almost imagine what that felt like. “Well, that and his abs.”

“Can’t forget those,” Clary laughed.

“Not with how often he eats breakfast shirtless,” Jace agreed. “Come on. If we aren’t in the kitchen by the time Izzy gets back downstairs, you know she’ll try to help Alec herself, and I was kind of hoping for dinner to be edible.”

~~~

Dinner was surprisingly painless. Maryse was more relaxed and happy than Jace had ever seen her, and he couldn’t help wondering how much of that was related to the very unsubtle smiles she kept exchanging with Clary’s stepfather. Even Max, who was deep in throes of preteen scorn, grudgingly admitted that Simon being in a band was “pretty cool” and joined in on some of Simon, Clary, and Izzy’s excited nerd talk that went entirely over Jace’s head.

After dinner, they retired to the living room for eggnog and carols. Jace limited himself to a single cup of Magnus’s infamous eggnog, knowing better than to let himself get drunk when he was putting on a show for his family. Or sharing his tiny bed with Simon.

As usual, Jace let himself get pushed over the piano to play. He felt something in him settle as soon as he rested his fingers on the keys of Maryse’s baby grand, the feel different and so much more familiar than the ancient keyboard he had back in Boston or the well-used uprights in the practice rooms at school.

When Jace had first come to live with the Lightwoods, he’d been afraid to touch the piano. His mother had put him in lessons as soon as he was old enough, but she hated to listen to him play and often chastised him for not being a better player, saying he should be better at it with how talented his father was. Now, he understood that it was just another manifestation of the combined grief and mental illness that led to Celine’s death, but at the time he’d hated how awful he was at playing, no matter how much he enjoyed doing it.

But Maryse knew he played and encouraged him to use her piano. She told him that it had been her father’s, and though she’d taken lessons herself as a child, she’d never really loved it the way he had. She said that the instrument deserved to be loved, and as long as Jace loved playing it, she didn’t care how good he was or wasn’t.

It was the first time he’d really felt like this could be his home.

“Okay,” Jace said after the third version of O Tannenbaum with ridiculous altered lyrics—this one courtesy of Simon rather than Max or Clary, about an ill-fated toad who chose the wrong moment to cross the street, “I think my fingers are done for the night.”

“Oh, come on,” Clary said. “Simon and I have at least a dozen more of these we came up with when we were kids.”

“When we were little, I only knew the lyrics to the Christmas songs they played on the radio, so Fray made up silly lyrics to the other ones and told me they were real,” Simon explained. “And it made her so happy that I went along with it even for the couple I did know.”

“There will be plenty of time for more singing tomorrow,” Maryse said. “But if I know this one,” she continued, smiling at Max, “we’re all going to be dragged out of bed at the crack of dawn for presents.”

“Mom,” Max whined, “I’m not a kid anymore. I know the presents will still be there whenever I get up.”

“I seem to remember someone who looked an awful lot like you waking us up before sunrise last year,” Magnus said with exaggerated confusion. “Perhaps you have a twin I haven’t met?”

Max fixed him with a withering look. “Last year, I was eleven. This year I’m twelve,” he said, as though that explained it.

“Well, I’m glad to hear you’ve grown out of it,” Alec told him. “Because I intend to sleep in. And if you try to get me out of bed early, I’ll remind you of this conversation.”

“Oh, no need for that, darling,” Magnus said cheerfully. “I’ll just barricade the door before we go to sleep so he can’t get to us.”

“Brilliant,” Alec said, giving Magnus a frankly sappy smile. “I knew there was a reason I loved you.”

“And on that note,” Jace said, “I think I’m going to head to bed before I die of sweetness overdose.”

“Oh, please,” Magnus said, giving him an unimpressed look. “We all saw you and Simon making eyes at each other over those cookies you were frosting earlier.”

“It’s true,” Izzy said before Jace could protest. “You don’t get to tease Alec about being a sap anymore, not now that we’ve all actually seen you with someone you love.”

Jace froze, his mouth half open, then quickly snapped it shut. It made sense that Izzy would assume. He’d brought Simon home for Christmas, after all. That was the story they were selling even if they hadn’t actually discussed it, even if it wasn’t something Jace had said or even implied. And whatever he did feel for Simon, it certainly wasn’t love. It was, at best, a friendly crush. A very intense friendly crush.

Izzy seemed to realize her mistake, glancing between him and Simon with a look of dawning panic.

“No, you’re misunderstanding how this works,” Simon said easily, because of course Izzy’s words hadn’t sent him into a panic the way they had Jace. “Jace gets to tease Alec, and you, and you both get to tease him back.”

“Yep,” Clary agreed. “Those are the rules, because that means I still get to tease Simon.”

“Please,” Izzy said. “Clary and I are too sophisticated to be sappy.”

“I’m pretty sure I heard you call Clary ‘cuddle bug’ earlier,” Alec said.

“And I definitely saw you laugh at that terrible joke she told at dinner,” Jace added.

“She ate one of the cookies you made,” Max accused.

“Yeah, sorry, cutie,” Clary said. “We’re really pretty sappy.”

“Fine,” Izzy huffed. “But I just think you’re all jealous because I’ve got the cutest girlfriend.”

“Yes, Izzy,” Alec said drily. “You’ve uncovered my secret. I’m extremely jealous of your girlfriend.”

“I knew it,” Izzy said smugly, as though Alec had been perfectly sincere.

“Definitely in danger of dying of sweetness overdose,” Jace said.

That set off another round of teasing, this time with Izzy throwing in not so subtle attempts to drag Maryse and Luke into it. Jace wasn’t sure why Izzy was so determined to make the two admit there was something between them. It was obvious there was just from the way they acted around each other. Maryse would tell them when she was ready, just like she had when she and Robert filed for divorce.

It was almost another hour before Jace finally made his way up the stairs toward his room. He was surprised when Simon rose to follow him, but didn’t say anything until they were back in his room.

“I’m surprised you didn’t stay to nerd out with Clary and Iz some more.”

“I get to talk to Clary all the time,” he said with a shrug. “Besides, it’ll be easier to keep up the whole fake boyfriend thing if I don’t let her get me alone. She’d definitely figure out something’s up if I let her start grilling me about our relationship. Also, you don’t get to call me a nerd when you know just as much about Star Wars as I do.”

“It’s impossible to grow up with Izzy and not know way too much about Star Wars,” Jace said, pulling off his shirt and tossing it over a chair. “Are you still sure about doing this? Neither of us counted on Clary, and I’ll understand if you want to back out.”

“Huh?” Simon said, sounding distracted. Jace turned to look at him and thought he detected the faintest flush on Simon’s cheeks when he met his eyes. “I mean, yeah, no, I’m not backing out.” He gave an uncomfortable shrug as he pulled a set of pajamas out of his suitcase. “The last thing I want is to have to explain this whole thing to Clary.”

“Good point,” Jace agreed, turning around to put on his own pajama bottoms. It was tempting to watch Simon change, but it was also a very bad idea. “I don’t want to think about what she’d have to say to both of us if she knew.”

There was a beat of silence before Simon asked, “So, do you, um, have a preferred side of the bed?”

Jace turned to look at him, only a little disappointed to find Simon fully dressed in his pajamas. As usual when someone asked a question he didn’t want to think about, Jace flashed a smirk. “In a bed this small, I usually just take up the whole thing.”

“Well, unless you want me on top of you, you should pick a side,” Simon said, unimpressed. “Because I’m not sleeping on the floor.”

“I’ll take the left,” Jace said quickly, trying and mostly failing to avoid thinking about exactly how much he did want Simon on top of him. “I’m just gonna hit the bathroom real quick.”

Which was how Jace found himself locked in the tiny guest bathroom, lip caught between his teeth as he frantically tugged at his cock. He hadn’t planned on jerking off, but he couldn’t get Simon’s words out of his head, and he sure as hell wasn’t getting into bed with Simon half-hard, which was really the only other option.

He could picture it far too easily. Simon pressing him into that ridiculously tiny bed, hands gentle but firm, mouth just a little bit desperate.

He came to the thought of rutting up against those ridiculous abs.

By the time Jace cleaned himself up and returned to his room, Simon was nestled under the covers on the right side of the bed. Seeing him like that made something in Jace’s chest clench, and he flipped the light off just so he wouldn’t have to look anymore.

“‘Night,” Simon said as Jace slid into bed, taking care to stay entirely on his side.

“Don’t even think about snoring,” Jace answered.

He lay in the dark for a long time, staring into the darkness, listening to the sounds of the city that didn’t quite drown out the soft breathing of the man beside him. He tried not to think about how easy and relaxed the night had been, how perfect it would have been if only half of it weren’t a lie.

[jackandthesoulmates]

Innocence Lost

Author: jackandthesoulmates / tintentrinkerin

Title: Innocence Lost

Created for @winklinebingo

Squares filled: Teen Rebellion, Dating Apps, Virginity

Pairing: Winkline [SamJack], [dysfunctional] Destiel mention

Warnings: Attempted Non-Con

Additional tags: Identity Crisis, Sexuality Crisis, Roofies Mention, Canon Divergency, Original Characters, pan/demi Sam Winchester, Swearing

Word count: 15,691

COMPLETED [READ ON AO3]

Inspired by “Gods and Monsters” (Lana Del Rey)

I Was An Angel

She’s a pretty girl. She really is. 

Long curly, glossy hair and she always smells like flowers. Or cherries. Sometimes bubblegum. Jack is very sensitive to sweet smells and tastes and this girl is just a bouquet of the sugary and most flowery things. He likes smelling her and he likes her voice, it always sounds like she’s singing or telling a fairytale. She even has a princess name: Aurora. 

Her eyes remind him of Castiel, intense blue with yellow speckles. Jack has read some love poems before, by Shakespeare and Wilde and Rilke and he thought of this girl when he read them. She is love poem perfect.

But, look. Thing is, yes she’s cute, she’s stunning, she’s like a spring breeze and a lot of boys would probably sacrifice a hand to be with her. And Jack is her boyfriend. For about two weeks now. 

Jack has no idea how to do this whole relationship thing. He met her when he was about to go buy some bread and pie. He had gone out with his pajama shorts still on and he didn’t even notice. Aurora was behind him in line and when they both were done buying their groceries, she stopped him and whispered in his ear, “You’re still wearing your pajamas!”

The whole which-clothes-when issue was still new to him, that’s why he messed up. And he apologized to her, but she only laughed. And her laughter made him feel better. She made him feel better all around. 

Jack didn’t know much of the world. Of course, he already knew a lot. He knew about hunting and friendships, about family and good and evil. He had experienced a lot already.

In theory, he knew about love. He asked Dean about love and sex. The answers haven’t been all too satisfying and there was no intrinsic feeling, no urge for Jack to go out there and find love. Or sex. He’s found Aurora now, that sweet girl, that perfect girl. She liked him a lot, he knew it. Two weeks are enough to fall in love, it seems. 

Jack isn’t in love. He knows it. Love feels different. Dean and Castiel both have described for him what love feels like. Their wording has been totally different but it was clear they mean the same thing. And they love each other, despite their differing descriptions. 

Why is he with her then?, he asks himself a lot. Because she is nice? She is pretty? She makes him smile? She laughs with him, not at him.

To her, Jack is just a quirky shy boy. He’s not the Spawn of Satan, or a Nephilim, or a Time Bomb. He’s not a tool. Not a weapon. Not an abomination.

He’s just that kid living with these three middle aged weirdos who live in a bunker outside of Lebanon. She never judges. 

What is love then?

Jack has an answer to that. He feels butterflies in his stomach, but it took him a while to understand it was a figure of speech. There were no actual butterflies in his stomach. But it was a tingling, a pull, heart pounding in his chest. Sweating. Shaking. Becoming super dumb all of a sudden, because Jack would confuse words, form abstruse sentences and just completely messes it up. He feels all that. He has dreams about this person and his underwear is wet the next morning. He had googled it and it seems to be a normal thing to happen to boys. But he feels embarrassed every time and hates it when someone else does the laundry. He doesn’t want other people to touch his dirty laundry. He also daydreams about kisses, and hugs, and heavy breathing, of noises that sound like Jack’s in pain, but he clearly isn’t.

Sometimes he would stare at the wall for solid minutes before he snaps out of daydreaming or someone catches his attention. Either by door slamming, “Kid, you there?” or - what Dean likes to do - throwing chocolate bars at him. Jack has angel reflexes, nothing ever hits him. Dean knows it. 

Jack also has been exposed to “adult magazines” already. Dean seems to hide his magazines all over the bunker and it was just a matter of time til Jack found one and took a close, very close look. He was confused about the nudity first, he was told nudity is for showers, bedrooms and birth apparently. He’s been born naked and Sam told him, babies were born naked. And people got naked when they ‘made love’ but that was something Sam didn’t talk about. Jack had asked, but Sam denied telling him how one ‘makes’ love.

The nudity wasn’t the only thing Jack was astounded about. What these people did looked very, very peculiar. And Jack put the magazine back, when his body from belly button down felt tingly, hot and somehow itchy. Even his ‘down there’ started growing. It got hard. It confused him for a while but when his crotch grew soft, he felt relieved and never looked at something like this again.

Later he found out there was a way to make it go soft ‘down there’ again. He just needs to touch himself and what happens then is bombastic. And messy.

This feeling, love. Was he ‘making’ it? But according to Sam two people were needed to make love together. Feeling it all by his own couldn’t be the same then. Jack was confused. 

To add to his confusion, when he was at a case with Dean, Dean had talked about courting and ‘the sex’ and Dean has made fun of him when he came home two weeks ago and announced he had a girlfried. 

“Which base? First? Second?”

Sam gave Dean a scowl and a slight punch against the chest.

“Don’t listen to him, Jack. We’re happy for you.”

When he was in his room at night, he barely slept. As a half angel he didn’t need as much sleep as a human. And he knew that Castiel never sleeps. Sometimes they met in the library to talk and play chess or Go. On some other nights when Castiel wasn’t in the bunker or with Dean, Jack would just read whatever came in handy. They had a large library, but Jack was a fast reader and soon he had to download books to his eReader that Sam gave him for his first birthday. But also, this tiny piece of electronics didn’t have enough capacity to download all the books Jack would read in a week, that’s why he asked Sam for a new microSD card for his smartphone. Sam didn’t say no to Jack very often. Jack read Victor Hugo and Jean-Paul Sartre, also Marcel Proust and he had a great time reading Finnegans Wake and Ulysses. He wished James Joyce was still alive, because Jack wanted to tell him what a great and funny piece of literature he had written.

He asked Sam to summon James Joyce. 

Sam thought he was messing with him, then said ‘no’.

Jack doesn’t like it when people tell him ‘no’ and that makes it even harder now for him to say no to Aurora. 

It’s their second week and she’s so in love with him. Well, that's what she tells Jack. And he likes her pink lips, they look like flower petals and he wonders how they feel. 

Exactly what Aurora wants him to do, outside the waffle’s place. She wants to kiss him and she looks pretty, her closed eyes, a tiny raindrop caught in her long eyelashes and she smells of vanilla and there’s still powdered sugar on her chin. 

Jack backs away. Her pouty lips look nice and he wants to feel them. With his finger.

When she realizes Jack isn’t leaning in to kiss her, she opens her eyes. She looks hurt.

“Did I do something wrong?”, she asks. 

Jack feels incredibly bad about the situation and he doesn’t even know what to say. He can't explain why shies away from a kiss. 

He hasn’t been kissed ever before. And he thinks of someone else when he closes his eyes at night, hand under the cover, rubbing himself through the fabric of his pajamas.

“I’m sorry, I…I have never kissed someone before, I’m…I’m nervous.”

That isn't a lie, he tells himself. It’s not a lie. Lying is bad.

“Oh”, she mouths. A perfect O shape with her lips. 

“Are you mad at me, Aurora?”, he asks, feeling very bad and guilty. 

Jack hates disappointing people and he avoids it at every cost. Usually. But he can’t kiss her, it wouldn’t feel good. He knows, deep down it won’t feel good at all. It won’t be catastrophic, but kissing someone he doesn't like that way is wrong. Sam told him he shouldn’t be physical with people he doesn’t know well. Sam told him he should be physical with someone he really really likes and that more than just as a friend. 

Aurora feels like someone more than a friend, but there’s no nocturnal pining for her. That’s for someone else. That’s why he has to go home now, before he makes it even worse with Aurora.

“No, Jack, it’s okay, I didn’t know…I thought…I mean you said you’re 21, I kinda just thought you already have…you know, kissed someone. Or even more.”

Jack raises an eyebrow. 

“Even more?”

Aurora hides in her pastel pink scarf. 

“Yes, sex, you know?”

With a sigh, Jack looks away and he can feel his face start burning. He has no idea how to have sex, he doesn’t even know exactly what it should be. It was a part of relationships, like Dean and Castiel’s but…all Jack can think about in regards of ‘making love’ and kissing and sex was…Sam.

“I’m not experienced”, he replies, slightly trembling. “I never did it.”

-

Later in the bunker, Jack is sleepless. He would like to sleep this time, because he feels exhausted and hurt. There’s something Aurora said. She said, if he kept people at distance he would never experience love and sex. Even a kiss was a problem already. This view on things was very weird to him. He doesn’t have a problem with kissing or finding out what love is. He just doesn’t want to kiss her. It feels wrong.

She didn’t text him since they departed on unknown terms.

And another thing creeps in his mind. Maybe the problem is that he doesn’t just not like Aurora, maybe he doesn’t like girls at all? And Sam is a man. Maybe he likes men, like Dean does? Dean often talked about women, he seems to like both. Men and women. And Castiel doesn’t even raise a brow when Dean talks about ‘casual sexual encounters’ how Castiel calls them. It’s still unknown territory for Jack. 

There are people who like girls, there are people who like men and people who like both…and what if their body doesn’t matter at all?

Jack doesn’t know where the difference should be, except that a man looks different from a woman. 

The whole sex thing is driving him up the walls. 

He gets up, puts his slippers on and goes to the library. Dean is there, a bottle of whisky in front of him. He doesn’t look deadly drunk, but drunk enough. Sometimes Jack is afraid of Dean when he had too much of this stuff. He can be very mean, aggressive and violent. 

Jack braces himself and joins him at the table. Dean looks up. His green eyes are glassy and his face is red. 

“Can’t sleep, kiddo?”, he asks, wrapping his gown tighter. 

Jack nods.

“No. I was naughty. And now I’m upset.”

Dean’s head jerks up, now Jack has his full attention. The smirk gives it away, Dean will make fun of him for sure.

“Naughty? As in, you finally did sweet lovin’ to her or?”

Jack shakes his eyes, frowning. 

“Now, she wanted to kiss me but I didn’t want to.”

He sighs, sinks back in the chair, looking at the ceiling. There’s silence, Dean just chugs down the rest of the whisky, but he has another already on hand and opens it.

“Need a sip?”

His first instinct is to say ‘no’, but then he agrees and takes a drink directly from the bottle. Whiskey tastes like paste. He hates alcohol and it doesn’t make him drunk. He could drink ten of these bottles and still wouldn't feel a little thing. He knew that Cas also could drink immense amounts and he never feels even dizzy. 

“How do I know if I’m gay?”, he asks and avoids eye contact.

Dean bursts out in laughter. It takes a while for him to calm down again. Jack feels very embarrassed. 

“I shouldn’t have asked”, he murmurs and attempts to get up again but Dean stops him.

“Ey sorry. I’ll give you some advice okay? You will know when a man or a woman drives you crazy. Just, I don’t know. Try it. Get Grindr or whatever, chat with some guys, meet up. And try it.”

Dean’s eyes are really teary now. That was maybe a little too much. 

“Are you okay, Dean?”

“Ya, ‘m fine. No worries.” 

Dean is not okay, but Jack has learned his lesson. Dean will always say it’s okay, there’s no problem, I’m fine. 

Sam is a lot different from him. He’s strong and calm, his hands are so big and his broad shoulders would be perfect to lean on. 

Dean is different. Never at peace, restless. Always on the run from whatever is going on in his head. 

“Is Sam…is Sam gay?”

Jack is shocked by his own words. Dean freezes. And then slowly, very slowly turns to Jack. There’s nothing friendly in his face, it’s a grimace.

“No, he’s not, Jack. Never was. Never will be.”

His heart feels like it’s sinking down to Jack’s groin. It hurts. He gets up.

“I should go to bed. Good night.”

“Sleep tight.”

Tonight Jack cries, hugging his moose plush toy.

*

“Grindr or whatever.”

“Chat with some guys, meet up. And try it.”

Dean’s statements from that night stick with the poor innocent boy. He rolls these thoughts in his head and they roll from one corner to the other, like marbles. He also dips his tongue in them, tastes them. Makes them slide from his teeth down to his throat. But he never swallows them. 

Sam is not gay.

“Never was. Never will be.”

Sam doesn't like men. He doesn’t like boys. And Jack is a boy. Does that mean he has to give up on what he feels? But, what if Jack isn't gay himself? He has no experience. Not with girls, not with boys. He only knows it feels wrong to kiss Aurora. She is one girl of billions. And Sam is just one man of billions.

Maybe, even when Sam is not interested in men, Jack is an exception. He is half angel!

Grindr. Or whatever.

What is Grindr?

Jack didn’t eat this morning, because he  heard Sam and Castiel fighting over something Jack didn’t want to be part of. It was enough to see Dean drink so much, but he wouldn’t participate in any of the tensions that his behaviour caused lately. Dean had told him, he would kill him. Well, maybe he won’t do that anymore now since Jack helped to save the world more than once. He said Jack isn’t family. Maybe he still thinks so. It hurts Jack, because he loves his three father figures and he looks up to Dean. He’s a strong hunter, a leader. He’s the muscle of this team. Sam is the brain. Castiel somehow is the heart. But what is Jack? Always willing to sacrifice himself to make Sam and Cas and Dean love him. 

These thoughts are dark enough and going out there and witnessing another fight wasn’t Jack’s favourite start of the day.

He rather hid in his room after showering. 

Dean has offered him some breadcrumbs like the ones Hansel and Gretel left to find their way back home from the forest. But he needs to go the other way. He doesn’t need to find his way out of the forest and away from the witch’s gingerbread house. Jack wants to find exactly that. 

Wrapped in his towel he sits down on his bed, takes his smartphone and opens a search engine tab. Aurora has texted him but he doesn’t want to reply right now. He feels bad about how he let her down and didn’t kiss her. 

He isn’t sure what he is supposed to search for, he just types grinder. Several online shops appear. Obviously it’s a name for a tool to crush herbs and marijuana. Did Dean mean that? He should grind some herbs and perform a ritual? Nah. Dean was drunk, he surely didn’t think that far.

Next step is to look it up in an online dictionary.

It says a lot of things about molars (pressing together with a rotating motion), grinding as a verb to pulverize material, and then something caught Jack’s eye.

to rotate the hips in an erotic manner

Now, that makes sense in a way, that makes Jack blush deeply. It’s a motion he sometimes imagines when he’s hot and aroused. When his body works up, his cheeks hot and his spine tingly. He imagines sitting on Sam’s lap, both kissing and sighing, and then Jack would...grind. 

Jack has to put the phone away for a second. Thinking of this clouds his judgement. 

After a minute of breathing in and out and trying to tone these thrilling images down Jack is ready to now search for: “Grinder gay men”

The search engine reports “No results for Grinder gay men found. Do you want to search for Grindr gay men instead?”

Jack is irritated about the missing “e”, that’s a typo, right? but he presses the tab ‘yes’.

What pops up now is an article from an online encyclopedia and describes Grindr as a mobile app for gay, bisexual and trans men to chat and meet other men of the same interests. 

The second article is a link to his smartphone’s app store, which Jack opens. 

Dean wanted him to find this app. To meet other men. Try it. Now it all makes sense! Jack is happy about this. Dean wouldn’t be so mean to him after all!

He downloads the app Grindr - Chats, Meeting and Dating for Gays. The app’s icon is black with an orange mask in the middle. Looks plain but also makes Jack curious.

To use the app Jack has to sign up. Since Castiel once has given him permission to sign up in a social network he just thinks it applies to this stuff too. 

There’s a lot of text about privacy, which he just accepts to go further. He signs up with his e-mail address and password. He struggles with his birthday. He tells people he’s 21 years old, which makes his birthday for official purposes May 18th somewhere in the nineties. He has to do some funny verification procedures, the last one is verifying his phone number. 

The app wants him to upload a picture of him, and because he doesn’t have any he just takes one. He doesn’t mind that he's naked except the tiny towel around his waist. The first step is easy. He’s Jack, 21 and looking for Chat, Dates, Meeting up and Friends. He wonders why there’s two options for meeting people. One sounds like it’s for impatient people and the other one is for people who are patient. Like Sam. Sam would be patient. 

He’s now transferred to the next page. And he now sees a lot of other people using the app it seems. A lot of very muscly men are there. They all like to show their body, but Jack doesn’t really like this. Their nudity even makes him feel icky. 

Some men have nicknames like “BigTrunkBear” or “LikeItRough” or “Creamlover”. Jack’s confusion is growing. 

There’s also a lot of men having no photo at all, but how should Jack know how they look? Also the photos of legs irritate him. 

The app notifies him he needs to complete his profile. There’s some multiple choice questions but also dropdown menus and input masks.

It’s easy for him to type a few sentences about himself. 

Jack is as blunt as it could be. 

“Hello, I’m Jack. I like nougat, my fathers and shadow show.”

Age and height are no problem, but he has to google what ethnicity is. His skin is pale, then he must be white. 

Every question after that is confusing to him. He doesn’t know what “position” (Top, Bottom, Vers) he is, is he a “Bear” or a “Twink”? What is all that?

The confusion grows and Jack closes the app for a moment. He thinks about googling all of it. But then his phone chimes and there’s a text message in the app from a man with the nickname “OralPlesaurer”. Which is funny to Jack, because it’s a typo. And no one’s name in real life is OralPleasurer or Creamlover.

Cream is cool, yeah, whipped on pie. But Jack’s not a lover in the sense of the word. Weird people there.

Jack opens the message, it’s a simple “Hi”.

Jack sends a "Hi" back.

What happens then can only be described as…unexpected.

Shinin’ Like A Fiery Beacon

Sam has no suspicions what’s happening in Jack’s mind, but he notices he’s shy around him. Maybe even a little uneasy. The last months have been rough and Sam knows Jack has gone through a lot. Mostly he tried to gain Dean’s trust again, make him and Dean forgive him. But Sam was never mad at him. He couldn’t. 

There is a lot in Jack that reminds Sam of himself and that makes it hard for him to look at the situation objectively. 

Jack was destined to be a weapon for his father, Lucifer. And Lucifer was a special kind of topic for Sam and it has granted him a very twisted satisfaction that Jack helped to kill him off permanently. Three times. Jack’s struggle with his heritage was something Sam totally understands and yes, of course he also understands why Dean is angry and hurt. 

But why does he treat Jack like that still? 

Why is he so determined to stick to his anger and his grief? It doesn't even seem like he is trying to get over it, to forgive Jack. 

There’s something else on Dean’s noggin’ and Sam knows it, even when Dean doesn’t talk about it. The empty whisky bottles, all the sex with nameless strangers and his risky behavior aren’t new to Sam or Cas. 

But that Cas puts up with Dean’s bullshit is astounding. He wouldn’t let that happen. And Sam fights a lot. With Cas. About Dean. With Dean. About Dean. And Cas. And how he treats Jack.

Lately Sam noticed a feeling deep inside of him, flourished for Jack. A gentle, fragile feeling and he didn’t dare to touch this topic. Not even when he was in his room alone at night, rolling around in his bed. It’s a special kind of affection mixed with a frustrating amount of attraction. Sam hates himself for feeling like this. It’s just not right. Jack is nothing like his father, yes, but that's also not the problem. He’s barely 4 years old by now, he came into the world in the body of a young man but little knowledge and childlike naivety. How could Sam take advantage of that? Jack clearly wants to gain his friendship and maybe a platonic kind of love. It’s wrong of Sam to wish for more than that. And that’s why he keeps it hidden and rather tumbles into new fights about Dean’s alcoholism.

It’s his turn to do the cooking today while Cas and Dean are on an investigation and he’s alone with Jack. Sam notices once more that Jack hides in his room a lot, he won’t come out unless Sam calls him to lunch or dinner. Mostly he skips breakfast. So far there’s nothing weird about it, maybe Jack needs some privacy. Sam thinks of his youth with Dean and Dad on the road and how he hated to never be alone. 

Taking ‘long showers’ was always suspicious and a lot of things he and Dean did were blurry to him now in his late thirties. When Sam fled to Stanford and finally had a room for himself, actual locks and actual keys for them, doors he could close...it was better than heaven. That’s when he finally could explore what it meant to be a teenager and deal with the rampaging hormones on his own. Also, he could finally be away from Dean’s hypersexual behavior. Maybe Dean thought it was cool to be like this in front of Sam, especially when they as brothers became a little too close and it was his way to dodge the bullet. 

In the light of his own memories Sam knows what is happening.

And he’s sure Jack’s kind of blossoming at the moment. 

With his super cute and lovely girlfriend, Aurora.

Sam hasn’t met her yet and he has no idea how to react. Of course, he’d be nice and polite and make her dinner and ask her all the nice and polite things for small talk and tell Jack how lucky he is but there’s something primal inside of Sam. Jealousy. He hates being jealous and he has no right to feel that way. One more reason to just let this blooming feeling die and not feed it with anything. 

Not with his weird daydreams or the thoughts at night that keep him bothered and not the moments he’s alone in the shower, rubbing one out. Afterwards he’s just more frustrated, instead of feeling any relief. 

Sam needs another cup of coffee, a strong one. Before Cas and Dean went out, there had been another argument. It was hurtful. Things were said and then taken back, Cas’ puppy eyes all over, Sam's yelling and Dean almost breaking shit. Like always. Maybe after this one they’d calm down, all of them. Dean and Cas were alone for a while, maybe doing some reconciliation. Sam would be happy for them if they could get over whatever was going on. 

In the meantime Sam is just happy with cooking, doing laundry, generally cleaning the bunker and reading. It may sound boring for some people but for him it’s heaven. They’ve had too much going on for fifteen years, some peace is pretty nice and just what he needs right now.

Jack’s an active reader too and he reads the good stuff. Sam educates him about most things he’s comfortable with and he knows he should’ve given the kid ‘The Talk’ already, but Dean kinda started it and Sam is a bit of a chicken regarding this topic. Sex isn’t his favorite thing to talk about. And so far, there seems no reason to rush it, even though Aurora is there. Dean told him about a week ago that Jack has refused to kiss her and if there wasn't anything else going on Sam was unaware of, that was the sexiest thing Jack had achieved so far. A kiss from a girl.

Sam burns his tongue on his coffee because he chugged it too quickly. With a curse he bangs the mug on the table and that’s when Jack walks in. Lately he abandoned his adorable pajamas and wears some of Dean’s and Sam’s old shirts and flannels he grabbed out of the sacks for the clothing drive. That looks wrong in all the right ways, but Sam can’t really say anything about it without letting his guard down. And he won’t let his guard down. Never. 

“Morning, Jack”, Sam utters, trying to cool his tongue with a sip of water. “I didn’t expect you to be up that early. Want some porridge?”

Jack looks up at him and there’s still a sleepy veil surrounding him. He seems to be just woken up. He is wearing one of Sam's old shirts, which is too big for him and the sight makes Sam gulp. A little.

“Yes, sounds good.” Jack sits down and yawns in his hand while Sam gets him some porridge and a cup of coffee with a lot of milk in it. 

Now Sam notices that Jack carries his smartphone with him, which is unusual. Jack mostly uses it for chatting with Aurora or doing some research but he never carries it around like some other teenagers do who are maybe a little too attached to it. It vibrates a couple of times before Jack takes it and mutes all notifications. He looks…guilty?

“What is it? Is Aurora chatty today?”

Jack looks up and puts a spoonful of porridge in his mouth, shaking his head. 

“No, it’s um…it’s nothing.”

Sam is suspicious. Does Jack talk to someone else? Would he need to give him a talk about keeping options open? He doesn’t want to approach the issue by himself, so he rather sits down and eats his breakfast too. Jack seems a bit nervous, always throwing stolen glances at his phone and the screen lights up every couple of minutes. Jack doesn’t reply to any of these messages, he just turns the phone screen down on the table and keeps eating. 

The day goes by, Sam just gets cosy in the library. Dean messaged him it’s a vampire nest and he and Cas will hunt them down tonight. Which is a good sign. Sam also told him to take some time off after it, maybe go to Vegas. Dean hasn’t replied yet. It’s a bit selfish but Sam likes the quiet peace in the bunker. They have thought of moving out a couple times but none of them could really think of somewhere else to live. They were hunters after all and so far they didn’t think about retiring. The bunker was still the core of their family. A home. Dean’s and Sam’s home after years on the road or couchsurfing at Bobby’s, the only home Jack knows. Sam even started to make his room look like an actual bedroom. It had been bare and clinical for years when he still couldn’t wrap his mind around the idea to settle down with Dean. He thought the bunker would maybe one day be taken away from them again. 

His phone chimes and Dean promises to be back in a couple of days. Couple of days. That could mean they’re back tomorrow or in a week. But he’s happy that Dean takes the chance anyway. 

Sam is totally sucked in by the book he’s reading and he jolts when Jack appears in the library, a hot chocolate in his small hand and a slight disturbed look on his face. 

“Sorry, you scared me a little bit”, Sam says and feels bad about it. 

Jack only smiles and takes a seat across the table.

“It’s okay. Sam, can I ask you some questions? I wanted to ask Dean, but he’s away and not replying to my texts…” 

“Of course. What’s the matter?”

Jack looks up to him, big blue eyes piercings through Sam’s skin. He hates when that happens, Jack has an unsettling effect on Sam. He’s not used to feel like this. 

He squirms in his chair now and then with a sigh, Jack takes the phone out of his pocket to place it in front of him. Okay, so there is something up with the phone. Sam was right about it. 

“How do I know if I’m gay?”

Jack doesn’t look at Sam, he stares at his phone. Sam can see his ears getting red and Jack just blushes so easily… and also very intense. His face is burning red, Sam would bet his ass on it. 

The question itself is nothing Sam would classify as weird. It’s obvious Jack’s going through a phase of finding himself. Contemplating his own sexuality is part of it. Thing is, it makes Sam slightly uncomfortable talking about it. It’s partly because Jack is so young, the other part is that he’s attracted to Jack. Sam didn’t feel attracted to anyone for years and he hates labels. He loves who he loves and he wants to sleep with people he has a strong connection to. And a life as a hunter doesn’t provide much space for a romance to unravel.

How is he supposed to talk about it when he has no idea where to start?

He isn’t a good measure after all.

“Oh, that is as simple as it is complicated”, Sam starts, folding his hands on the table. He takes deep breaths, before he starts to speak. 

“First of all, I can only speak for myself and I don’t know if I'm for much use. In regards of sex you really better ask Dean, but since he doesn’t seem to look at his phone at the moment, I will try.” 

He has already told Jack about making love instead of sex and Sam has thought about his choice of words and regretted some of it. It sounded way too much like purity culture and Jack shouldn’t think sex was bad. Sexual attraction isn’t bad at all.

It just doesn’t fit for Sam.

“Does your question have anything to do with how you feel about Aurora?”

Jack nods. Slowly, a little unsure.

“She wanted to kiss me but I didn’t want to. It didn’t feel right. And I wondered if it has something to do with- I mean- maybe I like boys and not girls?” 

His face is so red by now, Sam could swear he feels the heat radiating from the boy.

“There could be several reasons for it, it doesn’t mean you’re gay. Most people kiss and make love because they’re attracted to each other. Attraction is a very tricky feeling. It feels like butterflies in your stomach, heart pounding, you maybe even feel dizzy. That’s when most people say they’re in love. Do you feel that when you are with Aurora?”

Jack shakes his head.

“No.”

“Then maybe, you’re just not in love with her, and that's okay. You will fall in love with another girl in the future. Or you fall in love with a boy, which is also totally fine. Also you can feel attraction to people who don’t fit in the girl/boy categories. It’s all just about how you feel around them and if you want to kiss them. Or go further.” 

Sam rubs his hands. He really feels uncomfortable educating Jack about love and sex. Now would be a great moment for Dean to show up and take this conversation.

“You know, Dean likes both. Cas is an angel, I don’t think a concept of gender applies to him at all.”

This is when Jack looks up. 

“And what do you like?”

Sam now leans back in his chair, his heart aches a little and he feels heat creeping up his neck. He hates that question.

“Well, Jack…” he sighs heavily, “I don’t care much about gender too. I’m not gay, but I’m not straight either. And I’m also not bisexual, like Dean. It’s hard to say. When I like someone, I like them and I don’t see gender. Boy, girl, queer, it doesn’t matter.”

Now Jack takes a long, careful sip of his hot chocolate. His smartphone chimes again and Sam just has to ask.

“Do you think you’re gay, because you didn’t want to kiss Aurora or is there something else on your mind?”

He knows it’s not his business but he also takes it very seriously to be a good role model, be a father figure to Jack. When Jack needs help, Sam will provide it. Same goes for Cas and sometimes even Dean has his bright moments of fatherhood. 

It’s obvious Jack doesn’t want to answer right away, he looks like he is tasting words in his mouth, rolling them over his tongue, putting them in his cheeks for a moment, before he says something that surprises Sam. 

“There is something else. A man asked me out, but he asked me things I don’t understand.”

Sam stiffens. 

“A man? How old?”

Jack shrugs. 

“Couple years older than Dean maybe?”

Now Sam leans forward, skeptical and on alert. 

“What do you mean, he asked you out? Where? How?”

Jack now shows Sam his phone and Sam recognizes the push messages. The icon is black with an orange mask in the center. 

Oh no, that’s not good. Like absolutely bad.

“On this app. He lives close and he asked me if I like bareback? But I don’t know what he means with that. Does he want to go horse riding with me on a date?”

Sam can’t help but laugh. It’s a diminished, unhappy sound. 

“No, he doesn’t want to go horse riding with you, Jack. He wants to have unprotected sex with you.”

You Got That Medicine I Need

“What do you mean by… that he wants to have unprotected sex with me?”,  Jack asks. 

He was utterly confused about this statement and how Sam came to that conclusion. There’s so much he doesn’t know and so many things he got wrong. Sam also doesn’t help much with his shooting questions and… things like this. Jack furrows his eyebrows, tilting his head. 

“You have to delete this app and stop talking to these creeps.”

Sam looks very upset and Jack doesn’t get why. 

“Answer my question please, what is bareback then? Sam, why do you think he’s a creep? He seems actually nice, he says he likes my eyes and my lips, look!”

He shows his phone again to Sam and he just takes it. Then Sam gets up and starts fumbling on the screen, his eyes narrow. Jack knows this kind of facial expression, he usually sees it when Sam is upset with Dean. Should Jack maybe tell Sam it wasn’t his own idea to install the app? Would that help? Would he then be mad at Dean? But Jack doesn’t want that either, he wants Dean to like him. 

“Jack, it’s gay slang. And this guy”, his voice rises in irritation and suppressed anger, “he looks fishy. Why the hell do you use these apps anyway? You’re with Aurora and… you have no idea about sex yet, casual dating shouldn’t be something you … you like. What is this all about? Jack?”

Jack feels like he’s shrinking to a tiny puddle of shame under Sam’s piercing eyes, his sharp voice and how his chest heaves. He’s also annoyed at the same time. It’s his fathers’ fault he knows so little about sex and how to court people, no one really feels responsible to help him with it, except Dean! Jack looks up to Sam, even when it hurts right now, he hates it so much when Sam is angry. And he feels like he was a dog that took a shit on the carpet and now has to feel utterly guilty for… having essential needs? 

That it’s Sam who tells him to stop makes it even worse. He’s trying to figure out what he feels for Sam, it’s hard enough to see him all day and feel this tickly, hot and cold feeling all over his body and only be able to release it in the silent darkness of his room, quietly moaning and thinking of Sam kissing his tummy and thighs… and even more. Jack feels all the heat building up inside him, it makes his skin crawl and his eyes tear up.

“I want to know if I’m gay or not!”, he says, way louder than intended. “And Dean said it’s a good idea to meet up with men and find out what I like!”

Sam stiffens, chest heaving even harder when he drops his hands and bangs them on the table. 

“Dean told you to install this app?”, he asks. Voice dangerously gentle.

“Yes.”

Jack crosses his arms, defensively. 

And then Sam nudges the smartphone back to Jack. He looks so angry while appearing so calm, apart from his deep breathing. Jack can see the breath vibrate in Sam’s chest and he wishes so badly to lay his head there and hear Sam’s heartbeat, feel his pulse and how his chest moves while breathing. 

Sam’s mouth is a firm little line before he speaks.

“I guess Dean didn’t think his advice through, Jack. This app and many others are made for casual sex and hook ups, and I wouldn’t let you meet any of these guys you’re talking too. You could get hurt”, he then combs through his long hair, fishing for words, “You know that there’s people out there who want harm. It’s too dangerous. Delete it.”

Jack doesn’t attempt to take the phone again, looking at Sam, angry himself.

“No. I need to find out who I am and you keep on handling me with kid gloves!”, he says, voice raised and aggressive. 

This is when Sam slams the table with his fist. “It’s because you are a fucking kid and I don’t want you to be whoring around!”

Wow. 

That feels like a punch in the guts. Jack knows what a whore is. He has googled it after Dean has told ‘whore stories’ at the dinner table when Sam was out with Cas once.

His eyes tear up heavily and there’s a choked sob before Jack grabs his phone and gets up. 

“I’m not a whore, Sam. But good to know you think of me like this.”

Sam's frozen solid for a couple seconds, can’t act on anything but wants to. Jack fumbles on his phone with shaking hands and then shows Sam.

“See, app deleted. No ‘whoring around’ for me.”

And then Jack storms off. Sam calls out after him “Jack, I’m sorry, please come back!” But Jack doesn’t come back. He grabs his jacket and goes outside. He needs some time alone.

*

In the evening, alone in his room, Sam is extremely downhearted. He tried to talk to Jack later, when he came back into the bunker. He even came up to Sam himself to show him the app was still gone, but didn’t talk anymore. Of course Sam apologized every time they saw each other, but Jack didn’t react. 

Damn, he has fucked up so hard this time. And he can’t even lie to himself saying it was just a stupid thing he said. That he didn’t think. Well, he really didn’t think at that moment. There was just … that moment, that hot red moment of possessiveness, of jealousy. And this fata morgana of pure, asexual Jack that Sam could protect and nuture, versus this dark fucked up desire to kiss him, ruin the literal angel. Be the one to show him love. 

To show him how Sam could make him feel, make him come in thousands of ways. Sam’s so touch starved and drawn to Jack and he is so endlessly ashamed of it. It’s not right, he keeps telling himself. It’s wrong to feel attracted to a child. To the child of his rapist. Even Sam cries in bed sometimes, like today. He cries about his stupid words, about how he hurt Jack and how filthy he feels all the time in contrast to the pure and utter arousal picturing the nephil in his bed, sweat covered and hot and willing and moaning Sam’s name when he spills all over his firm stomach. 

Fuck. Holy fuck. This is so bad. 

*

Jack retreated in the forest for a while, listening to angry music on his phone, kicking sticks and stones around till he reached the pond where he just sat down, stared at the glistening surface for an hour or two. He cried a little, too. Sam’s words have hurt him incredibly. Sam is Jack’s role model and the person he wishes to be closest with. And that Sam, especially Sam implies Jack ‘whored’ was so excruciating, that his half human body even threw up the rest of dinner. With his knees pulled to his chest and his face buried in his eyes he cried and cried, before the childlike side in him started rebelling again. Sam has hurt him, but Jack still wants to know what’s wrong with him. Why he feels for Sam, and if it’s because he’s male… or because he’s Sam. 

The feeling hurt even more now, it even hurts now when he’s in bed, staring at the ceiling, still listening to angry yelly music. His body is terribly worked up again, but now Jack reinstalls the app, his profile is still there. He doesn’t know what to do with the old guy who wanted to ‘bareback’ him but he had googled it while staring at the pond and Sam was indeed right. But this old sack wasn’t the only guy Jack was in touch with, there was also Hunter, 25, from Gilead, Kansas. Jack likes the name hunter, because him and his fathers are hunters and hunters are mostly good people. He also likes the name of the city where he’s from, Gilead. It refers to a mystical place in the Bible, which he read a couple times already, but also was the name of the USA in the novel The Handmaid’s Tale by Atwood, which he loved too. And Hunter is nice, very nice and when Sam demanded Jack to delete Grindr, Jack was afraid Hunter would be mad if he didn’t reply to his last message.

But of course Jack wants to reply to Hunter, and there’s two new messages from Hunter which he answers quickly. He gives Hunter his phone number and then decides to delete the app really, just in case Sam wants proof again. Which Jack would maybe deny next time, he is so sick of being treated like a child. Because he’s not. His body is fully developed, and he knows a lot about the world. He knows facts, but it’s hard to find out about all the social stuff. Jack feels alien most of the time, because he has intimidating powers and his angel self works different from his human self. He just has too little experience in human and social interaction and Sam even tries to take away the chances Jack could have to be better at being a human being, which is the side he picked long ago. He wants to be human. Normal. And he wants to be accepted, respected and loved. Not patronised and cared for like a baby. Of course, he knows. He’s defiant and petty but he’s tough and brave enough to learn more about the world and love. 

Aurora isn’t forgotten, he feels bad when he thinks of her, but she also didn’t reply to his last message. Which makes it easier to attach to Hunter, who says in his profile he’s a “vers bottom” (and since no one seems to care about giving Jack a proper talk he googled it and now is indeed in the picture what that means), wants to find true love and relationships. His favourite movies are Star Wars and Lord of the Rings and he likes novels like Lord of the Flies and Fahrenheit 451. He sounds so intelligent and nice, Jack trusts him already after a few days of texting. He seemed able of critical thought and he liked books Jack also liked and they spent a day just talking about religious imagery in The Great Gatsby. But yeah, Jack was totally whoring around. Surely.

Tonight he’s too hurt to let his usual thoughts of Sam go too far, instead he opens his messenger app and he doesn’t have to wait very long after messaging Hunter to get a reply.

Jack smiles when Hunter asks if he is in bed already and what he’s thinking of. Jack texts back he thinks of a certain dark haired, brown eyed man he likes. Hunter looks a bit like Sam and Jack can lie to himself casually here. The texts turn hotter with every turn and Jack’s heart starts pacing, his hand sliding under the seam of his underwear while he reads Hunter’s latest message, describing how he would undress Jack, kiss him and let his hand wander where Jack wasn’t touched by anyone else than himself so far. 

In the morning he feels way better. Hunter’s messages have given him some very nice moments of pleasure but he also feels a little guilty. He hasn’t replied to the hot messages because he’s a total newbie and doesn’t even know what he likes himself. When he told Hunter in the night he’s a virgin, Hunter was very nice and understanding and told Jack he doesn’t have to reply if he feels insecure. 

This sort of validation is something Jack wants to have from Sam but after what Sam said and how deeply it impacted Jack’s trust in him, he tried to let go of this hope. Sam thinks he’s a child. Or a whore. Or both. Jack knows about Nabokov’s Lolita and wonders if Sam thinks he raised him to be seductive to old creeps like the bareback guy. 

One way or the other, Jack is hurt and pissed off, but overall he feels better and steadier today, his ego is petted very thoroughly by Hunter. Maybe one day Jack won’t need Sam’s approval and affection anymore. Seems a nice thought today.

When Jack gets dressed he sneaks up to the kitchen and he can hear from across the floor already Sam is talking to someone. He’s loud, his voice full and usually Jack likes how deep, low and growly Sam can sound when he’s in some kind of situation he’s passionate about, no matter if positive or negative. 

But this sounds like he’s yelling at Dean and that’s never good. 

“Why the actual fuck did you tell Jack to install a gay hook up app, are you out of your rotten mind? He took your word for it and now I am the one who had to clean up this mess!... Yes, he used it and a guy he talked to wanted to meet up and bareback…. Jesus FUCKING Christ Dean that’s not funny-- stop fucking laughing! He could be hurt! You’re such an asshole. I wonder why you fucking hate the kid so much, after all he did for us!... No, I didn’t forget about mom, never will. But you know it wasn’t him. I don’t give a fuck about your feelings right now... Leave the child alone or I swear you’ll regret it!”

A long silence. Jack counts from 50 downwards and stops at 7, when Sam’s voice rises again. 

“Yeah you better. Gimme Cas, I need a word with him.”

Jack has heard enough. “The kid”. “Clean up a mess”. “The child”.

Mary Winchester.

He’s suddenly not hungry anymore and retreats to his room, where his smartphone vibrates the moment he closes the door. It’s Hunter, of course.

Looking To Get Fucked Hard

It takes Jack a day and a half after the phone call to make the first move towards Sam and accepts his apology, which is very well-considered, diplomatic and remorseful. He still feels very hurt by Sam’s words and the fight over the phone with Dean also didn’t help him look over the fact that Sam has a certain edge in his voice when it comes down to explaining ‘adult stuff’ to Jack. Jack, who is naturally curious and eager, but also blunt and innocent, doesn’t quite understand what his problem is. When Jack hears Dean talk about sex with several people, sometimes at once, it doesn’t sound like something he feels ashamed of. He’s even proud of it. 

But Sam is so much more secretive and retreats from any question Jack has from now on. Is sex something bad? And why does he think Jack is acting like a promiscuous person for talking with people online?

It takes another five days in which Jack secretly talks to Hunter over his messenger app and Jack avoids looking at his phone when Sam is around. He doesn’t want to get in another argument again but he also likes the way Hunter makes him feel. Even though Jack is a virgin and inexperienced, Hunter takes him seriously. He treats Jack like an actual adult, with adult needs and adult opinions and an adult body, that is longing for another human’s touch. Jack kind of came to the conclusion that being in love with Sam won’t go anywhere good, not after all the things Sam has said to him. And how he thinks of Jack. As a child, something he has to protect and nourish but for God’s sake don’t touch it. 

Jack doesn’t want protection. He wants to be loved as a man, even though he’s barely a man now. 

Sam’s apology doesn’t change his way of thinking about Jack. 

Damn, why does he have to be in love with Sam, from all people? Maybe it would be even easier with being in love with Dean. Scruffy, grumpy, spiteful, asshole, loyal, troubled, vulnerable Dean?

Is that maybe any better?

But even Dean doesn’t take him seriously as someone who has needs. He gave Jack this damn idea about the app and he probably knew it would cause Jack trouble when Sam found out. 

Over the next days Cas and Dean don’t show up and Sam is worried even when he tries to hide it behind research and angry texts and treating Jack even more than a kid. Makes him his favourite food and drinks, even lets him drink some beer. 

It makes Jack feel even more like someone you need to treat like a timid fawn.

Does nobody see that Jack is no fawn anymore? That he’s ready to grow, that he has intimate, sexual urges. He is prospering for everyone to see, but Sam just squeezes his damn eyes shut and Dean makes fun of him.

And Castiel probably doesn’t even know what it all means because he’s a full grown celestial angel, or an ‘eldritch horror’ as Dean sometimes puts it. 

Time to sow his wild oats.

After a week of absence it seems clear, Cas and Dean are either having a good time or they’re getting lost somewhere in a brothel or a casino or whatever humans do in Las Vegas. Sam doesn’t tell Jack where exactly they are, but Jack thinks they got somewhere to also let off some steam. 

Jack decides to meet with Hunter, after they had some very thrilling conversations at night. It’s mostly that Jack still imagines Sam when he touches himself but Hunter is giving him a lot of things to think about. He doesn’t feel that naive and innocent anymore, now that someone tells him he’s hot, he’s cute, he’s desirable. He is equal. 

No more thinking of ‘down there’s and that kissing is oh so sacred. It’s a change that would scare Jack if he wasn’t so eager to show off to Sam he was mature enough to be treated equally. Hunter presses the right buttons. And all of them at once. 

Jack wants to know how it feels to kiss, to be touched in places, he even wants to touch someone else. And if he keeps telling himself it’s Sam, while he’s with Hunter, he might even enjoy it more. They look so much alike, or at least how Jack thinks Sam looked when he was way younger. Maybe Hunter’s smaller, and what Jack saw from his body wasn’t that defined and muscular, but he can dream. His imagination is going strong. 

His hormones and his contact with another man who shows interest in him make Jack cocky.

They set the date already two days after the fight with Sam and today is the day. Sam and Jack still don’t spend much time together and in the morning Sam announced he will be doing some inventory in a room he was able to unlock with a smell Rowena left him. He told Jack about shelves full with old scripts and mason jars labelled with ‘icky stuff’ and he thinks that in no way the Man of Letters Cuthbert Sinclair would’ve left such a mess and vague labels. Icky could mean a lot. 

Jack doesn’t mind and tells Sam he wants to read The Magic Mountain by Thomas Mann.

“That’s a piece of work, Jack”, Sam says, a little proud maybe. “I never made it through it.”

“Well I read some articles about it already and I’m very interested about the portrayal of eroticism, life and death.”

He can’t leave it. He has to tell Sam about the sex stuff he’s interested in. The protagonist of the novel is said to be bisexual and Jack would really like to read it. 

But not today, he will drive to Gilead to meet Hunter, as soon as Sam will drown in his inventory. 

“You also should focus on the motif of time and its correlation with life and death”, Sam says, ignoring the eroticism. He’s unapproachable with the issue at all. It drives Jack up the walls, since his hormones, hurt ego and the cockiness took over his thinking.

“Thrilling.”

Jack means it sarcastically and catches a glance from Sam that he can’t quite ignore. The tension between them grows weirder every day instead of resolving. 

He gets up now, he needs to shower and get ready soon. 

Jack doesn’t know why, but there pops up a thought in his head. About making love.

He wouldn’t do that today. In his nightly thoughts he still couldn’t wrap his head around the difference. 

Of course he’d never admit it, but Jack still knows nothing about love but that he feels something for Sam that comes pretty close.

Sam knows something’s off. That something is still off. Jack is reserved, but sometimes also irritating. Passive aggressive. Mopey. Yes, of course, Sam has apologized as often and honestly as he could but nothing seemed to help Jack and him to find a common ground again. He understands Jack wants to be treated differently, like something he isn’t just yet in Sam’s eyes. It’s his need for being the guardian that doesn’t let him treat Jack like an adult. Let him drink whiskey, watch porn, have sex. The contradiction of his own sexual attraction to Jack and the need for control and guidance drives Sam up the walls too and he has no one he could talk to about it. Dean is distant in his own manner, he’s fled with Cas and after Sam had yelled at him over the phone about letting Jack use this sex app there’s radio silence. Just a quick heads up from Cas now and then. Sam feels like the trip for just the two of them isn’t helping the way he wished for.

This is why he needs to do the damn inventory. Keep himself busy. Think about something else than Jack being a little jerk all of a sudden, Dean’s whiskey consumption and Castiel’s helplessness. Is Castiel even helpless? Or does he just pretend he doesn’t see something is terribly off? Being alone with Jack makes it really rough. Either Jack’s too close, or he’s too reserved, there’s no balance at the moment, and in his mind, it’s also either Jack grinding on his lap or Jack, far away with Aurora or that nasty creep from the app. 

Gladly he’s deleted it and they didn’t need to have a talk about it again. Sam would be furious if Jack lied to him. Furious, because he’s jealous, helpless and sexually gone rogue. 

Why is it so wrong to feel this way? 

In the storage room there’s utter chaos and Sam will probably spend two days in here. Today, he embraces chaos. Chaos is good, because he can break it down and bring it into an order. His order. His system. He even brought instrumental music to have something to drown his own dark, sorrowful and horny thoughts. It will get over soon. He won’t be crossed in love with Jack forever. He can push through this.

But does he really want to?

Sam is so busy with tidying up that weird room that he doesn’t notice anything else is going on. Jack can hear faint flute music across the halls when he sneaks around. He has put on his best shirt, ripped stone washed jeans and a leather jacket that Dean inherited to him. Involuntarily, because he actually wanted to throw it away and like some old shirts, Jack just picked it up and kept it. 

He also did his hair the way Sam said once, it looks good on him. Then maybe Hunter would like it, too?

Jack takes one of the keys for the Volvo in which Sam had taught him to drive. 

Ironic. Sam lets Jack drive, but God forbid he does other adult things!

With the key in his shaking, sweaty hands Jack sneaks off to the carpool garage. The Volvo is purple and has two scratches (long ones) from Jack’s driving lessons, but Jack owns the shame about it now. He unlocks it, gets inside and opens the navigation app on his phone. It says he will be on the road for around 90 minutes, which is okay. He has brought an audiobook, three bottles of water, some protein bars and a charger for his phone. Better to have a fully charged phone, Sam says. Not everything Sam says is bull, even when it feels to Jack like it. He’s gone through a lot of feelings for Sam lately, one of them was anger because he also felt like Sam would patronise him in the most hypocritical way. As if he didn’t try stuff out when he was younger! Dean has told a story or two. But Dean also said Sam’s not gay and that’s not completely true, he found out. Sam is about the person, not gender. So, yes, he’s not gay. But he’s also not straight. If he was just in love with Jack, too. It would be so easy and Jack wouldn’t be so worked up about it.

Jack tries to shoo the thoughts away when he texts Hunter that he’s on his way, but of course he can’t. Sam is always on his mind.

*

If Sam knew he caused a moderately severe teenage rebellion and a sexuality crisis, he probably would’ve never said such bad things to Jack, and he would’ve tried to reconcile even harder. But this way he’s wound up in his inventory distractions, trying to shut the whole issue out. 

Sam jerks up when he hears a noise from the hall. It’s probably just Jack walking around. Maybe the damn Magic Mountain and its discourse about damn eroticism was too much for Jack and he looks for something else to read. Sam sees him with all the heavy stuff actually. He read the Iliad, the Odyssey, the complete works of W. B. Yeats and the baroque geste The Fairie Queene by Edward Spenser in the Middle English original and he wouldn’t shut up about it for weeks. Sam has a hard time reading this epic poem, it’s complicated and he feels like he needs to have graduated in literature or linguistics to make sense of it. The problem is, Sam is maybe smart, but Jack is a fucking genius. Sam hates to admit it but the kid is so smart, he outwits Sam vertiginously.There’s not much Sam can actually teach him but what he can teach he doesn’t want to. Sex for example. But Dean is a shitty substitute and maybe, yeah, maybe Sam should do it. It will be embarrassing and awful but Dean would drag Jack to a fetish club or something and he can’t let that happen. It’s enough that his three father figures all are a bit weird, Jack could end up like a vanilla type of person and do something remotely decent for a change. 

Maybe he should consider giving Jack some sappy romance novel, some light fare. Something that won’t stimulate Jack’s curiosity about the deep endless pits of the human mind, or human sexuel desires. Something that would scratch surfaces but not go too deep. Nora Roberts maybe, but when Sam thinks about it he remembers her novels as repetitive, and not without a problematic approach of gender dynamics, masculinity and love.

Damn. Now he’s thinking about Jack again. 

It will never stop.

Sam considers a break. Just to get himself a sandwich, maybe sit together with Jack and give him another honest and more straight forward talk about how and why Sam is the way he is and why he is so different from Dean. He’s pretty sure he’s given very honest and clear answers to Jack’s questions before they had that stupid fight. Labels really aren’t Sam’s jam, but maybe Jack feels better to know labels and then decides they fit or they don’t. And Jack should know that Sam has been vulgar, unfair and downright wrong with his wording and with patronising him like that. It was not his place to send him to his room like a stubborn kid. He kind of realizes now, that Jack is so much more. He deserves a chance to understand the complex dynamics of human interaction in any kind and Sam should let him.

On his way to the kitchen he hears even more clanking of plates, a running coffee maker and sizzling. It smells like steak. 

This is weird. Jack doesn’t like coffee. Jack also doesn’t know how to make a steak, that’s Dean’s thing.

Dean’s thing.

Oh no. Sam hurries to the kitchen, before Jack maybe sets something on fire and when he appears in the doorframe, calling out for Jack a very confused Castiel and Dean are in the kitchen, Dean almost drops the hot pan. Cas jerks in surprise and burns his hand with hot coffee.

“Jesus Fuck, Sam! You scared the living shit outta me!” Dean exclaims, looking confused. 

Cas wipes his burnt hand clean of the spilled hot coffee.

“Why are you here?”, Cas asks and looks at Sam. 

Sam is just as confused as they are at that point.

“Better question is, why are you two here? I thought it was Jack in the kitchen.”

He doesn’t even have time to be relieved about seeing Dean in good condition. He really looks good and relaxed. But at his brothers’ question he raises his eyebrows and turns off the stove. 

“I, uh, actually sent you a message a couple hours ago we’re comin’ home Sammy. Enough Vegas. You didn’t reply and then when we parked Baby in the garage, the Volvo wasn’t there. That’s why we” - Dean gestures to Cas - “deduced you and Jack are maybe going somewhere and you didn’t check your messages.”

Sam’s confusion grows. “No, we didn’t go anywhere. I unlocked a secret storage room right on the way down to the pool areas and I’m doing inventory. Jack is in his room. He reads some old dusty Thomas Mann novel, because he’s into phalluses all of a sudden.”

Dean coos a laugh and Castiel clears his throat. Then all three get a glimpse on the fact that something may be wrong here.

“Well, if we’re all here, who took the Volvo?”, Cas asks, silently healing his burn.

Sam could swear Dean mumbles a “son of a bitch” under his breath before he says: “Well, not everyone is here. We should look for Jack.”

Jack isn’t in his room. His shoes and his shoulder bag are gone. The Volvo keys are missing. The situation is pretty clear. Jack has gone somewhere and didn’t tell Sam.

Son of a bitch.

Screwed Up, Scared, Doing Anything That I Needed

The date doesn’t quite go as Jack imagined it to go. Hunter is indeed the man he texted with, but he’s only ever seen the chest or his face and now Hunter looks distinctively older than he claimed on Grindr to be. Jack is too shy to ask him about it, he feels like it’s maybe rude. Hunter has used an old photo on Grindr, that’s for sure. They sat down in a bar anyway, it’s fall and it’s dawning already. Hunter offers to buy Jack drinks and given the fact Jack wouldn’t get drunk he accepts. 

But Hunter seems weird. The conversation stops a couple of times and he asks a lot about Jack’s love life, but Hunter knows already, he’s inexperienced, right?

After an hour and two cocktails Jack retreats to the toilet to wash off the weird feeling he has. Hunter is nice to him, there’s no reason for him to be more suspicious. Maybe Hunter was just embarrassed because he’s lost some hair already, and the started balding on the back of his head. When Jack turns around, he gets stuck at the restroom’s stalls door and his phone nosedives in the sink where the water is still running.

“Oh shoot!”, Jack cries out. That can’t be real right now!

He tries to dry off the phone best as he can but he knows it will be best to turn it off and put it in rice. He has no idea about how to get home though and he kind of wants to go home soon. There’s no connection to Hunter as he wished there would be. 

Back in the bar Hunter awaits him with what he calls a Gin Tonic. Jack chugs it down and he doesn’t like the taste at all.

“Oh you can take a lot!”, Hunter says and Jack gets the idea that he isn’t amused about how much Jack can drink. 

“Yes, I umm, maybe it’s my very fresh liver”, Jack says, but he doesn’t go any further.

“Look, Hunter. You are a nice person, but I don’t feel a real connection. I’m very sorry”, Jack says, being very guilty of wasting the man’s time. 

Hunter shrugs it off. “Don’t worry about it, Jack, we just wanted to meet and find out, right? But would you be so kind and ask the barista for his number for me? He seems to be flirting but I’m shy, as you may have … noticed.” 

Jack is a bit irritated, but he wants to do the man a favor and agrees. “I wanted to order a coke anyway”, Jack says, getting up. “Do you want something more?”

The older man just gives him a crooked smile. 

“Nah, I’m good, champ.”

Champ. Who says champ?

Jack goes over to the bar where the barista (tall, handsome, eyeliner and old school tattoos, maybe as old as Jack passes with). As innocent as he still is in his rebellion he asks him about his name and number.

“Who do you want that for?”, the barista asks him, pouring him a glass of coke.

Jack hates lying, that’s why he points over to Hunter with his thumb. 

“My date over there.”

The barista huffs and shakes his head.

“No, but if you want my number I’ll give it to you.”

Jack declines.

“That is very nice of you, but I’m already in love with someone and I think I won’t be with anyone else very soon.”

“I’m Baz, if you change your mind”, that’s when the barista gives him a slip of paper with his instagram URL on it. 

“Thank you, Baz”, Jack smiles at him and waves when he takes the coke in his hands and goes back to Hunter. 

He’s on the phone, texting someone and Jack just remembers he maybe needs to get a phone call or some maps print to find his way home. His phone shouldn’t be turned on again and he should maybe call Sam to pick him up. That’s really a dumb situation he’s in. Hunter doesn’t look up at first but eventually does and Jack sits down.

“I’m sorry, he’s not interested”, Jack says and takes a sip of his coke. 

Hunter sighs but he kind of doesn’t look all too disappointed. “Thanks for the effort though.”

“Hunter, I have a little problem, my phone got wet in the restroom and I need to print a map or call my dad to fetch me here.”

That’s something he seems to like hearing and Hunter relaxes. 

“Not a problem, you can come home with me, it’s not far. You can use my printer if you like and I can give you a bag and some rice to put your phone in. It’s no big deal.”

Jack sighs in relief and relaxes a bit. It’s dark outside already, the kind of darkness, that’s not all consuming, but creepy enough. Jack doesn’t like being outside alone for too long and he’s glad Hunter is willing to help.

He wants to pay for himself, this is why Jack gets up and pays his drinks at the register. When he’s back he exes his coke, that tastes strangely bitter this time and maybe it’s just some residual from the cleaning agent. Hunter smiles and gets up too to pay. Jack buttons up his jacket and they leave the bar together. 

The air is crisp and there’s a hint of rain. Jack can taste the drops already. 

The walk is a little longer than expected and when they arrive at the house, Jack finally gets suspicious. Hunter claims to live on the second floor, and there’s light in two of the rooms. Did he leave his lights on? That is wasting resources and Sam doesn’t like it when Jack would leave the lights on. 

Jack doesn’t give it any more thoughts. Somehow Jack feels a bit icky now, there’s a bitter taste in his mouth and his sight is getting a tiny bit blurry, frayed on the edges. Hunter lets him in. 

“If you like, you can wait here for a second, I uh, I think I didn’t tidy up very well, I didn’t think we’d come home”, Hunter says, giving Jack a crooked smile. The apartment is tiny, the fitted kitchen just has a small fridge and two hot plates. There’s a microwave and an electric kettle, a toaster and a coffee maker. All in all it looks tidy, but worn, the wallpaper of the corridor looks yellow-ish and it smells of cigarettes. Jack doesn’t like it when people smoke and he’s glad none of his dads do so. Hunter hurries to a door that maybe leads to the living room and sleeping room. Jack has very good senses and he doesn’t feel like he’s alone. There’s footsteps and breathing and the smell of something clinical. 

Jack needs to lean against the counter of the kitchen unit and close his eyes. He feels uneasy, something is wrong and he knows he should go. His body feels heavy and his thoughts delay.

And that’s when Jack can hear another man as clear as a bell saying something to Hunter.

“Dude, why did you bring him here? He’s still conscious!”

Then Hunter.

“I had no choice, I gave him the whole bottle. That shit could kill an elephant but he’s still walking straight. I had no idea what to do!”

“You fucking retard!”

This is so loud now, Jack would even hear it if the men didn’t whisper. Jack knows he should react much faster but he feels like he’s walking through water when he reaches for the door and opens it.

And what he sees is nothing he expected.

Jack’s phone is dead.

“What do we do now?”

Sam is clearly panicking and Dean is moderately concerned now, too. Cas kind of holds his shit together, but he also worries. 

The angel also is the one to make first assumptions. 

“Every of our cars has a GPS tracker, right? We can find him like this, we just have to consult the app.”

Sometimes it sounds like Cas thinks there’s a breathing person on the other end of the line looking the GPS signal up for him, but neither Sam or Dean really bother to make fun of him for a change. 

“This is my fault.”

Sam of course blames himself. He has been unfair to Jack, he even insulted him. Something that Sam would never do. If he was still a bit sane, but he seems like his feelings for Jack just turn him inside out. But then he looks at Dean, who really makes a guilty face right now and Sam has an idea.

“No, actually it’s your fault, Dean. You told him about the damn app. We had a fight about it and a couple days later he sneaks out? He must’ve kept contact with someone.”

Dean frowns and crosses his arms, defensively. 

“Well I didn’t expect him to pull it off, I mean the boy is clearly in love with you, Sam. I thought that would help him enough through his identity crisis.”

Sam just ignores Dean’s suggestion, Jack would be in love with Sam. Sam would know that, right? He would notice, if Jack was seeking his attention? And given the nature of their relationship that would be absolutely inappropriate.

As inappropriate as his own feelings for Jack.

“Stop making fun of him, I swear, I’ll strangle you myself if something happened to him.”

“Whatever.” Dean says and shrugs. “I know I’m right about that. You should’ve just, dunno, give him a hand or so.”

“You’re unbelievable!”

Before Sam could really reach out and knock his brother unconscious, Castiel interferes. Physically and vocally.

“Sam, Dean. This isn’t helping. It doesn’t matter whose fault it is that Jack is gone, we need to find him. The GPS app says the car is parked in Gilead, Kansas. That’s about an hour and a half away from here. I turned on angel radio, but Jack isn’t responding. Something has happened. We need to go. I’ll zap us to the car and from there, I can maybe sense him. We have no time for rituals. Let’s hope, he’s okay.”

Sam feels like he is about to collapse and cry his heart out. Jack is out there and maybe he’s in danger. 

Life Imitates Art

What is irritating Jack the most isn’t the camera on a tripod in front of the bed. It’s also not the three strange guys surrounding the bed or Hunter’s surprised and frightened face. It is the tarp spread over the mattress. A black shiny huge tarp and Jack doesn’t have a single idea why it should be there. His vision shifts slightly and there’s a distant ringing in his ears. 

“What is..?” Jack wants to ask but the sentence won’t leave his mouth completely. 

Of course, even he gets now he’s been tricked into something. He’s been so incredibly stupid.

“Come on, boy, just relax”, one of the men says and Jack recognizes the voice. 

It’s the one who called Hunter a retard and complained about Jack still being conscious. That’s why the coke tasted like soap. Hunter tried to drug him!

The man comes closer now, Jack smells his sharp and heavy aftershave and his head is spinning. Gladly, Jack is half angel and the drugs didn’t knock him out. That’s why Hunter gave him too much it seems. He isn’t going to faint or something but Jack is clearly handicapped and when a second guy also comes closing in Jack looks for a way out, but Hunter behind him locks the door. He looks around, panicking, but all he sees is an XXL bottle of massage oil and sex toys. Oh holy shit.

“Don’t come near me!”, Jack says, retreating, but nudging Hunter with his back and Hunter grips his arms. “Don’t touch me!”

Jack knows how it is to be afraid, but this is a whole new level of fear. He fears for what these men will do to him if he doesn’t manage to get out. The familiar sensation of his powers start tickling. First in his stomach, then his arms and then a piercing pain behind his eyes.

“I said, don’t touch me!”

The men won’t stop but one of them is looking at him like he’s a ghost.

“What is happening with his eyes?”, he yells. “Shit, something’s wrong with his eyes!”

This must be the moment Jack’s eyes start glowing golden, like they do when Jack is in a state of emotional distress and he does good so. Because the next thing Jack feels is like his chest is erupting. 

“No one touches me!”

And then the world turns red.

Castiel drags Sam and Dean across the city, all three of them panicking. The Volvo is abandoned, parked in the city but no sign of Jack. They have no idea where to look first and Cas’ doesn’t receive any signal from Jack, and, well, you can see he’s trying very hard to get even a tiny bit of information.

Dean and Sam are still yelling at each other, like that’s helping anyone right now! But Cas is too focused, too worried to care about the mortals fighting like children. 

When Jack’s powers surface, Cas can hear Jack’s enochian voice in his head and it’s shrill, it’s blinding but he knows exactly where they have to go now. He grabs each Winchester and says, following Jack’s call “Shut up, you two. I got him!”

Jack feels dizzy and sick, and he vomits all over the floor. It’s coke and alcohol, gastric acid and the drug Hunter gave him. Everything’s coming out in spurts and Jack is happy to get rid of the poison. The dust in the room settles, three bodies are scattered around him, all of them still breathing but bleeding but one of them, the fourth is crawling towards the door. Jack wants to stop him, because he thinks the man might hurt another boy just like this and he can’t let him get away with it, but his human body is cramping and throwing up bitter fluids. 

The man wails when Sam shows up out of nowhere, sided by Cas and Dean. Jack sees them through a veil of tears, but he can’t get up, all he can do for now is whimper. There’s distant grunts and yelling, hectic moving. Cas helps him sit up and his warm healing light helps Jack regain some conscience. 

“They’re all blacked out”, Jack hears Dean say. “God damn, look at this, Sam. Camera, bed, latex bed sheets, dildos, lube….”

“Gang rape”, Sam just says and Jack can hear his voice shake with anger. 

Then - sounds of plates clashing on the floor and Sam yelling at Dean. And then yelling at Jack who’s still held by Cas to be healed. 

“For fuck’s sake, Jack! What did you do?!”

“We need to leave”, Cas says, “we can’t stay, the eruption didn’t happen unheard. Police will be here soon.”

“Sam?”, Jack moans. “Sam?”

Sam crouches in front of Jack and places his hand on Jack’s cheek. There’s no smile in Sam’s face, which Jack would die for. There’s disappointment and anger. So much anger. 

“I didn’t mean to…”

Jack regains his strength and gets up. “I’m okay, Cas. I can walk.”

It’s no difference if Jack wanted it or not, it happened. He has almost been assaulted and videotaped because he trusted the wrong person. Because he wanted to show Sam he’s an adult, he can make his own decisions. He’s mature enough to date. 

The bitter truth is, that Jack was just a brat and it almost cost him something important. His innocence.

On the way home, Jack and Sam don’t talk much. Dean and Cas zapped back home, but they needed to get the car away from the parking lot and Jack doesn’t want to be zapped, he still feels sick. It’s not only because he threw up all of his meals and drinks today or that he used his powers to defend himself. It was the look on Sam’s face that was utterly sickening. Jack could live with Sam yelling at him again, even calling him a whore or whatever. Call him stupid, childish, bratty, cocky. But the silence is gnawing on Jack’s nerves like a hungry rat. But there’s not much he can say, because if he just told Sam what’s gotten into him he would maybe spill he’s in love with Sam. That he wanted to know what is going on with his body and mind and why he desires Sam of all people on this planet … that Jack wanted to know how it feels to be taken seriously by someone who desires Jack. And if there was a way to forget about Sam with someone else. It didn’t work with Aurora, hell it didn’t work with Hunter. 

Jack wonders if he’ll just be in this state forever. Seeing Sam and immediately daydreaming of his big, strong hands all over Jack’s body. 

Sam doesn’t talk to him for the whole ride except necessities, he doesn’t talk much when they’re home. There’s another very nasty fight between all three of his dads, when they think Jack is already asleep. Cas looked after him half of the night, helped him shower, brought him sandwiches, water and anti nausea pills. He even attempts to talk about what happened but Jack just can’t. Not yet. Not with Cas. How could a seraph, a celestial being, understand Jack’s human nature? And his failures? He tries and Jack is happy about it. He apologizes to Cas more than once but Cas just says, it’s okay, it happens, we all make mistakes. 

But the yelling of Sam and Dean is deafening.

Sam accuses Dean of getting Jack willfully in danger. Dean yelling at Sam for being a fucking coward. A hypocrite, a prude. A liar. 

Dean is a drinker, an asshole, a narcissist, relationally disturbed and overall a bad person. 

If you believe what they say to each other, which Jack doesn’t. 

He doesn’t know what or whom to believe these days.

It takes Dean two days to come up to Jack and apologize. There’s a lot of words being said, all saying the same. That Dean was a prick for saying that, he didn’t mean Jack to get in danger. And somehow Jack thinks, no, he didn’t want Jack to get hurt. He wanted to teach Jack a lesson, whatever that lesson was. Jack wasn’t getting behind it and Dean just manipulates sometimes. He maybe knows the answer and Jack would’ve done a lot to be able to read minds. He could also make all of them stop lying again, but the last time ended in so much chaos… Jack better doesn’t act up at all these days. He’s just happy his fathers found him on time. 

Put Your Hands On My Waist, Do It Softly

It takes Jack three nights to finally go up to Sam’s room and knock. He knows Sam is awake, he may not be able to read minds, but he senses Sam’s distress. 

“Yeah?”, Sam calls.

“Sam, uh, it’s me, Jack. Can I come in?”

A loud sigh, creaking of the bed. 

“Sure. Come in.”

Jack feels like the damn newborn fawn he didn’t want to be mistaken for in this moment when he worms into Sam’s room and closes the door behind him. Sam is in his shorts only, Jack in his pajamas, but when Jack is honest, he didn’t sleep a single minute since they got back to the bunker. He is afraid of the dark and the loneliness and he misses Sam around him so damn much, he cries until his eyes burn and his face is swollen. 

“Sam, I wanted to say, … I am sorry, I shouldn’t have lied to you about the app. I shouldn’t have snuck out to meet a shady guy so far away. I’m really sorry.”

Sam looks up. 

“Jack, what you did was stupid, rash and irresponsible but I’m not the one you should apologize to. I should apologize to you, but all of this won’t make it undone, you know?”

He tears up again when he sees the hurt look on Sam’s face.

“Look, I know I was mean to you and I was overprotective, rude and I didn’t even tell you why I’m not telling you everything about love and sex you want and need to hear. I should have because I’m your caretaker and I should’ve known better. I don’t blame you even half as much as I blame myself.”

At first Jack wants to protest, but Sam is right. There’s been mistakes on both sides with a hint of Dean spicing things up. 

“Can I sit down?”, Jack then asks, still standing in the corner at the door. 

Sam gets up and puts his laundry away from the only available seat. Except his bed. 

Jack sits down, rubbing his face and squeezing his legs together. Damn tears. He even has a headache. 

“I wanted to understand”, Jack mumbles, looking down at his lap. “Why I feel certain things for certain people-”, he looks up, Sam’s face is still a stiff grimace, “... why is it all so confusing?”

“Love?”, Sam asks.

“Yes, love. Sex. All of it.”

There’s a minute of nerve wracking silence, before Jack has the guts to say it.

“I only ever wanted to know how it is with you.”

It’s so quiet now, Jack imagines he could hear a pin drop at the gas station out of Lebanon. He knows he dropped a bomb right here, but he overheard another fight with Dean calling Sam a hypocrite -again- and ‘having the hots for the kid’. Apart from being called a damn kid again, Jack checked what that means. Having the hots. And well, yeah, Jack himself has the hots for Sam and he doesn’t want to live with the uncertainty anymore. He won’t meet anyone else he wants to be with, not in a very long time and if Sam doesn’t reciprocate his feelings, he can still try to move on. But there’s no moving on in a vacuum. Like now.

“Dean is right?”, Jack asks carefully, his voice is thin.

“Dean is right”, Sam finally admits and buries his face in his hands. “But it doesn’t mean it’s right. You know?”

“I know.”

Another second passes.

“No, actually I don’t know, Sam. I don’t think it’s wrong. You said you’d never judge. But why did you do so when I needed your approval the most?”

Sam looks helpless, wringing his hands. 

“Because I was jealous and I shouldn’t be.”

“I would’ve liked your jealousy more than being insulted by you.”

It’s visible how uncomfortable Sam is, he’s fighting emotions. Jack is, too. But he’s crying already. What happened to Jack was terrifying, but what he really, truly fears is Sam’s rejection.

“I’m sorry, Jack.”

“Stop being sorry and start being honest with me… Don’t you think I deserve it now? I know I’ve changed very radically. I used to go to town in my damn pajamas. That’s barely four weeks ago and it feels like years already.”

Sam smiles now. Even a little sad.

“Yes, it was actually very adorable. Seeing you like this.”

“I’m not adorable anymore. I’m not that naive anymore. Why can’t you just… see me like Dean sees Cas?”

“That’s a very bad example and you know it.”

Now Jack laughs and wipes away some cold tears from his face. 

“And I already see you like this, Jack. But I feel guilty for it. I’m here to keep you safe. I want to be the person you turn to when you’re lost, I want to guide you, but also be the person that’s your safe haven. Can I do that when we… Jack, when we get together, our relationship will change. We will get to know each other in ways that might scare you. Or even scare me. I’m afraid of that. And if I’m afraid, you should be, too.”

When Jack gets up and sits beside Sam on the bed, without asking first -- it feels like a very bold move for Jack. He likes being close to Sam and feeling his body radiate warmth and safety but also desire and a pull that’s hard to resist, Jack knows it’s the right thing.

“I’m not afraid. I’ve been afraid in Gilead, but when I’m with you, I know nothing bad will ever happen to me.”

Sam’s face yells OBJECTIONS but Jack ignores it.

Jack leans on Sam’s shoulder, the touch feels electrifying and at first, Sam stiffens, but then relaxes and puts his hand around Jack’s shoulders.

“I’m not afraid”, Jack says again. 

Sam nuzzles his nose against Jack’s hair and kisses him right behind his ear. Jack feels violent hot shudders all over and that is the most intense thing he’s ever felt for anyone.

“It feels good”, he mumbles, turning his face to Sam. 

Sam is close, incredibly close and despite the hot shudders Jack gets goosebumps all over. It feels like that one time he had fevers, when he was dying, but in a good way. The best possible way. 

Jack doesn’t receive a kiss on his lips, as he wished for, Sam kisses his cheek and his jaw. Just slightly. But to Jack it feels like he’s a dying sun out there in the universe and he’s being eaten up by heat and flares of light. 

And then Sam’s hand reaches for Jack’s.

“I still need time…”, he whispers, “we both need some time. To be sure.”

“I’m very sure.”

“Give it a minute”, Sam says, hot breath lingering over Jack’s face. “Just a minute…”

Even Sam can’t wait the damn minute before he kisses Jack. Gentle and soft like a hummingbird.

"This is Heaven, what I truly want."

[letsbenditlikebennett]

Catching Pup || Ariana & Ulfric

TIMING: Current PARTIES: @ulfricvinterson & @letsbenditlikebennett SUMMARY: Ulfric and Ariana catch up over breakfast. Long story short, it was a  bad mime. 

A lot could change over the course of a few months. Too much, really. When Ariana looked at her life now, there were so many small empty spaces that used to be filled with light and life. Everything seemed dimmer now, though she couldn’t quite place if that was just the winter or her own grief clouding her vision. A big change was that she found herself nervous to see Ulfric again. He’d been gone some months now and while she’d been taking care of his cats, it’s not like she had been worrying him with her problems while he was away. It dawned on her that maybe she should have been, but there were a lot of things she should have done. Ulf would likely want to be filled in on things and she couldn’t help but feel like it would be her letting yet another person down. Sure, Ulfric didn’t need her to save him so at least it wouldn’t be as catastrophic as the other let downs. That didn’t make the prospect of disappointing him sting any less. 

Ariana tried to shake those thoughts away as she worked on the Guinness in front of her. The gray-haired waiter had barely even glanced at her fake ID which was probably for the better. Her fingers anxiously drummed along the tabletop almost in beat with the random old rock song that was playing. Normally the pub had a soccer match on to keep her occupied even when she was alone, but it was out of season now. So she kept on trying to focus on the music rather than her thoughts until the bell above the door rang. The familiar smell clued her in that he was here and she looked up eagerly from the booth, peeking her head over the back. He spotted her quickly enough and she smiled as he took the seat across from her. “Hey,” she said excitedly, “It’s good to have you back. I think Princess will 100% agree with me there. I’m pretty sure she hates me, but you know what she’s valid. Is it good to be back though?” 

 The road was long, the weather was fair at best and quite dangerous at worst, and even worse still, the whole of the trip was only filled with peripheral acquaintances. It was nice enough to have someone to drink with or someone to share the night alongside, but Ulfric found himself missing the close connections he built into his life back in White Crest. Perhaps it was the yearning for a pack, or maybe he was just growing soft as he aged, but every time he was away he felt this emptiness. It could very well have meant the old wolf was finally in a place where he needed to be. 

Maybe, maybe. 

His old beat up jeep rumbled to a stop as he pulled into the dive. A whisper of a smile, just barely noticeable under that big red mustache, graced his lips when he stepped out. The cool dusty smell that permeated just before a big snow storm lofted on the winds around him. There were other smells too. Woodsmoke, the kids across the street experimenting with some… extra dank cigarettes… whatever was cooking at the three or four eateries in walking distance, and diesel engines from the big trucks vying for dominance in a sphere of hypermasculinity, which really only mattered to the select few who actually cared. The rest of the town paid more attention to the obvious overcompensation that usually accompanied anything more than 8 cylinders in an engine. A croak of a laugh escaped him. Home. 

Ulfric shook off the cold and entered the bar. New smells and sounds washing over him like a wave along with the warmth pushing the bitter chill back out of his bones and into the night air. Ari. Didn’t take long to find her amongst the regulars. 

“Despite her protests I’m pretty sure Princess actually likes you more than me.” He slid into the seat, having to adjust a bit to fit his whole frame comfortably between the table and the booth behind them. Comfortable enough he motioned to the bartender, one of the older crew who had been around long enough to know exactly what the mountain of a man wanted to drink without him ever having to say a word. “Feels like putting on an old glove that you forgot in the snow. Brings you back a bit of warmth in here.” He nursed his whiskey with one hand and pointed to his chest with the other. 

“You’ve been getting along well enough without me I hope? Not too much trouble from her royal majesty?” 

 Somehow it seemed hard to believe that Princess liked Ariana better than literally anyone. The cat seemed to possess nothing but disdain for her. The kittens liked her well enough though that seemed to be a trend. She thought fondly of Moira before remembering she wouldn’t see her again. The frown she quickly tried to shake came across as a slight grimace before she finally laughed. “I think the only thing Princess likes about me is the fact I make her homemade treats. Me, she could take or leave. Fish treats are a total take.” That fluffy cat really did have quite the personality. 

There was something comforting in the way the bartender just knew Ulfric’s order. The same way he knew she was going to go for the all you can eat English breakfast. All the little things that came with calling one place home for more than a month or two. Ulfric’s presence in and of itself had always had a comforting aspect to it, too. Ariana had always felt understood by the older wolf and even though she was learning more and more no one was ever really safe, she felt safer with him around. She kept her hands clasped around her beer and smiled as he spoke. “Hm,” she pondered for a moment, “That makes sense. Think that’s how it feels having you back.” 

Ariana had expected him to ask about things while he was gone and she had been dreading it. How was she even supposed to answer that question? She shifted in the booth seat with a nervous laugh. “Do I look like I’d get into trouble without you? Princess wasn’t any trouble though. Just a little standoffish.” Her hand left her beer glass and ran through the blue ends of her hair. She’d never been a great liar and even trying to write off all the messes she made in his absence felt wrong. “You know what, don’t answer that,” she said jokingly but her tone fell a little flat, “Okay, maybe I got into a little trouble while you were gone, but lessons learned or something.” She couldn’t even begin to wrap her mind around explaining it all, so she’d test her luck with not. She quickly tried to change the subject and asked, “How was your trip though? See anything cool?” 

 “Clearly the trouble was nothing you could not handle little pup.” Pride. The kind one could only feel as a monster, seeing another flourish even without your help. Truly he never thought of their kind as monsters exactly. But the colloquial term was fun enough when left just to thoughts and not accusations. To Ulfric it was powerful. A term of endearment. There was a great deal of power held in that title. But the same cannot be said for everyone’s feelings. 

There was a troubled look about her. Nervous. Not her usual color. “Oh you know.” His accent had a way of slipping in and around the ohs. “Think I saw a thunderbird out in Colorado, but it could have just as easily been a trick of the light and a regular old condor following the scent of death.” Nerves, like the slippery ohs, have a way of finding their way out into the light eventually. No use prying it out of her. If she had something she wanted to share, he would let her do it in her time. Ulfric sat forward, and produced a dark yet somehow brilliantly shimmery feather from his coat. “A present for you.” The plumage twirled between his pointer and his thumb. The dim lights of the bar catching oil slick glints. And at just the right angle, one could almost say they saw a dash lightning streak between the flicks of fuzz. 

“If it truly is a feather from a thunderbird; I’m fairly certain that it can be quite useful in terms of magick, but ah, it-- also it could be just a pretty mantlepiece.” The old wolf offered it across the table. “For you.” 

 Ariana nodded slowly for a moment. She wasn’t exactly sure she could say she handled it and he was looking at her so… proudly? “Or something like that. I’m not sure I handled it well. Two people are dead and I was promise bound by a shady fae for a bit there, but you know, alive and all that. Managed to save a couple of people too, so. I don’t know.” It wasn’t an in depth explanation, but she’d felt inclined to be honest with him. She respected him far too much for anything less. 

It didn’t take long for their first plate of food to come out and Ariana could hear her own stomach rumbling. Everything already smelled delicious though something on the plate smelled sweet which threw her off a bit. She took a bite of the sausage before she looked at Ulf incredulously. A thunderbird? She’d never seen one before and she’d lived in Colorado for a couple of months. “A thunderbird,” she asked with a tilted head and a full mouth. “What do they look like? Are they like… thunder-y birds? Is that a thing?” Her eyes widened as he pulled out a feather for her. She looked at it in awe and inspected it once he handed it to her. There was a certain glimmer to it. “I get the thunderbird name now,” she said as she inspected the feather. She could always ask Nell or Luce about magical properties, but she’d much rather keep it as a memory. “I think I’ll keep it as a decoration. It’s nice having gifts around to remind you of people you care about.” She knew far too well how important those little mementos could become when they were all you had left. “Thank you,” she said cheerfully before stuffing her mouth with more of her breakfast. She swore the black and white pudding seemed to shift on her plate on its own, but shrugged it off as a trick on her eyes. “You know, I lived in Colorado for a few months back when I was 13�� 14?? Something like that. Did you enjoy it? They have some of the best hiking and camping spots.”

 Ulfric pushed his lips up and gave a slight nod. “Two?” Details, details. How they flow once the cork has been pulled. “But...  you are still here Ari. That means something. You are stronger than you give yourself credit for.”  

He had to admit, he was interested in what actually went on. But there were ways of finding out. More gossipy minded folk around town, those who liked to share the stories that they may not have personally been affected by. Better than forcing it from someone who it clearly makes them uncomfortable.  Ulf always had a bit of distance that way. Though not always for the better. His semi-cavalier approach might give people the sense that he just didn’t care. But that couldn’t be further from the truth. For those he considered part of his pack, he’d push to the ends of the earth and beyond. He just also liked things to come in their own time. When it was right. When it would hurt the least. 

Attention returned to the feather. “Yes, they are said to be protectors, big hulking things, wingspan anywhere between four metres and ten. Call the storms on their wings, bringing rain to those who need it.” The old wolf loved stories. Collected them wherever possible, from whoever. They were the spark that kept all cultures alive. And being a creature of ‘folklore’ himself, it was nice to be able to separate what was from what wasn’t. “I’ll admit I didn’t believe in them exactly until I saw it. It was either one very brave bird, or it was commanding the lightning as if it was challenging Thor himself.” 

Food. Oof. His stomach rumbled. Most of the time he only came to the bar for a neat whiskey and company. Never really paid much attention to the menu. “What tastes good here?” 

 Ariana nodded solemnly as she thought of Sammy and Todd. All her efforts to save them hadn’t been enough and she simply answered, “Yes, two.” She took a moment and looked down at the dark beer in her glass. There was a good chance Ulfric was right. She found he usually was. She reminded herself that she did everything she could and agreed, “Yeah, I know you’re right. Guess sometimes it’s just hard to not wish you could have done more.” How many times had she said to other people who were grieving? It was just hard to make it resonate, but maybe that was all part of the process. 

It was a relief that Ulfric didn’t push too much for more answers. Everything was still fresh and hard to talk about. Ariana much preferred to hear about the thunderbird. Whether it was real or not hardly mattered. Sometimes, nature was a magic all its own and she’d love her gift all the same. It’d remind her of Ulfric and being thought of was always nice. She tried to imagine a bird glowing like lightning in the sky. “That sounds pretty amazing. Also, just a huge bird. It’s cool to think of them bringing the storms with them. Whether it's a brave bird or a thunderbird, I love the feather.” 

“Oh, this is for both of us! They just keep bringing food out since it’s the all-you-can-eat English breakfast. I have no doubt we can both put back a lot of breakfast food.” She pushed one of the plates with sausage and eggs towards Ulf so he could make a plate. Ariana took a bite of the food from her own plate and noted something tasted off with the black and white pudding. It tasted like… pastries?

Realization crossed her face as she remembered the mime clone of herself that she had to sink her teeth into. “Wait, stop,” she exclaimed though it came out as barely a croak. She tried to form more words, but her voice seemed to have faded. Fucking mimes. As if on queue, the plate on the table with the pudding started to move. The little bits of food came together to form one of the little mime monsters that seemed to be fond of cats. She grabbed her knife from the table and stayed on the ready for it to come toward her, but instead, it seemed interested in Ulf. It probably smelled the cats on him. She waved her arms erratically trying to warn him. 

 There’s an easy confidence that comes with being an apex predator. Unfortunately for Ulfric he’d had enough strength and endurance to cope with the day to day of being a monster that he never really learned to be overly cautious. So in the bullet time moments where Ari tried to warn him, and the piece of toast (with a bit of that pudding) was already on its way to his mouth. 

It bit back. 

Hindsight is, of course, 20/20. The frantic hand gestures she’d been performing had less to do with the heat or flavor of the food, and a lot more to do with the little creature now giving Ulf an impromptu tongue piercing. Terrible technique. Didn’t even sanitize. Not to mention it’s probably against about 50 CDC guidelines to use your own terrible tiny teeth to do the piercing. Probably. 

The sudden bright pain in his mouth, the bits of blood now trickling out, and the very odd sensation of tiny feet on his lips caused the big man to jump back. Bumping the table and knocking a few more of it’s friends to the floor along with a plate and what was left of his whiskey. 

Shame. 

That was top shelf. 

His tongue lolled out of his mouth, but the little guy was dangling off like it was his fucking job to do so. “Hwhuh thuh hull ith thith????” 

 It didn’t take long at all for things to descend into chaos. Ariana in a panic grabbed the steak knife on the table. They were close in size to the little mime creatures her Juniper had come across with the soccer balls. Sure, the knife she used on those had been nicer, but she wasn’t about to dig through her backpack for one of her iron knives. Not when one of them was scurrying across the table toward Ulfric. 

She plunged her knife down and ended up missing the mime entirely. The force she’d put into it still left the table damaged. Shit. She’d have to offer to fix that. She tried to swear out loud, but nothing came out. Great. She didn’t even notice another one emerging from the pudding until it nipped her hand. “Hey,” she barely croaked out before flinging it off her hand. This time, she grabbed her knife and didn’t miss. Where the small monster once was there was now a familiar pile of back goo that smelled vaguely of pastries. 

With the one directly in front of her taken care of, she lunged across the table to grab one of the other two. Of course, that only led to her slipping in the beans and missing yet again. 

 Ulfric J Vinterson had been in many many bar brawls. A chaotic heat fuels a fire that spreads from one to another as the fight escalates. Fists, feet, glasses, bottles. All ammo. All allowed. The bartender is the conductor of the blood orchestra. The only one able to start and stop the tempo. Beautiful in it’s madness, it’s simple complexity. 

This was different. The stage was not set, there were no vapid fuckboys trying to get more than they deserve, no drunken asshole bothering everyone’s favorite drink slinger. It was a threat. A tiny, weirdly shaped and uniquely unfun threat. 

The hairs on the back of his neck bristled and it took more effort to keep the wolf at bay than to actually remove the little creature. He could not shift, not here. There’d be a lot more blood than just the drips his tongue let go of if that were to happen. He grabbed the mime in his hand, and squished it until the weird pudding seeped through his fingers. 

Good. They can at least be stopped. Ulf steadied himself with a breath. Calm. Gotta stay calm. In a voice quite out of place for the tone of what was going on, the older gentleman asked “Ariana. How. Do. I. Kill. Them.” 

 Ariana shook some of the beans off her arm and let out a deep breath. Was a nice and relaxed breakfast to catch up with Ulfric too much to ask for? The last mime creature was scurrying around the table and she realized she dropped her knife in the process of lunging across the table. Thankfully, the one immediately on Ulf was now crushed and melting into that familiar pile of goo. That left one more and her in a really inopportune position for attack. 

Ulf was asking her how to kill them and as she tried to speak, there was only silence. She wanted to rip that shifty little mime thing in half, but it was now closer to Ulf. Her eyes landed on the knife and she pointed to it urgently. She hoped that was good enough of an answer as she tried to get off the table without landing in even more food. 

 His brow twitched, sensing something was off. Couldn’t she speak? Fuck these little things. Fortunately, it seemed that crushing them was killing them. Good. Ulf huffed again, bringing his already gooey fist down onto the table with a satisfying splat. Like ending an oversized fly. Very oversized. Gross. 

Little strands of ginger hair fell from his normally decently neat bun as he whipped his head around. Blue/green eyes scanning the rest of the room for any other signs of danger. 

“Are you okay little pup?” He barked it almost like an order. She better be okay, or he was going to set fire to a lot of little goopy things tonight. 

 While still on edge, Ariana felt relief flood over her as Ulf smashed the last of the small mimes. It was more and more apparent that nothing in this town was sacred. Not even the food chain. She settled back into her seat looking at the mess in front of them. The table was covered in black goo and food was scattered everywhere. The eggs seemed to be disintegrating into the sauce. Not promising. She looked back to Ulf and it seemed minus the initial bite, they hadn’t gotten him too badly. 

“I’m okay. Are you?” she barely managed to whisper though as she looked down at her hands, she swore they looked vaguely striped. That wasn’t promising, but there had to be a fix for it, right? Sammy had eaten the mime food for a while and eventually seemed normal again. Well, as normal as a spazzy guy promised bound to a murdering bitch of a fae could be, but still. She pointed toward the door as she still struggled to speak and croaked, “Let’s go… anywhere else.” 

 “We’ll get your voice fully back first, then you can tell me all about these little devils.” He placed a few large bills down at the bar, whispered a small ‘sorry’ and looked about as apologetic as he could. Wouldn’t be the first time things have gone wrong here. Wouldn’t be the first time Ulf was at the center of it. But for now, quiet. “We can either go to the shop or my cabin but I need to get rid of some energy quick.” he shot her a look as he placed a hand on her back, ushering her out the door and into the night. Adrenaline was a dangerous drug to a beserker. Get that excess energy out in human form, or pay for it with a night of rampage. 

“I’ll cook us something to eat once we figure that out.” 

[tintentrinkerin]

Innocence Lost

Parte One of the Series ‘Hedgehog Dilemma’

Rating: Mature Pairings: Dean/Castiel, Sam/Jack eventually Tags: Dysfunctional Relationships, Virginity, Dating Apps, Sexting Mention, Teen Rebellion, Attempted Noncon, First Kiss, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse, Dean has issues, short Jack/OFC, Date Rape Drugs/Roofies, Angelic Powers, Alternative Canon, Canon Bending Summary: Jack is curious about love and sex but none of his foster fathers are helping. Created for @winklinebingo Squares filled: Virginity, Teen Rebellion, Sexting, Dating Apps ~Inspired by Gods and Monsters by Lana Del Rey, but in the version of AESTHETIC PERFECTION~ Seriously, listen to it. It’s amazing.  Word count: 15.6k Read under the cut or on AO3

I Was An Angel

She’s a pretty girl. She really is.

Long curly, glossy hair and she always smells like flowers. Or cherries. Sometimes bubblegum. Jack is very sensitive to sweet smells and tastes and this girl is just a bouquet of the sugary and most flowery things. He likes smelling her and he likes her voice, it always sounds like she’s singing or telling a fairytale. She even has a princess name: Aurora.

Her eyes remind him of Castiel, intense blue with yellow speckles. Jack has read some love poems before, by Shakespeare and Wilde and Rilke and he thought of this girl when he read them. She is love poem perfect.

But, look. Thing is, yes she’s cute, she’s stunning, she’s like a spring breeze and a lot of boys would probably sacrifice a hand to be with her. And Jack is her boyfriend. For about two weeks now.

Jack has no idea how to do this whole relationship thing. He met her when he was about to go buy some bread and pie. He had gone out with his pajama shorts still on and he didn’t even notice. Aurora was behind him in line and when they both were done buying their groceries, she stopped him and whispered in his ear, “You’re still wearing your pajamas!”

The whole which-clothes-when issue was still new to him, that’s why he messed up. And he apologized to her, but she only laughed. And her laughter made him feel better. She made him feel better all around.

Jack didn’t know much of the world. Of course, he already knew a lot. He knew about hunting and friendships, about family and good and evil. He had experienced a lot already.

In theory, he knew about love. He asked Dean about love and sex. The answers haven’t been all too satisfying and there was no intrinsic feeling, no urge for Jack to go out there and find love. Or sex. He’s found Aurora now, that sweet girl, that perfect girl. She liked him a lot, he knew it. Two weeks are enough to fall in love, it seems.

Jack isn’t in love. He knows it. Love feels different. Dean and Castiel both have described for him what love feels like. Their wording has been totally different but it was clear they mean the same thing. And they love each other, despite their differing descriptions.

Why is he with her then?, he asks himself a lot. Because she is nice? She is pretty? She makes him smile? She laughs with him, not at him.

To her, Jack is just a quirky shy boy. He’s not the Spawn of Satan, or a Nephilim, or a Time Bomb. He’s not a tool. Not a weapon. Not an abomination.

He’s just that kid living with these three middle aged weirdos who live in a bunker outside of Lebanon. She never judges.

What is love then?

Jack has an answer to that. He feels butterflies in his stomach, but it took him a while to understand it was a figure of speech. There were no actual butterflies in his stomach. But it was a tingling, a pull, heart pounding in his chest. Sweating. Shaking. Becoming super dumb all of a sudden, because Jack would confuse words, form abstruse sentences and just completely messes it up. He feels all that. He has dreams about this person and his underwear is wet the next morning. He had googled it and it seems to be a normal thing to happen to boys. But he feels embarrassed every time and hates it when someone else does the laundry. He doesn’t want other people to touch his dirty laundry. He also daydreams about kisses, and hugs, and heavy breathing, of noises that sound like Jack’s in pain, but he clearly isn’t.

Sometimes he would stare at the wall for solid minutes before he snaps out of daydreaming or someone catches his attention. Either by door slamming, “Kid, you there?” or - what Dean likes to do - throwing chocolate bars at him. Jack has angel reflexes, nothing ever hits him. Dean knows it.

Jack also has been exposed to “adult magazines” already. Dean seems to hide his magazines all over the bunker and it was just a matter of time til Jack found one and took a close, very close look. He was confused about the nudity first, he was told nudity is for showers, bedrooms and birth apparently. He’s been born naked and Sam told him, babies were born naked. And people got naked when they ‘made love’ but that was something Sam didn’t talk about. Jack had asked, but Sam denied telling him how one ‘makes’ love.

The nudity wasn’t the only thing Jack was astounded about. What these people did looked very, very peculiar. And Jack put the magazine back, when his body from belly button down felt tingly, hot and somehow itchy. Even his ‘down there’ started growing. It got hard. It confused him for a while but when his crotch grew soft, he felt relieved and never looked at something like this again.

Later he found out there was a way to make it go soft ‘down there’ again. He just needs to touch himself and what happens then is bombastic. And messy.

This feeling, love. Was he ‘making’ it? But according to Sam two people were needed to make love together. Feeling it all by his own couldn’t be the same then. Jack was confused.

To add to his confusion, when he was at a case with Dean, Dean had talked about courting and ‘the sex’ and Dean has made fun of him when he came home two weeks ago and announced he had a girlfried.

“Which base? First? Second?”

Sam gave Dean a scowl and a slight punch against the chest.

“Don’t listen to him, Jack. We’re happy for you.”

When he was in his room at night, he barely slept. As a half angel he didn’t need as much sleep as a human. And he knew that Castiel never sleeps. Sometimes they met in the library to talk and play chess or Go. On some other nights when Castiel wasn’t in the bunker or with Dean, Jack would just read whatever came in handy. They had a large library, but Jack was a fast reader and soon he had to download books to his eReader that Sam gave him for his first birthday. But also, this tiny piece of electronics didn’t have enough capacity to download all the books Jack would read in a week, that’s why he asked Sam for a new microSD card for his smartphone. Sam didn’t say no to Jack very often. Jack read Victor Hugo and Jean-Paul Sartre, also Marcel Proust and he had a great time reading Finnegans Wake and Ulysses. He wished James Joyce was still alive, because Jack wanted to tell him what a great and funny piece of literature he had written.

He asked Sam to summon James Joyce.

Sam thought he was messing with him, then said ‘no’.

Jack doesn’t like it when people tell him ‘no’ and that makes it even harder now for him to say no to Aurora.

It’s their second week and she’s so in love with him. Well, that's what she tells Jack. And he likes her pink lips, they look like flower petals and he wonders how they feel.

Exactly what Aurora wants him to do, outside the waffle’s place. She wants to kiss him and she looks pretty, her closed eyes, a tiny raindrop caught in her long eyelashes and she smells of vanilla and there’s still powdered sugar on her chin.

Jack backs away. Her pouty lips look nice and he wants to feel them. With his finger.

When she realizes Jack isn’t leaning in to kiss her, she opens her eyes. She looks hurt.

“Did I do something wrong?”, she asks.

Jack feels incredibly bad about the situation and he doesn’t even know what to say. He can't explain why shies away from a kiss.

He hasn’t been kissed ever before. And he thinks of someone else when he closes his eyes at night, hand under the cover, rubbing himself through the fabric of his pajamas.

“I’m sorry, I…I have never kissed someone before, I’m…I’m nervous.”

That isn't a lie, he tells himself. It’s not a lie. Lying is bad.

“Oh”, she mouths. A perfect O shape with her lips.

“Are you mad at me, Aurora?”, he asks, feeling very bad and guilty.

Jack hates disappointing people and he avoids it at every cost. Usually. But he can’t kiss her, it wouldn’t feel good. He knows, deep down it won’t feel good at all. It won’t be catastrophic, but kissing someone he doesn't like that way is wrong. Sam told him he shouldn’t be physical with people he doesn’t know well. Sam told him he should be physical with someone he really really likes and that more than just as a friend.

Aurora feels like someone more than a friend, but there’s no nocturnal pining for her. That’s for someone else. That’s why he has to go home now, before he makes it even worse with Aurora.

“No, Jack, it’s okay, I didn’t know…I thought…I mean you said you’re 21, I kinda just thought you already have…you know, kissed someone. Or even more.”

Jack raises an eyebrow.

“Even more?”

Aurora hides in her pastel pink scarf.

“Yes, sex, you know?”

With a sigh, Jack looks away and he can feel his face start burning. He has no idea how to have sex, he doesn’t even know exactly what it should be. It was a part of relationships, like Dean and Castiel’s but…all Jack can think about in regards of ‘making love’ and kissing and sex was…Sam.

“I’m not experienced”, he replies, slightly trembling. “I never did it.”

-

Later in the bunker, Jack is sleepless. He would like to sleep this time, because he feels exhausted and hurt. There’s something Aurora said. She said, if he kept people at distance he would never experience love and sex. Even a kiss was a problem already. This view on things was very weird to him. He doesn’t have a problem with kissing or finding out what love is. He just doesn’t want to kiss her. It feels wrong.

She didn’t text him since they departed on unknown terms.

And another thing creeps in his mind. Maybe the problem is that he doesn’t just not like Aurora, maybe he doesn’t like girls at all? And Sam is a man. Maybe he likes men, like Dean does? Dean often talked about women, he seems to like both. Men and women. And Castiel doesn’t even raise a brow when Dean talks about ‘casual sexual encounters’ how Castiel calls them. It’s still unknown territory for Jack.

There are people who like girls, there are people who like men and people who like both…and what if their body doesn’t matter at all?

Jack doesn’t know where the difference should be, except that a man looks different from a woman.

The whole sex thing is driving him up the walls.

He gets up, puts his slippers on and goes to the library. Dean is there, a bottle of whisky in front of him. He doesn’t look deadly drunk, but drunk enough. Sometimes Jack is afraid of Dean when he had too much of this stuff. He can be very mean, aggressive and violent.

Jack braces himself and joins him at the table. Dean looks up. His green eyes are glassy and his face is red.

“Can’t sleep, kiddo?”, he asks, wrapping his gown tighter.

Jack nods.

“No. I was naughty. And now I’m upset.”

Dean’s head jerks up, now Jack has his full attention. The smirk gives it away, Dean will make fun of him for sure.

“Naughty? As in, you finally did sweet lovin’ to her or?”

Jack shakes his eyes, frowning.

“Now, she wanted to kiss me but I didn’t want to.”

He sighs, sinks back in the chair, looking at the ceiling. There’s silence, Dean just chugs down the rest of the whisky, but he has another already on hand and opens it.

“Need a sip?”

His first instinct is to say ‘no’, but then he agrees and takes a drink directly from the bottle. Whiskey tastes like paste. He hates alcohol and it doesn’t make him drunk. He could drink ten of these bottles and still wouldn't feel a little thing. He knew that Cas also could drink immense amounts and he never feels even dizzy.

“How do I know if I’m gay?”, he asks and avoids eye contact.

Dean bursts out in laughter. It takes a while for him to calm down again. Jack feels very embarrassed.

“I shouldn’t have asked”, he murmurs and attempts to get up again but Dean stops him.

“Ey sorry. I’ll give you some advice okay? You will know when a man or a woman drives you crazy. Just, I don’t know. Try it. Get Grindr or whatever, chat with some guys, meet up. And try it.”

Dean’s eyes are really teary now. That was maybe a little too much.

“Are you okay, Dean?”

“Ya, ‘m fine. No worries.”

Dean is not okay, but Jack has learned his lesson. Dean will always say it’s okay, there’s no problem, I’m fine.

Sam is a lot different from him. He’s strong and calm, his hands are so big and his broad shoulders would be perfect to lean on.

Dean is different. Never at peace, restless. Always on the run from whatever is going on in his head.

“Is Sam…is Sam gay?”

Jack is shocked by his own words. Dean freezes. And then slowly, very slowly turns to Jack. There’s nothing friendly in his face, it’s a grimace.

“No, he’s not, Jack. Never was. Never will be.”

His heart feels like it’s sinking down to Jack’s groin. It hurts. He gets up.

“I should go to bed. Good night.”

“Sleep tight.”

Tonight Jack cries, hugging his moose plush toy.

*

“Grindr or whatever.”

“Chat with some guys, meet up. And try it.”

Dean’s statements from that night stick with the poor innocent boy. He rolls these thoughts in his head and they roll from one corner to the other, like marbles. He also dips his tongue in them, tastes them. Makes them slide from his teeth down to his throat. But he never swallows them.

Sam is not gay.

“Never was. Never will be.”

Sam doesn't like men. He doesn’t like boys. And Jack is a boy. Does that mean he has to give up on what he feels? But, what if Jack isn't gay himself? He has no experience. Not with girls, not with boys. He only knows it feels wrong to kiss Aurora. She is one girl of billions. And Sam is just one man of billions.

Maybe, even when Sam is not interested in men, Jack is an exception. He is half angel!

Grindr. Or whatever.

What is Grindr?

Jack didn’t eat this morning, because he  heard Sam and Castiel fighting over something Jack didn’t want to be part of. It was enough to see Dean drink so much, but he wouldn’t participate in any of the tensions that his behaviour caused lately. Dean had told him, he would kill him. Well, maybe he won’t do that anymore now since Jack helped to save the world more than once. He said Jack isn’t family. Maybe he still thinks so. It hurts Jack, because he loves his three father figures and he looks up to Dean. He’s a strong hunter, a leader. He’s the muscle of this team. Sam is the brain. Castiel somehow is the heart. But what is Jack? Always willing to sacrifice himself to make Sam and Cas and Dean love him.

These thoughts are dark enough and going out there and witnessing another fight wasn’t Jack’s favourite start of the day.

He rather hid in his room after showering.

Dean has offered him some breadcrumbs like the ones Hansel and Gretel left to find their way back home from the forest. But he needs to go the other way. He doesn’t need to find his way out of the forest and away from the witch’s gingerbread house. Jack wants to find exactly that.

Wrapped in his towel he sits down on his bed, takes his smartphone and opens a search engine tab. Aurora has texted him but he doesn’t want to reply right now. He feels bad about how he let her down and didn’t kiss her.

He isn’t sure what he is supposed to search for, he just types grinder. Several online shops appear. Obviously it’s a name for a tool to crush herbs and marijuana. Did Dean mean that? He should grind some herbs and perform a ritual? Nah. Dean was drunk, he surely didn’t think that far.

Next step is to look it up in an online dictionary.

It says a lot of things about molars (pressing together with a rotating motion), grinding as a verb to pulverize material, and then something caught Jack’s eye.

to rotate the hips in an erotic manner

Now, that makes sense in a way, that makes Jack blush deeply. It’s a motion he sometimes imagines when he’s hot and aroused. When his body works up, his cheeks hot and his spine tingly. He imagines sitting on Sam’s lap, both kissing and sighing, and then Jack would...grind.

Jack has to put the phone away for a second. Thinking of this clouds his judgement.

After a minute of breathing in and out and trying to tone these thrilling images down Jack is ready to now search for: “Grinder gay men”

The search engine reports “No results for Grinder gay men found. Do you want to search for Grindr gay men instead?”

Jack is irritated about the missing “e”, that’s a typo, right? but he presses the tab ‘yes’.

What pops up now is an article from an online encyclopedia and describes Grindr as a mobile app for gay, bisexual and trans men to chat and meet other men of the same interests.

The second article is a link to his smartphone’s app store, which Jack opens.

Dean wanted him to find this app. To meet other men. Try it. Now it all makes sense! Jack is happy about this. Dean wouldn’t be so mean to him after all!

He downloads the app Grindr - Chats, Meeting and Dating for Gays . The app’s icon is black with an orange mask in the middle. Looks plain but also makes Jack curious.

To use the app Jack has to sign up. Since Castiel once has given him permission to sign up in a social network he just thinks it applies to this stuff too.

There’s a lot of text about privacy, which he just accepts to go further. He signs up with his e-mail address and password. He struggles with his birthday. He tells people he’s 21 years old, which makes his birthday for official purposes May 18th somewhere in the nineties. He has to do some funny verification procedures, the last one is verifying his phone number.

The app wants him to upload a picture of him, and because he doesn’t have any he just takes one. He doesn’t mind that he's naked except the tiny towel around his waist. The first step is easy. He’s Jack, 21 and looking for Chat, Dates, Meeting up and Friends. He wonders why there’s two options for meeting people. One sounds like it’s for impatient people and the other one is for people who are patient. Like Sam. Sam would be patient.

He’s now transferred to the next page. And he now sees a lot of other people using the app it seems. A lot of very muscly men are there. They all like to show their body, but Jack doesn’t really like this. Their nudity even makes him feel icky.

Some men have nicknames like “BigTrunkBear” or “LikeItRough” or “Creamlover”. Jack’s confusion is growing.

There’s also a lot of men having no photo at all, but how should Jack know how they look? Also the photos of legs irritate him.

The app notifies him he needs to complete his profile. There’s some multiple choice questions but also dropdown menus and input masks.

It’s easy for him to type a few sentences about himself.

Jack is as blunt as it could be.

“Hello, I’m Jack. I like nougat, my fathers and shadow show.”

Age and height are no problem, but he has to google what ethnicity is. His skin is pale, then he must be white.

Every question after that is confusing to him. He doesn’t know what “position” (Top, Bottom, Vers) he is, is he a “Bear” or a “Twink”? What is all that?

The confusion grows and Jack closes the app for a moment. He thinks about googling all of it. But then his phone chimes and there’s a text message in the app from a man with the nickname “OralPlesaurer”. Which is funny to Jack, because it’s a typo. And no one’s name in real life is OralPleasurer or Creamlover.

Cream is cool, yeah, whipped on pie. But Jack’s not a lover in the sense of the word. Weird people there.

Jack opens the message, it’s a simple “Hi”.

Jack sends a "Hi" back.

What happens then can only be described as…unexpected.

-

Shinin’ Like A Fiery Beacon

Sam has no suspicions what’s happening in Jack’s mind, but he notices he’s shy around him. Maybe even a little uneasy. The last months have been rough and Sam knows Jack has gone through a lot. Mostly he tried to gain Dean’s trust again, make him and Dean forgive him. But Sam was never mad at him. He couldn’t.

There is a lot in Jack that reminds Sam of himself and that makes it hard for him to look at the situation objectively.

Jack was destined to be a weapon for his father, Lucifer. And Lucifer was a special kind of topic for Sam and it has granted him a very twisted satisfaction that Jack helped to kill him off permanently. Three times. Jack’s struggle with his heritage was something Sam totally understands and yes, of course he also understands why Dean is angry and hurt.

But why does he treat Jack like that still?

Why is he so determined to stick to his anger and his grief? It doesn't even seem like he is trying to get over it, to forgive Jack.

There’s something else on Dean’s noggin’ and Sam knows it, even when Dean doesn’t talk about it. The empty whisky bottles, all the sex with nameless strangers and his risky behavior aren’t new to Sam or Cas.

But that Cas puts up with Dean’s bullshit is astounding. He wouldn’t let that happen. And Sam fights a lot. With Cas. About Dean. With Dean. About Dean. And Cas. And how he treats Jack.

Lately Sam noticed a feeling deep inside of him, flourished for Jack. A gentle, fragile feeling and he didn’t dare to touch this topic. Not even when he was in his room alone at night, rolling around in his bed. It’s a special kind of affection mixed with a frustrating amount of attraction. Sam hates himself for feeling like this. It’s just not right. Jack is nothing like his father, yes, but that's also not the problem. He’s barely 4 years old by now, he came into the world in the body of a young man but little knowledge and childlike naivety. How could Sam take advantage of that? Jack clearly wants to gain his friendship and maybe a platonic kind of love. It’s wrong of Sam to wish for more than that. And that’s why he keeps it hidden and rather tumbles into new fights about Dean’s alcoholism.

It’s his turn to do the cooking today while Cas and Dean are on an investigation and he’s alone with Jack. Sam notices once more that Jack hides in his room a lot, he won’t come out unless Sam calls him to lunch or dinner. Mostly he skips breakfast. So far there’s nothing weird about it, maybe Jack needs some privacy. Sam thinks of his youth with Dean and Dad on the road and how he hated to never be alone.

Taking ‘long showers’ was always suspicious and a lot of things he and Dean did were blurry to him now in his late thirties. When Sam fled to Stanford and finally had a room for himself, actual locks and actual keys for them, doors he could close...it was better than heaven. That’s when he finally could explore what it meant to be a teenager and deal with the rampaging hormones on his own. Also, he could finally be away from Dean’s hypersexual behavior. Maybe Dean thought it was cool to be like this in front of Sam, especially when they as brothers became a little too close and it was his way to dodge the bullet.

In the light of his own memories Sam knows what is happening.

And he’s sure Jack’s kind of blossoming at the moment.

With his super cute and lovely girlfriend, Aurora.

Sam hasn’t met her yet and he has no idea how to react. Of course, he’d be nice and polite and make her dinner and ask her all the nice and polite things for small talk and tell Jack how lucky he is but there’s something primal inside of Sam. Jealousy. He hates being jealous and he has no right to feel that way. One more reason to just let this blooming feeling die and not feed it with anything.

Not with his weird daydreams or the thoughts at night that keep him bothered and not the moments he’s alone in the shower, rubbing one out. Afterwards he’s just more frustrated, instead of feeling any relief.

Sam needs another cup of coffee, a strong one. Before Cas and Dean went out, there had been another argument. It was hurtful. Things were said and then taken back, Cas’ puppy eyes all over, Sam's yelling and Dean almost breaking shit. Like always. Maybe after this one they’d calm down, all of them. Dean and Cas were alone for a while, maybe doing some reconciliation. Sam would be happy for them if they could get over whatever was going on.

In the meantime Sam is just happy with cooking, doing laundry, generally cleaning the bunker and reading. It may sound boring for some people but for him it’s heaven. They’ve had too much going on for fifteen years, some peace is pretty nice and just what he needs right now.

Jack’s an active reader too and he reads the good stuff. Sam educates him about most things he’s comfortable with and he knows he should’ve given the kid ‘The Talk’ already, but Dean kinda started it and Sam is a bit of a chicken regarding this topic. Sex isn’t his favorite thing to talk about. And so far, there seems no reason to rush it, even though Aurora is there. Dean told him about a week ago that Jack has refused to kiss her and if there wasn't anything else going on Sam was unaware of, that was the sexiest thing Jack had achieved so far. A kiss from a girl.

Sam burns his tongue on his coffee because he chugged it too quickly. With a curse he bangs the mug on the table and that’s when Jack walks in. Lately he abandoned his adorable pajamas and wears some of Dean’s and Sam’s old shirts and flannels he grabbed out of the sacks for the clothing drive. That looks wrong in all the right ways, but Sam can’t really say anything about it without letting his guard down. And he won’t let his guard down. Never.

“Morning, Jack”, Sam utters, trying to cool his tongue with a sip of water. “I didn’t expect you to be up that early. Want some porridge?”

Jack looks up at him and there’s still a sleepy veil surrounding him. He seems to be just woken up. He is wearing one of Sam's old shirts, which is too big for him and the sight makes Sam gulp. A little.

“Yes, sounds good.” Jack sits down and yawns in his hand while Sam gets him some porridge and a cup of coffee with a lot of milk in it.

Now Sam notices that Jack carries his smartphone with him, which is unusual. Jack mostly uses it for chatting with Aurora or doing some research but he never carries it around like some other teenagers do who are maybe a little too attached to it. It vibrates a couple of times before Jack takes it and mutes all notifications. He looks…guilty?

“What is it? Is Aurora chatty today?”

Jack looks up and puts a spoonful of porridge in his mouth, shaking his head.

“No, it’s um…it’s nothing.”

Sam is suspicious. Does Jack talk to someone else? Would he need to give him a talk about keeping options open? He doesn’t want to approach the issue by himself, so he rather sits down and eats his breakfast too. Jack seems a bit nervous, always throwing stolen glances at his phone and the screen lights up every couple of minutes. Jack doesn’t reply to any of these messages, he just turns the phone screen down on the table and keeps eating.

The day goes by, Sam just gets cosy in the library. Dean messaged him it’s a vampire nest and he and Cas will hunt them down tonight. Which is a good sign. Sam also told him to take some time off after it, maybe go to Vegas. Dean hasn’t replied yet. It’s a bit selfish but Sam likes the quiet peace in the bunker. They have thought of moving out a couple times but none of them could really think of somewhere else to live. They were hunters after all and so far they didn’t think about retiring. The bunker was still the core of their family. A home. Dean’s and Sam’s home after years on the road or couchsurfing at Bobby’s, the only home Jack knows. Sam even started to make his room look like an actual bedroom. It had been bare and clinical for years when he still couldn’t wrap his mind around the idea to settle down with Dean. He thought the bunker would maybe one day be taken away from them again.

His phone chimes and Dean promises to be back in a couple of days. Couple of days. That could mean they’re back tomorrow or in a week. But he’s happy that Dean takes the chance anyway.

Sam is totally sucked in by the book he’s reading and he jolts when Jack appears in the library, a hot chocolate in his small hand and a slight disturbed look on his face.

“Sorry, you scared me a little bit”, Sam says and feels bad about it.

Jack only smiles and takes a seat across the table.

“It’s okay. Sam, can I ask you some questions? I wanted to ask Dean, but he’s away and not replying to my texts…”

“Of course. What’s the matter?”

Jack looks up to him, big blue eyes piercings through Sam’s skin. He hates when that happens, Jack has an unsettling effect on Sam. He’s not used to feel like this.

He squirms in his chair now and then with a sigh, Jack takes the phone out of his pocket to place it in front of him. Okay, so there is something up with the phone. Sam was right about it.

“How do I know if I’m gay?”

Jack doesn’t look at Sam, he stares at his phone. Sam can see his ears getting red and Jack just blushes so easily… and also very intense. His face is burning red, Sam would bet his ass on it.

The question itself is nothing Sam would classify as weird. It’s obvious Jack’s going through a phase of finding himself. Contemplating his own sexuality is part of it. Thing is, it makes Sam slightly uncomfortable talking about it. It’s partly because Jack is so young, the other part is that he’s attracted to Jack. Sam didn’t feel attracted to anyone for years and he hates labels. He loves who he loves and he wants to sleep with people he has a strong connection to. And a life as a hunter doesn’t provide much space for a romance to unravel.

How is he supposed to talk about it when he has no idea where to start?

He isn’t a good measure after all.

“Oh, that is as simple as it is complicated”, Sam starts, folding his hands on the table. He takes deep breaths, before he starts to speak.

“First of all, I can only speak for myself and I don’t know if I'm for much use. In regards of sex you really better ask Dean, but since he doesn’t seem to look at his phone at the moment, I will try.”

He has already told Jack about making love instead of sex and Sam has thought about his choice of words and regretted some of it. It sounded way too much like purity culture and Jack shouldn’t think sex was bad. Sexual attraction isn’t bad at all.

It just doesn’t fit for Sam.

“Does your question have anything to do with how you feel about Aurora?”

Jack nods. Slowly, a little unsure.

“She wanted to kiss me but I didn’t want to. It didn’t feel right. And I wondered if it has something to do with- I mean- maybe I like boys and not girls?”

His face is so red by now, Sam could swear he feels the heat radiating from the boy.

“There could be several reasons for it, it doesn’t mean you’re gay. Most people kiss and make love because they’re attracted to each other. Attraction is a very tricky feeling. It feels like butterflies in your stomach, heart pounding, you maybe even feel dizzy. That’s when most people say they’re in love. Do you feel that when you are with Aurora?”

Jack shakes his head.

“No.”

“Then maybe, you’re just not in love with her, and that's okay. You will fall in love with another girl in the future. Or you fall in love with a boy, which is also totally fine. Also you can feel attraction to people who don’t fit in the girl/boy categories. It’s all just about how you feel around them and if you want to kiss them. Or go further.”

Sam rubs his hands. He really feels uncomfortable educating Jack about love and sex. Now would be a great moment for Dean to show up and take this conversation.

“You know, Dean likes both. Cas is an angel, I don’t think a concept of gender applies to him at all.”

This is when Jack looks up.

“And what do you like?”

Sam now leans back in his chair, his heart aches a little and he feels heat creeping up his neck. He hates that question.

“Well, Jack…” he sighs heavily, “I don’t care much about gender too. I’m not gay, but I’m not straight either. And I’m also not bisexual, like Dean. It’s hard to say. When I like someone, I like them and I don’t see gender. Boy, girl, queer, it doesn’t matter.”

Now Jack takes a long, careful sip of his hot chocolate. His smartphone chimes again and Sam just has to ask.

“Do you think you’re gay, because you didn’t want to kiss Aurora or is there something else on your mind?”

He knows it’s not his business but he also takes it very seriously to be a good role model, be a father figure to Jack. When Jack needs help, Sam will provide it. Same goes for Cas and sometimes even Dean has his bright moments of fatherhood.

It’s obvious Jack doesn’t want to answer right away, he looks like he is tasting words in his mouth, rolling them over his tongue, putting them in his cheeks for a moment, before he says something that surprises Sam.

“There is something else. A man asked me out, but he asked me things I don’t understand.”

Sam stiffens.

“A man? How old?”

Jack shrugs.

“Couple years older than Dean maybe?”

Now Sam leans forward, skeptical and on alert.

“What do you mean, he asked you out? Where? How?”

Jack now shows Sam his phone and Sam recognizes the push messages. The icon is black with an orange mask in the center.

Oh no, that’s not good. Like absolutely bad.

“On this app. He lives close and he asked me if I like bareback? But I don’t know what he means with that. Does he want to go horse riding with me on a date?”

Sam can’t help but laugh. It’s a diminished, unhappy sound.

“No, he doesn’t want to go horse riding with you, Jack. He wants to have unprotected sex with you.”

You Got That Medicine I Need

“What do you mean by… that he wants to have unprotected sex with me?”,  Jack asks.

He was utterly confused about this statement and how Sam came to that conclusion. There’s so much he doesn’t know and so many things he got wrong. Sam also doesn’t help much with his shooting questions and… things like this. Jack furrows his eyebrows, tilting his head.

“You have to delete this app and stop talking to these creeps.”

Sam looks very upset and Jack doesn’t get why.

“Answer my question please, what is bareback then? Sam, why do you think he’s a creep? He seems actually nice, he says he likes my eyes and my lips, look!”

He shows his phone again to Sam and he just takes it. Then Sam gets up and starts fumbling on the screen, his eyes narrow. Jack knows this kind of facial expression, he usually sees it when Sam is upset with Dean. Should Jack maybe tell Sam it wasn’t his own idea to install the app? Would that help? Would he then be mad at Dean? But Jack doesn’t want that either, he wants Dean to like him.

“Jack, it’s gay slang. And this guy”, his voice rises in irritation and suppressed anger, “he looks fishy. Why the hell do you use these apps anyway? You’re with Aurora and… you have no idea about sex yet, casual dating shouldn’t be something you … you like. What is this all about? Jack?”

Jack feels like he’s shrinking to a tiny puddle of shame under Sam’s piercing eyes, his sharp voice and how his chest heaves. He’s also annoyed at the same time. It’s his fathers’ fault he knows so little about sex and how to court people, no one really feels responsible to help him with it, except Dean! Jack looks up to Sam, even when it hurts right now, he hates it so much when Sam is angry. And he feels like he was a dog that took a shit on the carpet and now has to feel utterly guilty for… having essential needs?

That it’s Sam who tells him to stop makes it even worse. He’s trying to figure out what he feels for Sam, it’s hard enough to see him all day and feel this tickly, hot and cold feeling all over his body and only be able to release it in the silent darkness of his room, quietly moaning and thinking of Sam kissing his tummy and thighs… and even more. Jack feels all the heat building up inside him, it makes his skin crawl and his eyes tear up.

“I want to know if I’m gay or not!”, he says, way louder than intended. “And Dean said it’s a good idea to meet up with men and find out what I like!”

Sam stiffens, chest heaving even harder when he drops his hands and bangs them on the table.

“Dean told you to install this app?”, he asks. Voice dangerously gentle.

“Yes.”

Jack crosses his arms, defensively.

And then Sam nudges the smartphone back to Jack. He looks so angry while appearing so calm, apart from his deep breathing. Jack can see the breath vibrate in Sam’s chest and he wishes so badly to lay his head there and hear Sam’s heartbeat, feel his pulse and how his chest moves while breathing.

Sam’s mouth is a firm little line before he speaks.

“I guess Dean didn’t think his advice through, Jack. This app and many others are made for casual sex and hook ups, and I wouldn’t let you meet any of these guys you’re talking too. You could get hurt”, he then combs through his long hair, fishing for words, “You know that there’s people out there who want harm. It’s too dangerous. Delete it.”

Jack doesn’t attempt to take the phone again, looking at Sam, angry himself.

“No. I need to find out who I am and you keep on handling me with kid gloves!”, he says, voice raised and aggressive.

This is when Sam slams the table with his fist. “It’s because you are a fucking kid and I don’t want you to be whoring around!”

Wow.

That feels like a punch in the guts. Jack knows what a whore is. He has googled it after Dean has told ‘whore stories’ at the dinner table when Sam was out with Cas once.

His eyes tear up heavily and there’s a choked sob before Jack grabs his phone and gets up.

“I’m not a whore, Sam. But good to know you think of me like this.”

Sam's frozen solid for a couple seconds, can’t act on anything but wants to. Jack fumbles on his phone with shaking hands and then shows Sam.

“See, app deleted. No ‘whoring around’ for me.”

And then Jack storms off. Sam calls out after him “Jack, I’m sorry, please come back!” But Jack doesn’t come back. He grabs his jacket and goes outside. He needs some time alone.

*

In the evening, alone in his room, Sam is extremely downhearted. He tried to talk to Jack later, when he came back into the bunker. He even came up to Sam himself to show him the app was still gone, but didn’t talk anymore. Of course Sam apologized every time they saw each other, but Jack didn’t react.

Damn, he has fucked up so hard this time. And he can’t even lie to himself saying it was just a stupid thing he said. That he didn’t think. Well, he really didn’t think at that moment. There was just … that moment, that hot red moment of possessiveness, of jealousy. And this fata morgana of pure, asexual Jack that Sam could protect and nuture, versus this dark fucked up desire to kiss him, ruin the literal angel. Be the one to show him love.

To show him how Sam could make him feel, make him come in thousands of ways. Sam’s so touch starved and drawn to Jack and he is so endlessly ashamed of it. It’s not right, he keeps telling himself. It’s wrong to feel attracted to a child. To the child of his rapist. Even Sam cries in bed sometimes, like today. He cries about his stupid words, about how he hurt Jack and how filthy he feels all the time in contrast to the pure and utter arousal picturing the nephil in his bed, sweat covered and hot and willing and moaning Sam’s name when he spills all over his firm stomach.

Fuck. Holy fuck . This is so bad.

*

Jack retreated in the forest for a while, listening to angry music on his phone, kicking sticks and stones around till he reached the pond where he just sat down, stared at the glistening surface for an hour or two. He cried a little, too. Sam’s words have hurt him incredibly. Sam is Jack’s role model and the person he wishes to be closest with. And that Sam, especially Sam implies Jack ‘whored’ was so excruciating, that his half human body even threw up the rest of dinner. With his knees pulled to his chest and his face buried in his eyes he cried and cried, before the childlike side in him started rebelling again. Sam has hurt him, but Jack still wants to know what’s wrong with him. Why he feels for Sam, and if it’s because he’s male… or because he’s Sam.

The feeling hurt even more now, it even hurts now when he’s in bed, staring at the ceiling, still listening to angry yelly music. His body is terribly worked up again, but now Jack reinstalls the app, his profile is still there. He doesn’t know what to do with the old guy who wanted to ‘bareback’ him but he had googled it while staring at the pond and Sam was indeed right. But this old sack wasn’t the only guy Jack was in touch with, there was also Hunter, 25, from Gilead, Kansas. Jack likes the name hunter, because him and his fathers are hunters and hunters are mostly good people. He also likes the name of the city where he’s from, Gilead. It refers to a mystical place in the Bible , which he read a couple times already, but also was the name of the USA in the novel The Handmaid’s Tale by Atwood, which he loved too. And Hunter is nice, very nice and when Sam demanded Jack to delete Grindr, Jack was afraid Hunter would be mad if he didn’t reply to his last message.

But of course Jack wants to reply to Hunter, and there’s two new messages from Hunter which he answers quickly. He gives Hunter his phone number and then decides to delete the app really, just in case Sam wants proof again. Which Jack would maybe deny next time, he is so sick of being treated like a child. Because he’s not. His body is fully developed, and he knows a lot about the world. He knows facts, but it’s hard to find out about all the social stuff. Jack feels alien most of the time, because he has intimidating powers and his angel self works different from his human self. He just has too little experience in human and social interaction and Sam even tries to take away the chances Jack could have to be better at being a human being, which is the side he picked long ago. He wants to be human. Normal. And he wants to be accepted, respected and loved. Not patronised and cared for like a baby. Of course, he knows. He’s defiant and petty but he’s tough and brave enough to learn more about the world and love.

Aurora isn’t forgotten, he feels bad when he thinks of her, but she also didn’t reply to his last message. Which makes it easier to attach to Hunter, who says in his profile he’s a “vers bottom” (and since no one seems to care about giving Jack a proper talk he googled it and now is indeed in the picture what that means), wants to find true love and relationships. His favourite movies are Star Wars and Lord of the Rings and he likes novels like Lord of the Flies and Fahrenheit 451. He sounds so intelligent and nice, Jack trusts him already after a few days of texting. He seemed able of critical thought and he liked books Jack also liked and they spent a day just talking about religious imagery in The Great Gatsby . But yeah, Jack was totally whoring around. Surely.

Tonight he’s too hurt to let his usual thoughts of Sam go too far, instead he opens his messenger app and he doesn’t have to wait very long after messaging Hunter to get a reply.

Jack smiles when Hunter asks if he is in bed already and what he’s thinking of. Jack texts back he thinks of a certain dark haired, brown eyed man he likes. Hunter looks a bit like Sam and Jack can lie to himself casually here. The texts turn hotter with every turn and Jack’s heart starts pacing, his hand sliding under the seam of his underwear while he reads Hunter’s latest message, describing how he would undress Jack, kiss him and let his hand wander where Jack wasn’t touched by anyone else than himself so far.

In the morning he feels way better. Hunter’s messages have given him some very nice moments of pleasure but he also feels a little guilty. He hasn’t replied to the hot messages because he’s a total newbie and doesn’t even know what he likes himself. When he told Hunter in the night he’s a virgin, Hunter was very nice and understanding and told Jack he doesn’t have to reply if he feels insecure.

This sort of validation is something Jack wants to have from Sam but after what Sam said and how deeply it impacted Jack’s trust in him, he tried to let go of this hope. Sam thinks he’s a child. Or a whore. Or both. Jack knows about Nabokov’s Lolita and wonders if Sam thinks he raised him to be seductive to old creeps like the bareback guy.

One way or the other, Jack is hurt and pissed off, but overall he feels better and steadier today, his ego is petted very thoroughly by Hunter. Maybe one day Jack won’t need Sam’s approval and affection anymore. Seems a nice thought today.

When Jack gets dressed he sneaks up to the kitchen and he can hear from across the floor already Sam is talking to someone. He’s loud, his voice full and usually Jack likes how deep, low and growly Sam can sound when he’s in some kind of situation he’s passionate about, no matter if positive or negative.

But this sounds like he’s yelling at Dean and that’s never good.

“Why the actual fuck did you tell Jack to install a gay hook up app, are you out of your rotten mind? He took your word for it and now I am the one who had to clean up this mess!... Yes, he used it and a guy he talked to wanted to meet up and bareback…. Jesus FUCKING Christ Dean that’s not funny-- stop fucking laughing! He could be hurt! You’re such an asshole. I wonder why you fucking hate the kid so much, after all he did for us!... No, I didn’t forget about mom, never will. But you know it wasn’t him. I don’t give a fuck about your feelings right now... Leave the child alone or I swear you’ll regret it!”

A long silence. Jack counts from 50 downwards and stops at 7, when Sam’s voice rises again.

“Yeah you better. Gimme Cas, I need a word with him.”

Jack has heard enough. “The kid”. “Clean up a mess”. “The child”.

Mary Winchester.

He’s suddenly not hungry anymore and retreats to his room, where his smartphone vibrates the moment he closes the door. It’s Hunter, of course.

Looking To Get Fucked Hard

It takes Jack a day and a half after the phone call to make the first move towards Sam and accepts his apology, which is very well-considered, diplomatic and remorseful. He still feels very hurt by Sam’s words and the fight over the phone with Dean also didn’t help him look over the fact that Sam has a certain edge in his voice when it comes down to explaining ‘adult stuff’ to Jack. Jack, who is naturally curious and eager, but also blunt and innocent, doesn’t quite understand what his problem is. When Jack hears Dean talk about sex with several people, sometimes at once, it doesn’t sound like something he feels ashamed of. He’s even proud of it.

But Sam is so much more secretive and retreats from any question Jack has from now on. Is sex something bad? And why does he think Jack is acting like a promiscuous person for talking with people online?

It takes another five days in which Jack secretly talks to Hunter over his messenger app and Jack avoids looking at his phone when Sam is around. He doesn’t want to get in another argument again but he also likes the way Hunter makes him feel. Even though Jack is a virgin and inexperienced, Hunter takes him seriously. He treats Jack like an actual adult, with adult needs and adult opinions and an adult body, that is longing for another human’s touch. Jack kind of came to the conclusion that being in love with Sam won’t go anywhere good, not after all the things Sam has said to him. And how he thinks of Jack. As a child, something he has to protect and nourish but for God’s sake don’t touch it.

Jack doesn’t want protection. He wants to be loved as a man, even though he’s barely a man now.

Sam’s apology doesn’t change his way of thinking about Jack.

Damn, why does he have to be in love with Sam, from all people? Maybe it would be even easier with being in love with Dean. Scruffy, grumpy, spiteful, asshole, loyal, troubled, vulnerable Dean?

Is that maybe any better?

But even Dean doesn’t take him seriously as someone who has needs. He gave Jack this damn idea about the app and he probably knew it would cause Jack trouble when Sam found out.

Over the next days Cas and Dean don’t show up and Sam is worried even when he tries to hide it behind research and angry texts and treating Jack even more than a kid. Makes him his favourite food and drinks, even lets him drink some beer.

It makes Jack feel even more like someone you need to treat like a timid fawn.

Does nobody see that Jack is no fawn anymore? That he’s ready to grow, that he has intimate, sexual urges. He is prospering for everyone to see, but Sam just squeezes his damn eyes shut and Dean makes fun of him.

And Castiel probably doesn’t even know what it all means because he’s a full grown celestial angel, or an ‘eldritch horror’ as Dean sometimes puts it.

Time to sow his wild oats.

After a week of absence it seems clear, Cas and Dean are either having a good time or they’re getting lost somewhere in a brothel or a casino or whatever humans do in Las Vegas. Sam doesn’t tell Jack where exactly they are, but Jack thinks they got somewhere to also let off some steam.

Jack decides to meet with Hunter, after they had some very thrilling conversations at night. It’s mostly that Jack still imagines Sam when he touches himself but Hunter is giving him a lot of things to think about. He doesn’t feel that naive and innocent anymore, now that someone tells him he’s hot, he’s cute, he’s desirable. He is equal.

No more thinking of ‘down there’s and that kissing is oh so sacred. It’s a change that would scare Jack if he wasn’t so eager to show off to Sam he was mature enough to be treated equally. Hunter presses the right buttons. And all of them at once.

Jack wants to know how it feels to kiss, to be touched in places, he even wants to touch someone else. And if he keeps telling himself it’s Sam, while he’s with Hunter, he might even enjoy it more. They look so much alike, or at least how Jack thinks Sam looked when he was way younger. Maybe Hunter’s smaller, and what Jack saw from his body wasn’t that defined and muscular, but he can dream. His imagination is going strong.

His hormones and his contact with another man who shows interest in him make Jack cocky.

They set the date already two days after the fight with Sam and today is the day. Sam and Jack still don’t spend much time together and in the morning Sam announced he will be doing some inventory in a room he was able to unlock with a smell Rowena left him. He told Jack about shelves full with old scripts and mason jars labelled with ‘icky stuff’ and he thinks that in no way the Man of Letters Cuthbert Sinclair would’ve left such a mess and vague labels. Icky could mean a lot.

Jack doesn’t mind and tells Sam he wants to read The Magic Mountain by Thomas Mann.

“That’s a piece of work, Jack”, Sam says, a little proud maybe. “I never made it through it.”

“Well I read some articles about it already and I’m very interested about the portrayal of eroticism, life and death.”

He can’t leave it. He has to tell Sam about the sex stuff he’s interested in. The protagonist of the novel is said to be bisexual and Jack would really like to read it.

But not today, he will drive to Gilead to meet Hunter, as soon as Sam will drown in his inventory.

“You also should focus on the motif of time and its correlation with life and death”, Sam says, ignoring the eroticism. He’s unapproachable with the issue at all. It drives Jack up the walls, since his hormones, hurt ego and the cockiness took over his thinking.

“Thrilling.”

Jack means it sarcastically and catches a glance from Sam that he can’t quite ignore. The tension between them grows weirder every day instead of resolving.

He gets up now, he needs to shower and get ready soon.

Jack doesn’t know why, but there pops up a thought in his head. About making love.

He wouldn’t do that today. In his nightly thoughts he still couldn’t wrap his head around the difference.

Of course he’d never admit it, but Jack still knows nothing about love but that he feels something for Sam that comes pretty close.

Sam knows something’s off. That something is still off. Jack is reserved, but sometimes also irritating. Passive aggressive. Mopey. Yes, of course, Sam has apologized as often and honestly as he could but nothing seemed to help Jack and him to find a common ground again. He understands Jack wants to be treated differently, like something he isn’t just yet in Sam’s eyes. It’s his need for being the guardian that doesn’t let him treat Jack like an adult. Let him drink whiskey, watch porn, have sex. The contradiction of his own sexual attraction to Jack and the need for control and guidance drives Sam up the walls too and he has no one he could talk to about it. Dean is distant in his own manner, he’s fled with Cas and after Sam had yelled at him over the phone about letting Jack use this sex app there’s radio silence. Just a quick heads up from Cas now and then. Sam feels like the trip for just the two of them isn’t helping the way he wished for.

This is why he needs to do the damn inventory. Keep himself busy. Think about something else than Jack being a little jerk all of a sudden, Dean’s whiskey consumption and Castiel’s helplessness. Is Castiel even helpless? Or does he just pretend he doesn’t see something is terribly off? Being alone with Jack makes it really rough. Either Jack’s too close, or he’s too reserved, there’s no balance at the moment, and in his mind, it’s also either Jack grinding on his lap or Jack, far away with Aurora or that nasty creep from the app.

Gladly he’s deleted it and they didn’t need to have a talk about it again. Sam would be furious if Jack lied to him. Furious, because he’s jealous, helpless and sexually gone rogue.

Why is it so wrong to feel this way?

In the storage room there’s utter chaos and Sam will probably spend two days in here. Today, he embraces chaos. Chaos is good, because he can break it down and bring it into an order. His order. His system. He even brought instrumental music to have something to drown his own dark, sorrowful and horny thoughts. It will get over soon. He won’t be crossed in love with Jack forever. He can push through this.

But does he really want to?

Sam is so busy with tidying up that weird room that he doesn’t notice anything else is going on. Jack can hear faint flute music across the halls when he sneaks around. He has put on his best shirt, ripped stone washed jeans and a leather jacket that Dean inherited to him. Involuntarily, because he actually wanted to throw it away and like some old shirts, Jack just picked it up and kept it.

He also did his hair the way Sam said once, it looks good on him. Then maybe Hunter would like it, too?

Jack takes one of the keys for the Volvo in which Sam had taught him to drive.

Ironic. Sam lets Jack drive, but God forbid he does other adult things!

With the key in his shaking, sweaty hands Jack sneaks off to the carpool garage. The Volvo is purple and has two scratches (long ones) from Jack’s driving lessons, but Jack owns the shame about it now. He unlocks it, gets inside and opens the navigation app on his phone. It says he will be on the road for around 90 minutes, which is okay. He has brought an audiobook, three bottles of water, some protein bars and a charger for his phone. Better to have a fully charged phone, Sam says. Not everything Sam says is bull, even when it feels to Jack like it. He’s gone through a lot of feelings for Sam lately, one of them was anger because he also felt like Sam would patronise him in the most hypocritical way. As if he didn’t try stuff out when he was younger! Dean has told a story or two. But Dean also said Sam’s not gay and that’s not completely true, he found out. Sam is about the person, not gender. So, yes, he’s not gay. But he’s also not straight. If he was just in love with Jack, too. It would be so easy and Jack wouldn’t be so worked up about it.

Jack tries to shoo the thoughts away when he texts Hunter that he’s on his way, but of course he can’t. Sam is always on his mind.

*

If Sam knew he caused a moderately severe teenage rebellion and a sexuality crisis, he probably would’ve never said such bad things to Jack, and he would’ve tried to reconcile even harder. But this way he’s wound up in his inventory distractions, trying to shut the whole issue out.

Sam jerks up when he hears a noise from the hall. It’s probably just Jack walking around. Maybe the damn Magic Mountain and its discourse about damn eroticism was too much for Jack and he looks for something else to read. Sam sees him with all the heavy stuff actually. He read the Iliad , the Odyssey , the complete works of W. B. Yeats and the baroque geste The Fairie Queene by Edward Spenser in the Middle English original and he wouldn’t shut up about it for weeks. Sam has a hard time reading this epic poem, it’s complicated and he feels like he needs to have graduated in literature or linguistics to make sense of it. The problem is, Sam is maybe smart, but Jack is a fucking genius. Sam hates to admit it but the kid is so smart, he outwits Sam vertiginous ly. There’s not much Sam can actually teach him but what he can teach he doesn’t want to. Sex for example. But Dean is a shitty substitute and maybe, yeah, maybe Sam should do it. It will be embarrassing and awful but Dean would drag Jack to a fetish club or something and he can’t let that happen. It’s enough that his three father figures all are a bit weird, Jack could end up like a vanilla type of person and do something remotely decent for a change.

Maybe he should consider giving Jack some sappy romance novel, some light fare. Something that won’t stimulate Jack’s curiosity about the deep endless pits of the human mind, or human sexuel desires. Something that would scratch surfaces but not go too deep. Nora Roberts maybe, but when Sam thinks about it he remembers her novels as repetitive, and not without a problematic approach of gender dynamics, masculinity and love.

Damn. Now he’s thinking about Jack again.

It will never stop.

Sam considers a break. Just to get himself a sandwich, maybe sit together with Jack and give him another honest and more straight forward talk about how and why Sam is the way he is and why he is so different from Dean. He’s pretty sure he’s given very honest and clear answers to Jack’s questions before they had that stupid fight. Labels really aren’t Sam’s jam, but maybe Jack feels better to know labels and then decides they fit or they don’t. And Jack should know that Sam has been vulgar, unfair and downright wrong with his wording and with patronising him like that. It was not his place to send him to his room like a stubborn kid. He kind of realizes now, that Jack is so much more. He deserves a chance to understand the complex dynamics of human interaction in any kind and Sam should let him.

On his way to the kitchen he hears even more clanking of plates, a running coffee maker and sizzling. It smells like steak.

This is weird. Jack doesn’t like coffee. Jack also doesn’t know how to make a steak, that’s Dean’s thing.

Dean’s thing.

Oh no. Sam hurries to the kitchen, before Jack maybe sets something on fire and when he appears in the doorframe, calling out for Jack a very confused Castiel and Dean are in the kitchen, Dean almost drops the hot pan. Cas jerks in surprise and burns his hand with hot coffee.

“Jesus Fuck, Sam! You scared the living shit outta me!” Dean exclaims, looking confused.

Cas wipes his burnt hand clean of the spilled hot coffee.

“Why are you here?”, Cas asks and looks at Sam.

Sam is just as confused as they are at that point.

“Better question is, why are you two here? I thought it was Jack in the kitchen.”

He doesn’t even have time to be relieved about seeing Dean in good condition. He really looks good and relaxed. But at his brothers’ question he raises his eyebrows and turns off the stove.

“I, uh, actually sent you a message a couple hours ago we’re comin’ home Sammy. Enough Vegas. You didn’t reply and then when we parked Baby in the garage, the Volvo wasn’t there. That’s why we” - Dean gestures to Cas - “deduced you and Jack are maybe going somewhere and you didn’t check your messages.”

Sam’s confusion grows. “No, we didn’t go anywhere. I unlocked a secret storage room right on the way down to the pool areas and I’m doing inventory. Jack is in his room. He reads some old dusty Thomas Mann novel, because he’s into phalluses all of a sudden.”

Dean coos a laugh and Castiel clears his throat. Then all three get a glimpse on the fact that something may be wrong here.

“Well, if we’re all here, who took the Volvo?”, Cas asks, silently healing his burn.

Sam could swear Dean mumbles a “son of a bitch” under his breath before he says: “Well, not everyone is here. We should look for Jack.”

Jack isn’t in his room. His shoes and his shoulder bag are gone. The Volvo keys are missing. The situation is pretty clear. Jack has gone somewhere and didn’t tell Sam.

Son of a bitch.

Screwed Up, Scared, Doing Anything That I Needed

The date doesn’t quite go as Jack imagined it to go. Hunter is indeed the man he texted with, but he’s only ever seen the chest or his face and now Hunter looks distinctively older than he claimed on Grindr to be. Jack is too shy to ask him about it, he feels like it’s maybe rude. Hunter has used an old photo on Grindr, that’s for sure. They sat down in a bar anyway, it’s fall and it’s dawning already. Hunter offers to buy Jack drinks and given the fact Jack wouldn’t get drunk he accepts.

But Hunter seems weird. The conversation stops a couple of times and he asks a lot about Jack’s love life, but Hunter knows already, he’s inexperienced, right?

After an hour and two cocktails Jack retreats to the toilet to wash off the weird feeling he has. Hunter is nice to him, there’s no reason for him to be more suspicious. Maybe Hunter was just embarrassed because he’s lost some hair already, and the started balding on the back of his head. When Jack turns around, he gets stuck at the restroom’s stalls door and his phone nosedives in the sink where the water is still running.

“Oh shoot!”, Jack cries out. That can’t be real right now!

He tries to dry off the phone best as he can but he knows it will be best to turn it off and put it in rice. He has no idea about how to get home though and he kind of wants to go home soon. There’s no connection to Hunter as he wished there would be.

Back in the bar Hunter awaits him with what he calls a Gin Tonic. Jack chugs it down and he doesn’t like the taste at all.

“Oh you can take a lot!”, Hunter says and Jack gets the idea that he isn’t amused about how much Jack can drink.

“Yes, I umm, maybe it’s my very fresh liver”, Jack says, but he doesn’t go any further.

“Look, Hunter. You are a nice person, but I don’t feel a real connection. I’m very sorry”, Jack says, being very guilty of wasting the man’s time.

Hunter shrugs it off. “Don’t worry about it, Jack, we just wanted to meet and find out, right? But would you be so kind and ask the barista for his number for me? He seems to be flirting but I’m shy, as you may have … noticed.”

Jack is a bit irritated, but he wants to do the man a favor and agrees. “I wanted to order a coke anyway”, Jack says, getting up. “Do you want something more?”

The older man just gives him a crooked smile.

“Nah, I’m good, champ.”

Champ. Who says champ?

Jack goes over to the bar where the barista (tall, handsome, eyeliner and old school tattoos, maybe as old as Jack passes with). As innocent as he still is in his rebellion he asks him about his name and number.

“Who do you want that for?”, the barista asks him, pouring him a glass of coke.

Jack hates lying, that’s why he points over to Hunter with his thumb.

“My date over there.”

The barista huffs and shakes his head.

“No, but if you want my number I’ll give it to you.”

Jack declines.

“That is very nice of you, but I’m already in love with someone and I think I won’t be with anyone else very soon.”

“I’m Baz, if you change your mind”, that’s when the barista gives him a slip of paper with his instagram URL on it.

“Thank you, Baz”, Jack smiles at him and waves when he takes the coke in his hands and goes back to Hunter.

He’s on the phone, texting someone and Jack just remembers he maybe needs to get a phone call or some maps print to find his way home. His phone shouldn’t be turned on again and he should maybe call Sam to pick him up. That’s really a dumb situation he’s in. Hunter doesn’t look up at first but eventually does and Jack sits down.

“I’m sorry, he’s not interested”, Jack says and takes a sip of his coke.

Hunter sighs but he kind of doesn’t look all too disappointed. “Thanks for the effort though.”

“Hunter, I have a little problem, my phone got wet in the restroom and I need to print a map or call my dad to fetch me here.”

That’s something he seems to like hearing and Hunter relaxes.

“Not a problem, you can come home with me, it’s not far. You can use my printer if you like and I can give you a bag and some rice to put your phone in. It’s no big deal.”

Jack sighs in relief and relaxes a bit. It’s dark outside already, the kind of darkness, that’s not all consuming, but creepy enough. Jack doesn’t like being outside alone for too long and he’s glad Hunter is willing to help.

He wants to pay for himself, this is why Jack gets up and pays his drinks at the register. When he’s back he exes his coke, that tastes strangely bitter this time and maybe it’s just some residual from the cleaning agent. Hunter smiles and gets up too to pay. Jack buttons up his jacket and they leave the bar together.

The air is crisp and there’s a hint of rain. Jack can taste the drops already.

The walk is a little longer than expected and when they arrive at the house, Jack finally gets suspicious. Hunter claims to live on the second floor, and there’s light in two of the rooms. Did he leave his lights on? That is wasting resources and Sam doesn’t like it when Jack would leave the lights on.

Jack doesn’t give it any more thoughts. Somehow Jack feels a bit icky now, there’s a bitter taste in his mouth and his sight is getting a tiny bit blurry, frayed on the edges. Hunter lets him in.

“If you like, you can wait here for a second, I uh, I think I didn’t tidy up very well, I didn’t think we’d come home”, Hunter says, giving Jack a crooked smile. The apartment is tiny, the fitted kitchen just has a small fridge and two hot plates. There’s a microwave and an electric kettle, a toaster and a coffee maker. All in all it looks tidy, but worn, the wallpaper of the corridor looks yellow-ish and it smells of cigarettes. Jack doesn’t like it when people smoke and he’s glad none of his dads do so. Hunter hurries to a door that maybe leads to the living room and sleeping room. Jack has very good senses and he doesn’t feel like he’s alone. There’s footsteps and breathing and the smell of something clinical.

Jack needs to lean against the counter of the kitchen unit and close his eyes. He feels uneasy, something is wrong and he knows he should go. His body feels heavy and his thoughts delay.

And that’s when Jack can hear another man as clear as a bell saying something to Hunter.

“Dude, why did you bring him here? He’s still conscious!”

Then Hunter.

“I had no choice, I gave him the whole bottle. That shit could kill an elephant but he’s still walking straight. I had no idea what to do!”

“You fucking retard!”

This is so loud now, Jack would even hear it if the men didn’t whisper. Jack knows he should react much faster but he feels like he’s walking through water when he reaches for the door and opens it.

And what he sees is nothing he expected.

Jack’s phone is dead.

“What do we do now?”

Sam is clearly panicking and Dean is moderately concerned now, too. Cas kind of holds his shit together, but he also worries.

The angel also is the one to make first assumptions.

“Every of our cars has a GPS tracker, right? We can find him like this, we just have to consult the app.”

Sometimes it sounds like Cas thinks there’s a breathing person on the other end of the line looking the GPS signal up for him, but neither Sam or Dean really bother to make fun of him for a change.

“This is my fault.”

Sam of course blames himself. He has been unfair to Jack, he even insulted him. Something that Sam would never do. If he was still a bit sane, but he seems like his feelings for Jack just turn him inside out. But then he looks at Dean, who really makes a guilty face right now and Sam has an idea.

“No, actually it’s your fault, Dean. You told him about the damn app. We had a fight about it and a couple days later he sneaks out? He must’ve kept contact with someone.”

Dean frowns and crosses his arms, defensively.

“Well I didn’t expect him to pull it off, I mean the boy is clearly in love with you, Sam. I thought that would help him enough through his identity crisis.”

Sam just ignores Dean’s suggestion, Jack would be in love with Sam. Sam would know that, right? He would notice, if Jack was seeking his attention? And given the nature of their relationship that would be absolutely inappropriate.

As inappropriate as his own feelings for Jack.

“Stop making fun of him, I swear, I’ll strangle you myself if something happened to him.”

“Whatever.” Dean says and shrugs. “I know I’m right about that. You should’ve just, dunno, give him a hand or so.”

“You’re unbelievable!”

Before Sam could really reach out and knock his brother unconscious, Castiel interferes. Physically and vocally.

“Sam, Dean. This isn’t helping. It doesn’t matter whose fault it is that Jack is gone, we need to find him. The GPS app says the car is parked in Gilead, Kansas. That’s about an hour and a half away from here. I turned on angel radio, but Jack isn’t responding. Something has happened. We need to go. I’ll zap us to the car and from there, I can maybe sense him. We have no time for rituals. Let’s hope, he’s okay.”

Sam feels like he is about to collapse and cry his heart out. Jack is out there and maybe he’s in danger.

Life Imitates Art

What is irritating Jack the most isn’t the camera on a tripod in front of the bed. It’s also not the three strange guys surrounding the bed or Hunter’s surprised and frightened face. It is the tarp spread over the mattress. A black shiny huge tarp and Jack doesn’t have a single idea why it should be there. His vision shifts slightly and there’s a distant ringing in his ears.

“What is..?” Jack wants to ask but the sentence won’t leave his mouth completely.

Of course, even he gets now he’s been tricked into something. He’s been so incredibly stupid.

“Come on, boy, just relax”, one of the men says and Jack recognizes the voice.

It’s the one who called Hunter a retard and complained about Jack still being conscious. That’s why the coke tasted like soap. Hunter tried to drug him!

The man comes closer now, Jack smells his sharp and heavy aftershave and his head is spinning. Gladly, Jack is half angel and the drugs didn’t knock him out. That’s why Hunter gave him too much it seems. He isn’t going to faint or something but Jack is clearly handicapped and when a second guy also comes closing in Jack looks for a way out, but Hunter behind him locks the door. He looks around, panicking, but all he sees is an XXL bottle of massage oil and sex toys. Oh holy shit.

“Don’t come near me!”, Jack says, retreating, but nudging Hunter with his back and Hunter grips his arms. “Don’t touch me!”

Jack knows how it is to be afraid, but this is a whole new level of fear. He fears for what these men will do to him if he doesn’t manage to get out. The familiar sensation of his powers start tickling. First in his stomach, then his arms and then a piercing pain behind his eyes.

“I said, don’t touch me! ”

The men won’t stop but one of them is looking at him like he’s a ghost.

“What is happening with his eyes?”, he yells. “Shit, something’s wrong with his eyes!”

This must be the moment Jack’s eyes start glowing golden, like they do when Jack is in a state of emotional distress and he does good so. Because the next thing Jack feels is like his chest is erupting.

“No one touches me!”

And then the world turns red.

Castiel drags Sam and Dean across the city, all three of them panicking. The Volvo is abandoned, parked in the city but no sign of Jack. They have no idea where to look first and Cas’ doesn’t receive any signal from Jack, and, well, you can see he’s trying very hard to get even a tiny bit of information.

Dean and Sam are still yelling at each other, like that’s helping anyone right now! But Cas is too focused, too worried to care about the mortals fighting like children.

When Jack’s powers surface, Cas can hear Jack’s enochian voice in his head and it’s shrill, it’s blinding but he knows exactly where they have to go now. He grabs each Winchester and says, following Jack’s call “Shut up, you two. I got him!”

Jack feels dizzy and sick, and he vomits all over the floor. It’s coke and alcohol, gastric acid and the drug Hunter gave him. Everything’s coming out in spurts and Jack is happy to get rid of the poison. The dust in the room settles, three bodies are scattered around him, all of them still breathing but bleeding but one of them, the fourth is crawling towards the door. Jack wants to stop him, because he thinks the man might hurt another boy just like this and he can’t let him get away with it, but his human body is cramping and throwing up bitter fluids.

The man wails when Sam shows up out of nowhere, sided by Cas and Dean. Jack sees them through a veil of tears, but he can’t get up, all he can do for now is whimper. There’s distant grunts and yelling, hectic moving. Cas helps him sit up and his warm healing light helps Jack regain some conscience.

“They’re all blacked out”, Jack hears Dean say. “God damn, look at this, Sam. Camera, bed, latex bed sheets, dildos, lube….”

“Gang rape”, Sam just says and Jack can hear his voice shake with anger.

Then - sounds of plates clashing on the floor and Sam yelling at Dean. And then yelling at Jack who’s still held by Cas to be healed.

“For fuck’s sake, Jack! What did you do?!”

“We need to leave”, Cas says, “we can’t stay, the eruption didn’t happen unheard. Police will be here soon.”

“Sam?”, Jack moans. “Sam?”

Sam crouches in front of Jack and places his hand on Jack’s cheek. There’s no smile in Sam’s face, which Jack would die for. There’s disappointment and anger. So much anger.

“I didn’t mean to…”

Jack regains his strength and gets up. “I’m okay, Cas. I can walk.”

It’s no difference if Jack wanted it or not, it happened. He has almost been assaulted and videotaped because he trusted the wrong person. Because he wanted to show Sam he’s an adult, he can make his own decisions. He’s mature enough to date.

The bitter truth is, that Jack was just a brat and it almost cost him something important. His innocence.

On the way home, Jack and Sam don’t talk much. Dean and Cas zapped back home, but they needed to get the car away from the parking lot and Jack doesn’t want to be zapped, he still feels sick. It’s not only because he threw up all of his meals and drinks today or that he used his powers to defend himself. It was the look on Sam’s face that was utterly sickening. Jack could live with Sam yelling at him again, even calling him a whore or whatever. Call him stupid, childish, bratty, cocky. But the silence is gnawing on Jack’s nerves like a hungry rat. But there’s not much he can say, because if he just told Sam what’s gotten into him he would maybe spill he’s in love with Sam. That he wanted to know what is going on with his body and mind and why he desires Sam of all people on this planet … that Jack wanted to know how it feels to be taken seriously by someone who desires Jack. And if there was a way to forget about Sam with someone else. It didn’t work with Aurora, hell it didn’t work with Hunter.

Jack wonders if he’ll just be in this state forever. Seeing Sam and immediately daydreaming of his big, strong hands all over Jack’s body.

Sam doesn’t talk to him for the whole ride except necessities, he doesn’t talk much when they’re home. There’s another very nasty fight between all three of his dads, when they think Jack is already asleep. Cas looked after him half of the night, helped him shower, brought him sandwiches, water and anti nausea pills. He even attempts to talk about what happened but Jack just can’t. Not yet. Not with Cas. How could a seraph, a celestial being, understand Jack’s human nature? And his failures? He tries and Jack is happy about it. He apologizes to Cas more than once but Cas just says, it’s okay, it happens, we all make mistakes.

But the yelling of Sam and Dean is deafening.

Sam accuses Dean of getting Jack willfully in danger. Dean yelling at Sam for being a fucking coward. A hypocrite, a prude. A liar.

Dean is a drinker, an asshole, a narcissist, relationally disturbed and overall a bad person.

If you believe what they say to each other, which Jack doesn’t.

He doesn’t know what or whom to believe these days.

It takes Dean two days to come up to Jack and apologize. There’s a lot of words being said, all saying the same. That Dean was a prick for saying that, he didn’t mean Jack to get in danger. And somehow Jack thinks, no, he didn’t want Jack to get hurt. He wanted to teach Jack a lesson, whatever that lesson was. Jack wasn’t getting behind it and Dean just manipulates sometimes. He maybe knows the answer and Jack would’ve done a lot to be able to read minds. He could also make all of them stop lying again, but the last time ended in so much chaos… Jack better doesn’t act up at all these days. He’s just happy his fathers found him on time.

Put Your Hands On My Waist, Do It Softly

It takes Jack three nights to finally go up to Sam’s room and knock. He knows Sam is awake, he may not be able to read minds, but he senses Sam’s distress.

“Yeah?”, Sam calls.

“Sam, uh, it’s me, Jack. Can I come in?”

A loud sigh, creaking of the bed.

“Sure. Come in.”

Jack feels like the damn newborn fawn he didn’t want to be mistaken for in this moment when he worms into Sam’s room and closes the door behind him. Sam is in his shorts only, Jack in his pajamas, but when Jack is honest, he didn’t sleep a single minute since they got back to the bunker. He is afraid of the dark and the loneliness and he misses Sam around him so damn much, he cries until his eyes burn and his face is swollen.

“Sam, I wanted to say, … I am sorry, I shouldn’t have lied to you about the app. I shouldn’t have snuck out to meet a shady guy so far away. I’m really sorry.”

Sam looks up.

“Jack, what you did was stupid, rash and irresponsible but I’m not the one you should apologize to. I should apologize to you, but all of this won’t make it undone, you know?”

He tears up again when he sees the hurt look on Sam’s face.

“Look, I know I was mean to you and I was overprotective, rude and I didn’t even tell you why I’m not telling you everything about love and sex you want and need to hear. I should have because I’m your caretaker and I should’ve known better. I don’t blame you even half as much as I blame myself.”

At first Jack wants to protest, but Sam is right. There’s been mistakes on both sides with a hint of Dean spicing things up.

“Can I sit down?”, Jack then asks, still standing in the corner at the door.

Sam gets up and puts his laundry away from the only available seat. Except his bed.

Jack sits down, rubbing his face and squeezing his legs together. Damn tears. He even has a headache.

“I wanted to understand”, Jack mumbles, looking down at his lap. “Why I feel certain things for certain people-”, he looks up, Sam’s face is still a stiff grimace, “... why is it all so confusing?”

“Love?”, Sam asks.

“Yes, love. Sex. All of it.”

There’s a minute of nerve wracking silence, before Jack has the guts to say it.

“I only ever wanted to know how it is with you .”

It’s so quiet now, Jack imagines he could hear a pin drop at the gas station out of Lebanon. He knows he dropped a bomb right here, but he overheard another fight with Dean calling Sam a hypocrite -again- and ‘having the hots for the kid’. Apart from being called a damn kid again, Jack checked what that means. Having the hots. And well, yeah, Jack himself has the hots for Sam and he doesn’t want to live with the uncertainty anymore. He won’t meet anyone else he wants to be with, not in a very long time and if Sam doesn’t reciprocate his feelings, he can still try to move on. But there’s no moving on in a vacuum. Like now.

“Dean is right?”, Jack asks carefully, his voice is thin.

“Dean is right”, Sam finally admits and buries his face in his hands. “But it doesn’t mean it’s right. You know?”

“I know.”

Another second passes.

“No, actually I don’t know, Sam. I don’t think it’s wrong. You said you’d never judge. But why did you do so when I needed your approval the most?”

Sam looks helpless, wringing his hands.

“Because I was jealous and I shouldn’t be.”

“I would’ve liked your jealousy more than being insulted by you.”

It’s visible how uncomfortable Sam is, he’s fighting emotions. Jack is, too. But he’s crying already. What happened to Jack was terrifying, but what he really, truly fears is Sam’s rejection.

“I’m sorry, Jack.”

“Stop being sorry and start being honest with me… Don’t you think I deserve it now? I know I’ve changed very radically. I used to go to town in my damn pajamas. That’s barely four weeks ago and it feels like years already.”

Sam smiles now. Even a little sad.

“Yes, it was actually very adorable. Seeing you like this.”

“I’m not adorable anymore. I’m not that naive anymore. Why can’t you just… see me like Dean sees Cas?”

“That’s a very bad example and you know it.”

Now Jack laughs and wipes away some cold tears from his face.

“And I already see you like this, Jack. But I feel guilty for it. I’m here to keep you safe. I want to be the person you turn to when you’re lost, I want to guide you, but also be the person that’s your safe haven. Can I do that when we… Jack, when we get together, our relationship will change. We will get to know each other in ways that might scare you. Or even scare me. I’m afraid of that. And if I’m afraid, you should be, too.”

When Jack gets up and sits beside Sam on the bed, without asking first -- it feels like a very bold move for Jack. He likes being close to Sam and feeling his body radiate warmth and safety but also desire and a pull that’s hard to resist, Jack knows it’s the right thing.

“I’m not afraid. I’ve been afraid in Gilead, but when I’m with you, I know nothing bad will ever happen to me.”

Sam’s face yells OBJECTIONS but Jack ignores it.

Jack leans on Sam’s shoulder, the touch feels electrifying and at first, Sam stiffens, but then relaxes and puts his hand around Jack’s shoulders.

“I’m not afraid”, Jack says again.

Sam nuzzles his nose against Jack’s hair and kisses him right behind his ear. Jack feels violent hot shudders all over and that is the most intense thing he’s ever felt for anyone.

“It feels good”, he mumbles, turning his face to Sam.

Sam is close, incredibly close and despite the hot shudders Jack gets goosebumps all over. It feels like that one time he had fevers, when he was dying, but in a good way. The best possible way.

Jack doesn’t receive a kiss on his lips, as he wished for, Sam kisses his cheek and his jaw. Just slightly. But to Jack it feels like he’s a dying sun out there in the universe and he’s being eaten up by heat and flares of light.

And then Sam’s hand reaches for Jack’s.

“I still need time…”, he whispers, “we both need some time. To be sure.”

“I’m very sure.”

“Give it a minute”, Sam says, hot breath lingering over Jack’s face. “Just a minute…”

Even Sam can’t wait the damn minute before he kisses Jack. Gentle and light like a hummingbird.

"This is Heaven, what I truly want."

[buildarocketboys]

Been having lots of thinky thoughts about autism while reading I Overcame My Autism and All I Got Was This Lousy Anxiety Disorder by Sarah Kurchak. Mostly about having self doubt about my autism bc my childhood wasn't an unmitigated disaster or unending catastrophe and I actually had friends, but I think I've figured out why that is (and why I'm struggling so much more now than I ever did as a kid).

It comes down to several things. So in primary school, I sort of considered myself to be friends with everybody (and kinda was I guess? I don't think many people actively disliked me anyway, or if they did it wasn't obvious enough for me to pick up on). My "best friend" for the later years of primary school was a very classic 'socially ept girl takes socially awkward autistic under their wing' situation but she was also very much...manipulative and would only let us do/play what *she* wanted, even when I really really didn't want to, but I was usually too scared to be really forceful about it in case I lost her/she got mad at me. I now definitely consider this a toxic (possibly abusive, if that's even possible when you're 8-11?) friendship. There's other stuff in my primary school years that definitely rings very autistic but looking back (even a few years later) I really didn't have any meaningful friendships, at least compared to those I had in high school (how much that's an autistic thing and how much it's just...normal social development as a child idk)

But in high school...

I think it helped that it was pretty 'in' and the time to be a complete weirdo and play that up. The time of 'lol random xD' etc was definitely something I used to my advantage as an autistic. I played up my weirdness (probably still counted as masking in a way - socially acceptable - in our weird little group - weirdness - was easier to perform than trying to pass as normal ig).

I also found friends who were, you know, Like This and so accepted me being like this as well (and weren't Assholes like my primary school bff). I was never popular by any means, but I had my weird little group.

Additionally, I was Very Unaware of how my behaviour (specifically the things I said) could be taken as rude or mean or inappropriate. It's very possible I put people off with some of the things I said or did (politically my beliefs were...bad but it wasn't just that). I definitely had a superiority complex and made friends by using friendly banter and it usually worked. Being unaware of how I could come off also made me Able to use this as a technique for making friends instead of being an anxious mess and not knowing what I'm allowed to say or do (which is how I feel now).

Once I got to 18 (and joined tumblr lol, which wasn't the only thing that contributed to me realising that some of the things I believed - mostly bc I was repeating stuff my parents thought - and said and did were harmful, but it was a big part of it). Learning about why certain stuff was harmful and could hurt people in a very real way (rather than the way it's occasionally spoon-fed to you in school where it just comes across as vaguely patronising, obviously not something YOU'D ever do, and not even applicable in most cases when the majority of people you knew were white and presumably cis and straight), was a good thing, obviously, and I believe it's made me a better person overall. But unfortunately it's come at the cost of being an anxious mess when it comes to interacting with people, unable to do it naturally (because I don't know exactly what I can say to them bc what's a casual joke/banter to one person you know well enough or who gets you can be an inexplicably offensive/hurtful/inappropriate comment to someone who doesn't*) and trying to mask and say only appropriate things. And this often fails either because a. I mess up my words bc I'm trying to so hard to focus on not offending someone or b. I never forge a genuine connection with them because I'm forced into meaningless small talk and unable to get to the real friendship I could potentially have if I could just figure out how to be myself with them in a way that's not going to lead to them being offended or rejecting me (or just being put off and distancing themselves from me).

So basically, tldr, I honestly don't think I masked all that much as a kid? Like, I'm sure I must have done some (like with body language and tone) but in terms of conversation/making friends I was mostly just my weird self, at least in high school. And then I figured out that because I didn't understand what was inappropriate/offensive, I possibly (sometimes definitely) hurt people being myself, so I developed anxiety and an inability to just be myself, leading to me finding it nearly impossible to make meaningful connections with anyone irl for the past few years.

*by this I don't mean like. Saying something Actually Racist (for example) to someone and them being OK with it vs them being offended by it. I mean more like...smaller social things, or making fun of my own identity, or pointing out something about someone but not in a mean way. Not trying to claim that I've never been racist or any other ism (I definitely have, I regret to say) but just wanted to clarify lest I come across as 'oh woe is me poor white person who can't say offensive shit anymore!')

[poptod]

The Story of Golden Fish and Red Duck (Ahkmenrah x Reader, Ch. 5)

Ch. 1, Ch. 2, Ch. 3, Ch. 4

Word Count: 3.4k AO3 Link: The Story of Golden Fish and Red Duck

Unas visited Ahkmen several more times, but you did not join in. You were convinced that the less you saw of him, the more likely that your emotions for him (whatever they may be) would dissipate, and life would return to normal. The only problem was you didn't see him at all - you were forbade from doing that, and the idea that it was forbidden made you miss him all the more. It was indeed a very, very unfortunate predicament that had Unas laughing every time he saw you frowning or pouting.

"This is a serious issue, you know," you mumbled, wary of the many guests in the lower level of your house. Your mother had been feeling a little lonely, or at least that's what she told your father so he'd plan a small party. Unas' family was, of course, invited, along with one of your sister's friend's family. Teremun was annoyed that he couldn't invite his friends, but that was none of your business locked away in your bedroom, you and Unas sitting across from each other on the floor and avoiding everyone else.

"I'm fully aware of that, it doesn't make it any less funny," he wheezed out, unable to catch his breath.

"It's not that funny!"

"Oh I'm sorry, you not knowing you had a crush on Ahkmen isn't funny? We must live in different realms," he said as he shook his head, still grinning from ear to ear.

"I don't have a crush on him!" You snapped, your cheeks burning hot.

"You're still in denial?" His expression fell into unadulterated disbelief.

"Well... I just don't want you saying it out loud," you admitted sheepishly.

He looked at you, almost shocked at your ineptitude in the area of love, but somehow still supportive.

"We need to do something about this. You realize that, right?" He asked lowly, trying to meet your worrisome gaze.

"Yeah, but I have no idea how we're going to make me hate Goldie again."

"That - that is not the answer to this question, what the hell," he said, shaking his head again. "We're going to get you and Ahkmen together."

Your heart dropped in your chest. You were not going to be in a relationship with Ahkmen - it simply wasn’t an option. Besides the fact that you were still consciously in denial about even liking him, your families would be horrified in more ways than one. Ahkmen had pull as a prince, but his father was the Pharaoh, and his word was law, and the Pharaoh hated your father. There was no way either family would approve.

"Absolutely not. He's literally banned from seeing me again, and that's not even in the dating definition of that word," you said with a humorless laugh, rubbing your temples.

"That's what makes it more exciting."

You did not agree, but you didn't agree with Unas on several other things, so it wasn't a massive deal. He didn't have a point, that's what you kept telling yourself, repeating it over and over again in your head - his way was not the right way. Actually, it was more near suicidal. Neither of you even knew if Ahkmen liked you back, and even if he did, there was still the problem that you consciously kept circling back to hating him. You had strong emotions about him, and by Gods you were going to make sure it remained a strong hate, instead of the soft love sneaking into your head and lulling your hatred at bay.

All of your, Unas, and Ahkmen's ideas on the subject aside, you were still banned from seeing each other, and there was no way Unas could make you climb that rope again. You would have to be made to see him by your own family and his, and all three of you knew that would never happen again.

Except there was one thing Unas could do.

One horrible, devious thing, but he was known for being devious, and did not mind the title at all.

Within the next several weeks a popular festival would make its' way to Memphis; the Hathor festival. Much like the Tekh festival, the main theme was to get as drunk as possible and have as many orgasms as physically possible before passing out two hours before sunrise. Usually you spent the evening with Unas, wandering the streets and finding the best musicians and brewers the city had to offer. In fact you even made to do that - by afternoon you were walking to Unas' house, keeping your bag and coins close to you.

There was a thrill in the air, something that persisted throughout the city on the eve of every festival, just as it did then. Vendors more easily negotiated a price, eager to get home and prepare their own celebrations, some restaurants even letting their workers off early. For some reason, it wasn't complete catastrophe if no one worked during the festival, which you attributed to it being a bit of a free for all. Not particularly the safest environment for children, but things worked out alright, and Unas always brought backup in the form of weaponry.

Knocking at Unas' front door, you were greeted by his quiet sister, who you rarely ever saw, much like his father. You didn't get in a word before she was calling down Unas, who bounded down the stairs after catching sight of you. Dragging you inside, he pulled you upstairs and forced you into his room without a word.

"Unas? Everything alright?" You asked, feeling suspicious, but too amused by the secrecy of the situation to put any stock in it being a bad situation.

"Yes! Of course, here, I got you something," he said with a too-happy grin, handing you clothing wrapped in a brown package. Eyeing him oddly, you slowly unwrapped it, unveiling a black and red bundle of cloth. "Try it on, it's for tonight," he said.

"Don't we usually not dress up for this?" You asked, the suspicious feeling returning.

"Yeah, but I got invites to a pretty high up party," he said with a smirk, proud of his accomplishment.

"Fine," you gave in with a sigh. "I'll get changed, but I expect you to wear something just as frivolous."

"Don't worry, I will. Oh, and," he caught you before you left the room, "I'm blindfolding you on the way there. It's a surprise."

You frowned. "This is starting to sound like a bad idea."

It was, very much, a bad idea. Unas refused to take the blindfold off until the carriage stopped, the two of you had gotten out, and you were halfway up the steps. The amount of steps had you suspicious, but as he pulled the cloth from your eyes, it was all confirmed - he was taking you to the palace, the exact place the both of you had been banned from being. To make matters worse, you were actually looking forward to spending time with Unas, and he went and betrayed you.

"I'm going home," you said immediately, the cloth barely falling from your eyes before you could see the familiar pillars.

"No, you aren't! You're going to deal with this like an adult!" He said, chasing after you down the steps, grasping onto your upper arm and yanking you back up.

"We've been banned from the palace, in case you hadn't noticed! It's illegal for us to go in there!"

"Didn't bother you when we snuck in," he bit back.

"That was different and you know that."

"It doesn't matter anyway," he said, digging into his bag. "It's gonna be a massive orgy in there, no one will notice us, and masks are getting in to fashion." He pulled two masks out, one pitch black and the other stark white, handing the black one to you. Decorating your eyes with gems and silk, you tied the string behind your head, adjusting it on your nose. He did the same, correcting the accidental tilt in yours when he finished.

"You'll stay by my side, at least until we find him, right?" You asked shakily, trying to take a deep breath.

"Of course," he assured with a small smile, gripping your hand in his. The two of you took off up the stairs, him determined to stop your whining about Ahkmen, and you determined to do the exact same, but for a different reason.

The noise level grew with each step closer, become more and more defined, till you could pick out the loud moaners from the singers, the massive crowd in sight. As with most of the Pharaoh's parties, it was a no-invite event, meaning anyone could attend, and a good deal of people loved to take advantage of that. Your fingers tightened around Unas' hand, and he gave you a reaffirming smile - we're not going to be caught by the Pharaoh.

"I mean, Pharaoh's probably drunk, right?" You said, anxiety lacing your tone.

"Exactly. He can't prove anything and we can run faster than he can. Just one thing -" he turned to you - "stay sober."

"Yes sir," you said with a salute, the two of you chuckling quietly as the tenseness in the air lessened.

There was no way anyone would notice you. Everyone was far too preoccupied with their and other people's genitals which might've been enjoyable had you been drunk enough to attend, but you were not, and neither was Unas, leaving you both an embarrassed mess by the time you reached the food tables. Several people were lounging in that general area, most having slow sex while eating food, which you and Unas pointedly ignored.

"Where do you think he is?" You whispered, unsure of why you were whispering, but Unas seemed to think it was the right thing to do as well.

"In the highest room in the tallest tower, you'll find a beautiful golden maiden," he whispered in a high, girly voice, batting his eyelashes. You elbowed him, making him wheeze and laugh.

"Thanks for that, idiot. Let's go find him and get this over with," you grumbled under your breath, dragging him away from the food and leading him up the stairs.

Your memory wasn't fantastic, and you'd only been led to Ahkmen's room once before, which was your main excuse for getting lost three times. Unas made fun of you, as a friend always does, but wasn't of much more help when it came to finding the right rooms. Several of them had been filled up with more people, and upon noticing that you started to knock before entering. Though, that tactic wasn't of much help either, because most people would just invite you in, thinking you were more patrons waiting for a good time.

When at last you came to stand in front of the familiar double doors, the both of you stopped - the journey had finally come to a close, and there was a strange sense of doom in the air.

"You'll do fine, I'm sure," Unas said, sounding as if he'd never been less sure in his life, eyes staring up at the tall doors.

"Yeah... sure," you agreed thoughtlessly, your voice a murmur.

"... so are you going to go in?" He asked slowly, turning to you expectantly.

"Hm? Oh, um.. yeah. Of course. I'll... what - what should I say?"

"Why are you asking me? This is not my area of expertise," he said, frowning.

"Well you're the one who brought me here! I thought you might have a better idea than I do," you hissed, every second that passed by feeding the fear growing rabid in your heart.

"I just thought you'd go in there and, I don't know, kiss him? This is why it's a bad idea to ask me."

"You have no idea what subtlety is, do you?"

"Don't be ridiculous," he said, knocking on the door. "I can be subtle."

"I can't think of a single time you've ever been subtle," you chuckled.

Silence came from the room, halting your conversation with Unas. Confused, the both of you pushed open the doors, finding the room empty and the lights out.

"Well fuck," he muttered under his breath, glancing to the balcony before helping you close the doors again.

"Looks like it wasn't meant to be! We should go," you said, tugging on Unas' sleeve to get him to leave, which he continuously refused to do.

"He has to be somewhere in the palace. Maybe he's at the party," Unas suggested, using his size and strength to drag you along.

"We'll never find him, there must be a thousand people in this place," you said as you weakly attempted to break his grasp on you.

"I'm not willing to watch you and Ahkmen mope about for one more day. I'm sick of it," he finally admitted with bitter words, making you stammer for an excuse. There was none, but you still tried, stumbling over your words as you tried to wrench his hand from yours.

"I do not mope," you said as you gave in, walking at his side.

"You most certainly do, you've been doing it for weeks now," he retorted, his eyes drifting over the dancing crowd once you reached the lower level. Reluctantly you assisted, checking the left side of the massive room while he checked the right.

In a second his grip loosened from yours and he bolted across the room, pushing careless people aside as he ran. Startled, you looked in his direction, but couldn't find him amongst the mass of people. That idiot, you thought bitterly as you set off in the general direction he'd taken. He said he wouldn't leave my side.

Running against the flow of the populace, you almost ran head-long into several people, to which you quickly apologized and continued on your way. Fortunately for you, most people were drunk enough that they didn't mind. Unas wasn't horribly tall, but he didn't exactly blend into the crowd either, and you considered yourself blessed when you caught sight of his unruly hair. Before you could push your way to him, someone ran headfirst into you, your foreheads clanking painfully together, sending a wave of dull, throbbing pain through your skull.

"Oh, fuck!" You exclaimed instinctively, screwing your eyes shut and grasping your head where you'd been hit.

"Fuck, I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to," the man said in a terribly familiar voice that grated against your nerves and softened your heart. Opening your eyes you looked at him, also sitting on the ground, golden robes pooling around him and a crown upon his head.

"Goldie, I... uh," you trailed off, your words leaving you as the two of you stared at each other, the trampling crowd not a thought in your heads.

Out of nowhere, Unas' hand reached for the back of Ahkmen's collar, yanking him backwards into the crowd. Stumbling to your feet you tried to find which direction they'd gone in, but to no avail - you were too short to see above the crowd. Nonetheless you continued in their general direction, weaving through dancers and passing at least two dozen naked people before you reached a wall.

Fuck's sake, you thought, biting your lip as you turned back to the crowd. From your position you saw the stairs on the other side of the room, the only place in which the crowd thinned, and the only place you could easily see and sort through the various people. It was slow work, but you made your way to it, climbing up a carved statue of a lion and sitting atop the head, looking out over the gathering. Unlike with most of the Pharaoh's parties, it was dimly lit, making it harder to see who you might be fraternizing with. For you, all it worked to do was make your task of finding Ahkmen much, much harder.

Caught up in an almost grotesque scene of around ten naked people writhing over each other, you didn't notice someone flickering past you in the corner of your eye, at least not until they were grasping the back of your shirt and tugging you off the statue and up the stairs. You let out a yelp of surprise, trying to turn and see your abductor with fruitless results. Trying to keep your feet steady, you attempted to walk backwards to ease the pull they had on you, only slipping two or three times on the large staircase.

"This is illegal you know, abduction," you reminded them through gritted teeth, reaching back to dig at their fingers in hopes they'd release you.

Anxieties ran rampant through your head, reminding you of the many, horrible ways this person could violate and hurt you. As adrenaline rushed through you you dug harder into their fingers, hoping to puncture the skin and draw blood. A wince came from them, but not much else before they were tossing you into a dark, cramped storage room, following after you and closing the door.

At last you turned around, trying your damnedest to force your eyes to adjust in the dark to see your captor. Just as the edges of your vision returned to you, they surged forward, hands on either side of your face and kissed you. Hard. In a mesh of tongue and soft lips you tried to pull away, but they kept going deeper. You'd clenched your eyes, you noticed that as they continued to kiss you, and when you opened them you came face to face with very familiar eyes that fluttered open when he pulled away, gentle in a manner you rarely, if ever, saw.

"Gold -"

Once again you were cut off by him pulling you by the waist, colliding with you like stars, disastrous and beautiful and horrendously reverent. By his touch the fervor he felt passed to you, veins alighting with humble worship of each other, and in a moment Gods forsook you gave in. You let him touch you, let him explore each and every crevice, every imperfection and fracture, filling each mistake with a love that flowed slow and ardent in a golden light only he could cast. In one moment you let effervescence flow through you, and in the next you ripped yourself away from him.

"You can't just do that, you know," you said, panting as you parted. In the middle of it all, you'd wrapped your arms around his neck, which you quickly undid, letting your hands fall to your sides.

"I'm never going to see you again, so I thought I might as well," he said in the same bitter voice you'd last heard him with.

"Oh for fucks - I think I've finally narrowed down who you are," you laughed, shaking your head. He raised a quizzical eyebrow. "You're an idiot. You're a whole lot of other things, of other..." you drew closer, "... complicated things, but at heart you're an idiot, which is just about the best thing someone can be."

He paused, processing your words, trying to weed out of that was a compliment or an insult, or a backhanded compliment.

"Wow," you muttered when he still didn't seem to get it. Placing your hand at the back of his neck you pulled him close, pressing your lips to his in the way you liked to kiss - slow, gentle... tender. Like silk against your skin he moved with you, soft fingertips running over your jawline as he returned the kiss. Begging silently for more he moved you closer, wrapping you tight in his arms as you smiled against his lips, gifting smaller kisses down his neck till you reached his collar, returning to him when you did. A tiny hum left him, broken and sweet when you pressed your lips to his once more.

"I thought you hated me, I really did," he practically moaned the words, running his hands up your shirt, the cold touch of his hands shocking the heat from your bare skin.

"I did, to be fair," you said, which only garnered a confused look from him. "Unas had to knock some sense into me, but it didn't... didn't really take effect until just now."

"Just now? You're meaning to say you didn't like me until just now?"

"I never claimed to be smart."

The two of you laughed, Ahkmen letting his head fall to your shoulder. Vibrations ran up your neck, and as you ran your fingers through his hair, his laughter calmed to a pleasant hum.

"You won't leave me, then?" He pleaded softly, his thumb rubbing circles into your waist.

"No. I won't leave you, Ahkmen."

[randomisthefandom]

a list of my favorite funny shadowhunter chronicles quotes:

it’s the mortal cup jace, not the mortal toilet bowl.

“how was the seelie queen?” “same as usual.” “raging bitch, then?” “pretty much”

no, i’m a very naughty boy. i do all sorts of bad things. i kick kittens. i make rude gestures at nuns.

“what’s this?” “it’s a girl, alec. your sister isabelle is one.”

the clave has the collective intelligence of a pineapple.

i thought i’d lie on the floor and writhe in pain for awhile. it relaxes me.

that’s simon lewis, and he is my boyfriend. so if any of you think about trying to hurt him because he's a mundie or--may the angel have mercy on your soul--pursuing him romantically, i will come after you, i will hunt you down and i will crush you to powder.

i was going to watch project runway. it’s on next

never trust a duck.

nobody calls me ‘blondie’ and keeps their kneecaps.

meanwhile, i wanted to tell you that lately i’ve been cross-dressing. also, i’m sleeping with your mom. i thought you should know.

speaking of hope, did you see that shot alec got off with his bow? that’s my boyfriend.

i think she asked if she could touch my mango.

i was alive when the dead sea was just a lake that was feeling rather poorly.

usually i’m remarkably good natured. try me on a day that doesn’t end in y.

a warlock who looks like a gay sonic the hedge hog and dresses like the child catcher from chitty chitty bang bang.

hot faerie threesome. i can say i knew you when.

i’m pure at heart. it repels the dirt.

“and i don't know how to be smooth, sexy vampire simon for you, either!" “you were never that smooth, simon.”

not necessarily. i turn myself down occasionally just to keep it interesting.

it isn’t against the law to be an idiot.

first candy and flowers, then the apology letters, then the ravenous demon hoards- all in one day.

demon pox, oh demon pox. just how is it acquired? one must go down to the bad part of town until one is very tired. demon pox, oh demon pox, i had it all along—not the pox, you foolish blocks, i mean this very song— for i was right, and you were wrong!

"a...lord montgomery? you dated a member of the nobility? how am I ever going to compete with that?" "you’re lord montgomery, simon!”

“‘will. do you care more about the plan being enacted or about getting credit for it?” “that. the second one.”

i am a man and men do not consume pink beverages.

oh, i’m sorry. is there a different highway you’d like to die on? because we can arrange that.

the meek may inherit the earth, but at the moment it belongs to the conceited like me.

but he hurt jules, so when we track him down, i am going to chop him up and feed him to my fish. well, i’m going to buy some. i’m going to buy goldfish and feed them blood until they acquire a taste for human flesh.

when i first arrived in london, i so quickly tired of being surrounded by so many people that it was only with great difficulty that i refrained from seizing the next unfortunate who crossed my path and committing violent acts upon their person.

i see you have decided to follow in the long herondale tradition of poor decision-making.

“so you just came here to torture me and talk about yourself?” “oh, simon, simon, simon. you may not remember, but that's kind of our thing.”

i’ve heard the word ‘fear’, i simply choose to believe it doesn’t apply to me.

“i’m trying to figure out how someone could live in a brothel for a month and not notice. you must be terribly dull-witted. if it helps at all, it seemed to be quite a high-class establishment. nicely furnished, fairly clean...” “sounds as if you've visited your fair share of brothels. making a study of them?” “more of a hobby.’”

“jesus!” “actually, it’s just me, although i’ve been told the resemblance is startling.”

nice, bah. he’s gorgeous. you should leave him here. i could hang hats on him and things.

that’s why when major bad asses greet each other in movies, they don’t say anything, they just nod. the nod means ‘I am a badass and I recognize that you, too, are a badass’, but they don’t say anything because they’re wolverine and magneto and it would mess up their vibe to explain.

i’m a werewolf not a golden retriever.

i’ll crash the wedding. i’ll jump out of the cake, but not in a sexy way. like, with grenades

did you ever think that in a past life alec was an old woman with ninety cats who was always yelling at the neighborhood kids to get off her lawn? because i do.

“have you got a spider anywhere?” “why would i have a spider? do i look like someone who would collect them?” “no offense, but you kind of do.”

unfortunately, we are all out of bitter revenge at the moment. so it’s either tea or nothing.

“i’m not gay. i’m not straight. i’m not interested.” “your sexuality is ‘not interested’?” “that’s right.”

just kissing? how quickly you dismiss our love.

you had to make a crazy jail friend didn’t you? you couldn’t just count ceiling tiles or tame a pet mouse like normal prisoners do?

just coffee. black like my soul.

magnus did not have enormous respect for the law, but if he was breaking it he wanted to look good doing it.

i don’t want to grow up, i want to be an angst ridden teenager who can’t confront his own inner demons and takes it out verbally on other people instead.

“magnus, you were trying to flirt with your own plate.” “i’m a very open-minded sort of fellow!” “ragnor is not. when he found out that you were feeding us guinea pigs, he hit you over the head with your plate. it broke.” “so ended our love. ah, well. It would never have worked between me and the plate anyway.”

“when will says 'enterprising', he means 'morally deficient.” “no, I mean enterprising. when i mean morally deficient, i say, ‘now that's something i would have done.’”

never believe the bad guy is dead until you see a body. that just leads to unhappiness and surprise ambushes.

“i promise to charm the dickens out of him. i shall charm him with such force that when i am done, he will be left lying limply on the ground, trying to remember his own name.” “the man's eighty-nine. he may well have the problem anyway.”

i thought: classic jace. never makes a mess when a catastrophe will do.

“that’s not the spirit of the law, emma. remember? ‘the law is hard, but it is the law’” “i thought it was ‘the law is annoying, but it is also flexible.’”

“a little girl robbed you?” “actually she wasn’t a little girl at all, as it turns out, but a midget in a dress with a penchant for violence, who goes by the name of six-fingered nigel.”

“goodness. if you keep seeing six-fingered nigel like this, he'll expect you to declare your intentions."

you told us to leave you in the desert, because you planned to start a new life as a cactus.

your pretense does not fool me, gnome. my eye will be upon you.

of course, for a badass warrior, jace is kind of prissy.

good proverb. however, like most proverbs, it sounds wise and yet does not actually clarify anything.

let me just follow up by describing what a big mistake you would be making if you broke up with alec. the lightwoods are seriously hot people. some people say the herondales used to be hot, but think about it-not only do we outnumber them, but we took their last hottie and we made him ours. obviously, we won the victory.

[phobiadeficient]

ngl all your works (both normal and sfw) slap hard af (in a good way, to be clear). and that recent sniperscout... i know this ship is actually all you are forced to write about now, but maybe next continuation of that 'hiatus13' ask? -🦂

dude no worries i’m not forced to write fuckin’ anything, y’all couldn’t force me to write something even if you wanted to. i do what i want

-

Okay, so it wasn’t like—

So yeah, Scout was kind of new to dating guys. Or, not even dating, just sleeping with. Hell, not even sleeping with—

It was just that he was kind of new at guys as a concept and he’d heard enough, like, jokes and shitty comments and stuff that he was kind of a little bit nervous.

Because for sure he’d expected it to be a thing where like, okay, they were gonna fuck, that meant doing whatever the hell was involved in doing that between two guys. But then Sniper had jerked him off, then he’d sucked Sniper off and that actually had been pretty goddamn great and he was still kind of using that as jackoff material, then Sniper sucked him off, which he was definitely using as jackoff material probably until he died.

And... they’d seen each other again like that once or twice since then. And both times Sniper hadn’t even brought up what Scout said, he’d just gotten Scout off with his hand and mouth and helped Scout with returning the favor. But he knew Sniper remembered what he said.

About... wanting Sniper to fuck him.

Okay, so maybe Scout was a little nervous. Maybe nervous enough that it was keeping him lying awake a little bit.

He sighed hard, turning onto his back and glaring at the ceiling. He was probably overthinking this. It probably wasn’t even a big deal. He wasn’t even one of those people that put a lot of stock in the whole “virginity” thing, into first times as a whole, because experience was more of a sliding scale and not an on/off switch anyways, and it wasn’t like this was going to be wildly different from the other times he’d had sex. It was just that he was going to be on the other side.

And, like, maybe a few other differences too, but it wasn’t a big deal.

And it wasn’t like it was a complete mystery either—he hadn’t exactly hit the books or anything, but he had a basic running idea of how stuff worked between two dudes. Knew the steps, knew the mechanics of it. Like, beyond just skin mags from the extremely secret section of the secret section of magazines. Like, actual reliable sources since he learned pretty early on in his sex life that porn was made by liars.

He closed his eyes tight.

And it wasn’t like it was going to be unpleasant, as far as he could tell. The concept of it sounded really nice. The concept of a guy—fuck it, this was a fantasy, why be subtle? The concept of specifically Sniper running hands along his body, groping up his thighs and holding on to his ass the way that he tended to do when they made out, except his fingers drifting inward until they could rub against him in teasing motions—

He shifted under the blanket, and realized he was hard, and sighed again, realizing that he wasn’t getting to sleep any time soon.

He considered for a second. Maybe... he could get a head start. Sorta break the seal on the situation ahead of time so he wasn’t completely clueless later.

He fumbled through his bedside table for a minute in the dark until he found the tube of lube he tended to use—he might as well invest, not like he had much other shit to spend his ridiculous mercenary salary on—and clicked on the light on the table just so he could see a little bit.

He kicked the blanket off—it was too hot for that anyways—and considered positions for a few minutes until he finally just turned onto his front, propping himself up a little bit on his knees and already feeling extremely embarrassed by all of this.

Okay, no, that was fine. That was why he needed to do this before he made an idiot of himself in front of Sniper.

He shuffled his boxers down and muddled his way through getting his hand slick for a minute before he moved to slick up his fingers as best he could, hesitating all along the way. How much lube was he supposed to use? Like, a lot, probably, right? Probably no way to use too much. A lot was probably a good idea.

He slid his hand back down behind himself, shifting once and twice to find a good angle that wouldn’t fuck his arm up, and kinda beat around the bush for a few moments before he could really convince himself to go for it. He’d showered after work because he’d been all dusty and bloody anyways, so he knew he was clean and all, but for some reason he still hesitated.

Maybe nerves again. Whatever.

It... wasn’t a bad feeling. That was an immediate relief. It was just... a little weird. The same way it had been a little weird that time Sniper had introduced him to the concept of playing with his chest, had pinched at each nipple until Scout was a fuckin’ mess. And he was pretty sure that, like that time, it would just take a little bit before he got used to it, then it would feel good.

It kinda felt good. More in the way of the idea of it being good, to be honest, and the newness of it. Little circles against himself were more soothing than anything, but the idea of slicking himself up and working open to get fucked was—

Okay. Okay, he could do this.

He took deep breaths, closed his eyes tight, tried to take things slow and steady, tried to relax, tried not to tense up. And he glanced over at his clock, and was a little annoyed when he found himself almost ten minutes into trying to work through even just one finger and it hadn’t started feeling good yet, just slightly weird. 

And he found himself getting frustrated enough that he gave up on trying to work open any real amount, face and shoulders smashed into the mattress by his body weight as he just tugged himself off in half-slick motions and decided he would just clean up in the goddamn morning.

So, okay. It hadn’t gone great. But it also hadn’t been a fuckin’ catastrophe, so he really didn’t have any idea what to think.

He tried two other times after that, and while it didn’t feel bad, it was just... not much of anything. Mostly he just felt like, a little uncomfortable. Less than the first time, but still not much. And he figured, fuck it, why make this the one part of his life he beat around the bush on? So he just brought it up to Sniper anyways.

And he almost didn’t get around to saying anything at all, distracted by kissing and feeling Sniper’s hands groping up and down his thighs, stopping to play at his chest for a little while, apparently amused by the noises he could wring out of Scout. That was the thing that had Scout all especially hot and bothered was how much Sniper clearly enjoyed getting reactions out of him.

“Uh, hey,” Scout tried to say, voice shaky and muffled against Sniper’s mouth, and Sniper slowed for a few seconds, pulling back to raise an eyebrow. “Uh. Remember that thing I said?”

“You say a lot of things,” Sniper deadpanned. “You’ll need to be more specific.”

Scout shifted, flushing. “I, uh. I meant about... how I said you should fuck me,” he tried, deciding he should probably just be outright.

Sniper raised an eyebrow. “Think you’re ready for that?” he asked bluntly.

“Well, why wouldn’t I be?” Scout challenged, trying to make light of it, like it wasn’t even a big deal.

“...If you’re sure,” Sniper hesitantly acquiesced, and looked at him for a few seconds, then shifted Scout up out of his lap. “Up for a mo’, we’ll need...”

Scout stripped off his shirt and pants while Sniper dug through his cabinets, and was sat cross-legged and mostly-naked by the time he got back and sat down again. Scout’s eyes locked on to the bottle he had in hand. Different kind of lube than he had, which shouldn’t have surprised him, but it did. Did Sniper go to like, a specific place for sex stuff? Was there a specific place anywhere near them?

“Awright, would you rather try and muddle through this yourself, or should I give it a go? I know what I’m doing, might make it easier the first time if I take over,” Sniper explained, also tugging off his shirt and undershirt in steady motions.

“Uh. You, probably,” Scout shrugged, face heating up. He shifted. “Uh. How should I—?”

Sniper cut him off by just guiding Scout back into straddling his lap, guiding his underwear down his hips until Scout got the hint and stripped those off too. Sniper didn’t stare, although he did take a moment to tease at the inside of Scout’s thigh with one calloused thumb. “Legs as apart as you can,” he said, starting to lube up his fingers, getting it nice and warm.

Scout did his best, balancing himself with hands on Sniper’s shoulders, trying to find a comfortable position. His position was immediately made more comfortable by Sniper’s other hand putting down the bottle to instead take hold of his dick, giving light, testing strokes until Scout started trying to rock forward in earnest for more. He didn’t actually have much leverage, but Sniper at least caught on and started stroking in earnest.

He gave a final squeeze before he pulled that hand away to brace on Scout’s ass and spread him open a little, and his fingers—slicked and now also warm after the pause—slid down across a much wider expanse than Scout figured was totally necessary, an inch or so below his tailbone down to just at the place where his balls met his body. And for some reason he lingered even longer at the space just below his entrance, fingertips pressing in and kneading hard, and Scout squirmed at it, feeling oddly sensitive. It felt good, definitely, but also just... a weird kind of good. Not a bad weird, just—

“You’ll need to relax a bit,” Sniper said, gravelly from next to his ear, and Scout took a few deep breaths, relaxing further with each exhale. Sniper hummed approval, and then he ran the pads of his fingers briskly over Scout a few times, and...

Okay. Okay, clearly Sniper had done this before, because he used a good amount of pressure but it didn’t feel uncomfortable at all, just... and he didn’t know why he expected it to hurt, because again, Sniper was the one who had experience with this, so of course he—

Scout blinked once and twice with confusion when Sniper shifted his hold on Scout, looping an arm around his waist to help steady him while his hand moved, now tucking down beneath him to work at him from the front rather than the back, his palm brushing incidentally against Scout’s balls in a way that was lovely if unexpected.

“What’re...?” Scout started to ask, and was cut off by sucking air in through his teeth when Sniper’s fingers made contact again.

“Makes it easier,” Sniper explained quietly, simply. “Lean back a touch.”

Scout did, and almost wished he didn’t because then Sniper was looking at his face. Maybe his embarrassment showed, because Sniper leaned in to capture his lips briefly, and it did soothe him a little.

“It’ll help see if I’m doing it right if I can see your face,” he explained, which was fair enough that Scout nodded and fought the instinct to hide his face again.

He also fought the instinct to brace himself and tense when Sniper finally slipped just the smallest bit of his finger in, not even a centimeter, just enough to serve as a warning before he gave a proper push. And then he drew back and teased some more, and then he pressed back in again.

Overall, Scout was a little confused with how long it all was taking. Usually it was more of a show up, blow the guy, get blown, get offered a cigarette and refuse, head back to base kind of thing. But now Sniper was really lingering, really taking his time, going almost too slowly. But also Scout appreciated the slowness, but also Scout didn’t know where to put his hands, but also—

“You awright?” Sniper asked, and when had he gotten that far in? He was practically up to the second knuckle of his finger, and it didn’t hurt, not at all, if anything it felt good. “...Scout?”

“Yeah. Yeah, it’s good,” Scout answered, because it was, even if he didn’t really understand how.

“Good,” Sniper said, and shifted how he was holding Scout a little bit, and then he was pushing just a little bit further and curling his finger, once, then twice, and he was glad Sniper had moved to hold on a little tighter because Scout almost lost his balance with the way he jumped on the third press as he felt—

Oh. Oh, okay. So... maybe he’d been doing things wrong a little bit. Because he’d been—

A shaky swear tumbled out of his lips as Sniper repeated the motion more gently a few more times.

—because he’d been kind of looking for this feeling specifically and he’d just thought maybe it was made up or something but clearly it fuckin’ wasn’t because—

“Ready for another, you think?” Sniper asked, pulling him out of his own head just a little bit.

“I ‘unno,” Scout managed, words slurring together, unable to get his head together enough to answer. “Am I?”

“You feel ready,” Sniper replied, demonstrating with another smooth slide, and Scout panted his way through that shakily before Sniper spoke again. “Not hurting?”

Scout hummed out in the negative.

“Awright,” Sniper said, and pulled back out, and slid back in again with a second fingertip joining the first.

Slow going again, subtle little motions, and Sniper worked his thumb in counterpoint to those motions, little presses and kneads against that place beneath his balls that had felt all nice earlier, and it felt even better now, made him hum all the more. And he only had the leverage to rock back into it a little bit, but even then Sniper pulled back until he went still and relaxed again, then he set in, and Scout tried to keep himself in check, tried not to jerk his hips.

“Feels good, does it?” Sniper asked, and Scout opened his eyes—when had he closed them?—and saw that Sniper was smirking a little bit. Scout just nodded, and Sniper’s smirk widened. “This how to get you to shut up, then?”

“Whatever,” Scout managed, not exactly his snappiest comeback but also literally all he could think to say, his entire head feeling hazy and pleasure mounting like electricity.

“Just that this is the only time you don’t run your damn mouth like you’re trying to earn a trophy for it,” Sniper drawled, and now he had two fingers to curl and press, to knead just right with, to make Scout’s legs shake as he circled and pressed with expertise afforded by experience. “Only time you shut up is when I’m two fingers deep or buggering that pretty little mouth of yours.”

Scout shivered hard, couldn’t stiffle a sound of pleasure in time, and dipped his head to hide his face in Sniper’s shoulder, but that just made Sniper turn his head to mutter directly into Scout’s ear.

“Lovely thing, really are gorgeous like this,” Sniper continued, and Scout couldn’t deny that this was a lot, maybe even too much, having Sniper’s attention so firmly centered on him. “Being spread open and moaning for more, could really get used to seeing this.”

“Fuck, fuck,” Scout choked out, rocking back hard into the fingers, and this time Sniper allowed it. “Fuck, I, if you’re gonna—try to fuck me—then hurry the fuck up already—“

He cut himself off with a startled moan as Sniper’s hand moved from around his waist to instead grip at his erection boldly, not pumping or moving, letting the motion of Scout rocking back do all the work for him. “You won’t last that long,” Sniper replied, and Scout tried to protest for only a second or two before deciding that Sniper was right. “Maybe I get you off like this another time or two before we get to that. Get you used to it.”

Scout usually would’ve had something to say to that, but as it was all he could do was rock with more desperation, noises rising in volume.

“Hold on tight,” Sniper warned, “and don’t bite your tongue. Careful, now. Easy.”

And when Scout came it was intense, so much more intense than he was used to, and he felt it throbbing through his whole body, and he felt utterly spent when he finally came out the other side.

And Sniper gave him a few slow strokes to coax out the last sharp pangs of pleasure before he wrapped his arm back around Scout’s waist again to help support his weight. His other hand, while largely still, didn’t move, which Scout was beyond okay with.

Sniper started talking quietly. “Now I’m going to stay in for a moment just so you know what that feels like,” he said, speaking slowly, which was admittedly something Scout appreciated just then, brain absolute mush. “And it’ll start to feel uncomfortable, but I want you to know what that feels like and how fast that happens.”

He was right. It was a short moment or two later when Scout’s thighs tensed involuntarily as the shift happened from “good so good never stop so good” to “too much ow what the fuck”. And it wasn’t like, ridiculously bad, not like outright painful, but he still didn’t like it and after a second he moved to pull away when it was clear a Sniper wasn’t going to.

Then he glanced off to one side at the clock and froze when he realized they’d been at it for something in the ballpark of forty minutes.

Sniper, who was midway through fishing off the side of the bed to grab a shirt or something to wipe off his hands, spotted his expression and stopped moving. “What’s wrong?” he asked.

“Nothin’ wrong,” Scout said quickly, flushing. “Just, uh... didn’t think time would fly like that.”

Sniper huffed half a laugh, resuming in wiping off his hands. “Well, rather not rush,” he shrugged. “Didn’t want to turn you off of it entirely, and that’s easy to muck up and get hurt with.”

“Fuck, how many guys did you have to get with to figure out how to do that so good?” Scout asked, head starting to clear a little bit with each passing moment.

“Enough,” Sniper answered. “Been on either end enough times to know how to do things right, and how easy it is to go too quick and make someone nervous about trying again.”

“Well I definitely wanna try again,” Scout said, only a little embarrassed by his own enthusiasm. “Next time?”

“We’ll see if there’s a next time if there continues to be a this time, mate,” Sniper said, raising an eyebrow. “Planning on getting me off at some point?”

“Oh, yeah, right, uh—uh, I can blow you?” Scout offered quickly.

“Go on then,” Sniper urged, and Scout scrambled to shift their positions.

And the next day Sniper pulled him aside in the morning—a bit of a novelty, since Sniper didn’t tend to talk to anyone at all if he could help it unless they were one-on-one or it was necessary for the job—and asked if he was doing alright, and admitted that he noticed Scout was standing a bit awkwardly, and Scout socked him on the shoulder for not saying anything about being sore after. Sniper, to his credit, apologized. Scout, like an idiot, absolutely forgot about it the next time anyways.

[a-lame-follower]

Prompt: Double-Date Pairings: Glimmadora, Entrapdak WARNING: Bad writing. (Hey, at least I'm honest)

If they lived through this, Glimmer mused to herself as she shifted the basket from one arm to the other, she was going to seriously consider outlawing puppy dog eyes. To some that might seem drastic, but She had proven far too susceptible to its influence in the past. This situation was just one layer of icing on a multi-tiered cake made with bad decisions and baked in regret.

"I don't know how she convinced me this was a good idea." She said, more to herself than to her companion. "It's not like Hordak ever shown any inclination or desire to connect with others before...right?"

She let her words trail off into a question. For all the negative influence the man had previously had over her life, she couldn't say that she actually knew him personally, not really. Before the planetary bioweapon snafu, the catastrophic mess that was Horde Prime, and before whatever it was that was going on between him and Entrapta, it had been simple. All she'd needed to know was that he'd murdered her father and was a threat to the peace of Eternia. Now, with her father suddenly back from the grave and Hordak relinquishing his title as number one big scary warlord, she didn't know what to think anymore. Well, she thought she'd like to go back to the good old days where things made sense. Back then, all she’d had to do was attack people who attacked her. Inconveniently, that option was no longer available for her. For whatever reason, the fates had decided she had to be "mature" now. Fate could go throw itself off a cliff.

"No, you're right," Adora said, holding a basket of her own. Her voice was a little too cheerful to be genuine. "Hordak has all the charming sociability of a rock."

"Are you sure that's not unfair to the rock?" Glimmer said, smiling and reaching out her free hand to let her partner know she valued her company. Adora seemed grateful for the gesture and clasped the young Queen's hand in her own.

"I stand corrected. " the blonde said after that momentary pause. "I guess I owe the rocks an apology.'

"You could. " she agreed, "But then you'd spend the rest of your life apologizing." She sighed dramatically. "We'd probably never have the time to be alone together again. "

"I can do both!" The taller of that two women objected, before smiling to show she knew she was merely being teased. "But, I guess that is a lot of rocks." She acknowledged sheepishly, those sweet blue eyes meeting hers. "Promise not to tell on me?"

"It'll be our little secret." Glimmer assured before filling the distance between them, standing up on her too toes to capture Adora's lips. Smiling fondly down at the young Queen’s actions, Adora leaned in closer, silently encouraging her partner to seal their pact with a kiss. She felt those gentle lips gently press against her own when-

"They apologize to rocks." A voice growled, practically dripping with condescending disbelief. "How is it that my soldiers have not defeated you?"

-They were rudely interrupted by the arrival of the two people they had been waiting for in the first place. Adora grew rigid, dropping her basket and raising the sword she had used since she'd shattered her old one. Releasing Glimmer’s hand, her body settled into fighting stance, partially sheilding Glimmer from the man’s sight. She might have attacked if Glimmer hadn’t taken that moment to gently stroke her warrior’s arm to settle her. It would help no one if they acted rashly. The princess frowned, clearly uncomfortable in the former warlord's presence.

"Hello, Hordak." Glimmer said with a peace so artificial she knew it fooled no one. She could control the wince that twisted her face as those unnaturally bright red eyes settled on her. She was acutely aware that Adora still hadn't lowered her weapon.

"No, no!" A nasal voice chirped cheerfully. "Obviously, they don't make a habit out of apologizing to just any naturally occurring solid mass or aggregate of minerals or mineraloid matter!" She moved closer to them, using her long purple pigtails to give her additional height."Otherwise, Adora would have already known the sheer magnitude of the assignment she was setting for herself and wouldn't have needed Glimmer to convince her it was a fool's errand." She hummed after a second of stillness, her gaze turning thoughtful. "Though I'm sure you both would have an excellent time spelunking in the caves beneath Bright Moon together." She clapped her hands enthusiastically. "I know I've enjoyed allmost all of my visits to Dryl's mines!"

"It's great to see you, Entrapta." Glimmer said, biting her lip. "I'll keep your idea in mind, but I'm pretty sure my dad would disapprove if I went spelunking on sacred ground with my girlfriend."

"That hardly seems fair." Entrants frowned at her. "Speleology and the geosciences are fascinating; " she waved her arms in palpable enthusiasm. "For all we know, your father could be hindering some marvel of scientific progress!"

Wary of saying something that might result in further association with the fright zone's former despot(like almost volunteering to go on a trip with Entrapta to visit said mines), Glimmer paused. Unsure where she she should take the conversation she looked to Adora for assistance. Instead, she found her lady locked in a staredown with the smirking pointy eared-eared goblin man himself. Apparently Hordak had no intention of making this easier on anyone else so it would be up to them to be obliging in addition to well-mannered.  She sighed deeply through her nose. Then she reached out to touch her protector's arm, tentatively advancing on her as one might approach an injured stable cat.

Sensing her movement, those stunning blue eyes sought her gaze and, after an instant's hesitancy, permitted the touch. Adora was stiff, but she'd expected that from her. This was harder on Adora than it was on her, after all.

He might not have been directly involved in the appalling treatment Adora had suffered during her time in the Horde. However, Hordak had been the Horde's leader on Eternia. As such, he still represented some of the worst it had to offer. What that might entail she was still learn at. Most were quiet things she could only guess at from cryptic words and dark hints left like breadcrumbs leading to a witch's cottage. Still, Adora had voluntarily offered to tag along when Glimmer had told her that Entrapta had somehow managed to wrangle the young Queen into going on an evening picnic with Hordak. She hadn't been required to accompany her, but she'd done it anyway. Her selflessness was just another reason among many to love her.

However, she thought as she brought her hand out to touch the sword, if they were going to be playing nice with Hordak, it was a little counterproductive to have their weaponry drawn and ready for the slaughtering.

It took a second or two, but upon getting the intended message from the smaller woman’s weighted stare, a pout formed on the other girl's adorable little face. It took every inch of Glimmer’s free will not to giggle at the presence of She Ra's greatest weapon.

Fortuitously, Adora understood the value of civility in potentially explosive situations such as this and sheathed the sword before Glimmer's free will could shatter like fine china in the face of her onslaught. Still, it was a very near thing. She couldn't even muster up the composure left to resist the urge to reach up and tousle Adora's fluffy hair. She received a dirty look under thoroughly rumpled bangs as a reward for her wicked act of treachery. Regrettably, she found it endearing rather than chastising, so she let out a mischievous little chuckle that earned a small forgiving smile from her girlfriend and questioning glances from their audience.

"Do you think they've forgotten we're here?" Entrapta asked the man standing beside her in a stage whisper. "I wouldn't normally question it, but they've been silent for several minutes and keep making strange faces at each other."

"They are still quite young," Hordak answered, voice drier than the crimson wastes at high noon. "I wouldn't be surprised in the least to discover they still struggle with object permanence."

" 'They' are very aware of your presence and would prefer you not speak to them like they are children," Adora grumbled, pointedly ignoring the scoff her statement received.

"As you say."

"Anyway." Glimmer said clapping her hands together with a pointed cough. "You wanted us to join you, Entrapta?" She hoped it wasn’t obvious to anyone else how hard she was struggling to regain control of the situation before one of the more volatile members of their party said something that set the other off. If they broke ties with one another she wanted it to be for a good reason. Bombing out of polite conversation 101 was not the droids she was looking for.

"Yes!" said a grinning Entrapta. Minutes before, the older woman had been growing visibly anxious at the heightening tensions she'd inadvertently played a part in inciting. At her name, her face had broadened with her good cheer, making no attempts to disguise her delight for the possible distraction. "Well, I was talking to Hordak the other day while we were recalibrating the base's underwater thermometers after feeding the fish when I learned that he's never been on a picnic before, and-"

"Wait, so he just suddenly decided he wanted to go on one?" Adora asked, confused. “I’ve had picnics described to me before and they always sounded way less enjoyable than they actually are.”

“Um...well, I can’t speak for what you’ve heard as I wasn’t there to witness it.”  Entrapta said, eyebrows furrowing as she stared at her hands rather than make eye-contact. “ But I can say there are numerous benefits to going on a picnic.” She smiled at Adora. “If you’d like I can show you the power point presentation I made for him later.”

Glimmer stared at the former tyrant incredulously, trying and failing to think of how that might come up in conversation between the two. Or how she’d managed to sit someone like Hordak down to a lecture. Or what kind of fish lived in the fright zone. That led to wondering what fish they kept and what they might feed them, before she stopped her mind from wandering in what was very likely a dangerous area. For however long they were to be temporary allies, some things she just didn’t want to know.

"She is very persuasive." He admitted, giving his partner a side-eye, which was met with an encouragingly grin that was nearly blinding in its warmth. Part of Glimer wondered if she was only imagining what appeared to be a subtle flush of heat settling around his ears. Hordak’s eyes glanced quickly from Entrapta to Glimmer then back again. His face grew more determined, as if daring the Queen to laugh.

"I can be that, yeah." she said softly before perking up. “Especially when the data speaks for itself!”

His thin lips upturned, cautiously returning the look she had sent his way. It was a small action, but still, Glimmer had to avert her eyes to avoid letting them witness her second-hand embarrassment. Was this how kids felt when their siblings flirted with people in public? She glanced at Adora and was thankful to know she wasn't the only one feeling discomfited by this. She was not looking forward to when Frosta began considering the possibility of making potential romantic connections.

'Anyway! " Entrapta continued, oblivious to their distress. "I couldn't let that stand when the solution was so readily available." She gave them a meaningful look.

"So you...thought of us? " Adora asked, her confusion obvious.

"Well, not you specifically," Entrapta corrected with a shrug, then grimaced when her friend visibly deflated. "But I am very glad to see you here Adora!"

"That's... That's good to know Entrapta."

"I thought Bow and Glimmer would be the best people to ask since they have prior experience with acquainting and Horde soldiers with everyday civilian activities. " She turned her head to the side, briefly concealing her face with her mask and turning her body away from them. "Well, I tried to ask Bow, but er, his parents got to the line first, and... let's just say they don't approve of Bow talking to Hordak. "

Entrapta drooped further, almost seeming to shrink before their eyes, neither girl knew how to respond to the usually cheerful scientist's change of demeanor. Glimmer doubted they had said anything against Entrapta; they were both caring, empathetic men the universe was better off having. Still, she wouldn't be surprised if they had tried to warn her to stay away from Hordak. Maybe it was a little hypocritical considering where she was and whom she was meeting but She knew she would certainly have banned any child of hers from associating with people who were friends with war criminals. Those two were kinder than she was by far and any hurt feelings were doubtlessly done on accident. But that still meant there were hurts in need of mending. After everything those two had been through, emotions ran deep. She made a mental note to ask Bow about what had happened later.

Talking about what had happened had seemed to take the wind out of Entrapta's figurative sails, and it wasn't until Hordak had marched forward and almost tenderly pushed her against his chest that Entrapta seemed to pull herself together. Glimmer might have been inclined to call what he was doing a hug, had the red eyes not promised death to everything she held dear if she so much as whispered that he might be capable of sentimental feeling.

One day she going to discover his secret to making common actions seem threatening and use that dark talent for something constructive.

"Anyway, with Bow out of the picture that left Glimmer." The Queen wondered if she should be offended that she was the second choice but reasoned that out of the two of them, Entrapta had probably connected with Bow better than herself.

"Thankfully, her dad was out when I called, so I didn't have to worry about protective parenting instincts making things all needlessly confusing." She smiled at Glimmer, unspoken gratitude shining in her eyes. She took a moment to lament the fact that she was being made to feel guilty for second-guessing this trip when the person doing it had no idea she was even doing.

"I'd have taken him by myself, but, well," She could no longer meet their gazes, and seemed content instead to make herself a permanent fixture to Hordak's tunic. "I haven't been on a picnic with people who aren't... y'know... a robot in years, and I wanted to make sure his first time was his best time, so to speak."

"I didn't know who else to turn to, and I acknowledge this request is a lot to ask of you, but..." Her voice was so low, they had to strain their ears to hear her. "I hope it's okay that I asked you to come?"

Silence reigned on both sides as she finished talking. Hordak was glaring at them, commanding them without words to consent to whatever Entrapta asked. Glimmer rolled her eyes at the clone to let him know that his intimidations, impressive as his figure might be, neither frightened her not influenced her decision-making in the slightest. A grunt of what could have been either irritation or amusement was her only response.

Having attempted to assert herself, she decided to put the man out of her mind for now. She was here for Entrapta, not him. Despite their complicated history, they shared a bond.

But... She wasn't the only one who mattered. She stretched out her arm to get Adora's attention. Her partner sent a questioning glance towards Glimmer then went back to watching the scientist with no small amount of concern.

"Are you sure about being here?" Glimmer asked, speaking quietly to ensure they weren't overheard. "She doesn't need both of us. "

"Where you go, so do I," Adora swore, face inscrutable as she grabbed the hand she'd released upon the arrival of the second half of their group.

"I can choose not to do this then." Glimmer said, lowering her eyes to their now connected hands. This was a terrible judgment to make, but she knew that if she was forced to choose, she'd pick Adora over Entrapta. She was her partner. Awful as it might make her feel, her companion's trauma came first. "I don't want you doing anything that will hurt you, Adora."

"You forget something," Adora said in a voice so low she nearly missed it. "Entrapta's my friend too."

Glimmer froze then raised her head to meet Adora's challenging stare. The blonde narrowed her eyes in the face of her companion's reluctance and nodded. The young Queen smiled at the further confirmation of the woman's courage. They might have more than a few reservations about associating with Hordak in any fashion, but they wanted to be there to support their friend where they could.

"We'd be honored to share this meal with you. "

Entrapta's shriek of happiness could have shattered glass.

She wasn't entirely sure, but as their friend began eagerly showing them a neatly catagorized list of all the food she'd had her servants prepare for the evening's events, she thought she might have caught a glimpse of what may have even been gratitude on Hordak's face. Whatever it had been was expertly hidden behind a deliberately neutral mask when she turned around to check.

[cawcawpeasants]

Hi it's me I'm new but can you do one we're asta joins the Dark triad and how whould they treat him I know it's stupid but I couldn't think of any thing else

Hey there love. Thank you for all your kind messages, they really made me happym so I wanted to return your kindness by getting my butt out of this slump!! And sorry for the wait, I was on an excavation, but now I have Internet again and I had a long time to think about this.

So, this could be a relly great Idea for a kickass AU work. Like, what if Asta met the dark triad early on in the story, lets say even before the magic knights entrance exam. Canonically he met Fanzel around that time, too, so we’re even going to place this happening before all that. 

It starts with the big What If the Spade people had their Informationnetwork better under control and had way better spies than they appear to have right now (cause yall, how coukd they have missed Asta. He was in the Newspaper for gods sake. How bad a spy do you have to be to miss that? And for a warmongering nation, they really are way too uninformed about strenghts and their enemies. Little pet peeve of mine.) 

BUT! Now, they hear of this kid who got a great and strong grimoire in a place where that doesnt happen. First they hear all about Yuno and are like, yeah, okay, new blimp on the radar, we gotta calculate this new potentially powerful enemy in, and then they get the news of Asta and how he came to have a weird and shady 5 leaf clover grimoire. And now at least Dantes interest is piqued. 

So, they decide to check it out, cause who might that be? Which Demon has found a new host? And how did it happen without them hearing about a big catastrophic event in Clover, which is usually Zagreds, the word demons, preferred method of getting what he wants, 

Things are so interesting that the Zogratis siblings go on a road trip together, to find out more and maybe cause some menace on the way, in case they get bored. Its gonna be prime family bonding time!

They meet Asta under the skull, where he always trains, and they see him basically just lugging this big sword around but...not using either magic or the devils power. Something is weird here. Vanica also comments that the kid is kinda hunky with some nice features, but kinda veery very tiny, and she loses a bit of interest already. Zenon appreciates a dude who knows his workout, but the no magic factor makes him think of Asta as kinda weak, way too weak to be a Devil host, and he tells  Dante that it might be a fluke, that their information was wrong, and that they should just go and find the responsible spy and torture him, for having them come out all this way just to see a kid play at being a knight and yell a lot. 

Dante still has an uneasy feeling, that it might be a little more than just that, but he also has to agree that Asta has not shown any sign of devil powers, so he cant even ask lucifero which Demon slipped past their Network and got stranded in Clover, and this part of clover of all places too. Really, no self respecting lord of hell would do this to themselves, not even Zagred who maybe got a little desperate over the millenia.

Just as they are about to turn and leave, a voice comes up to them, asking them what they are doing. and yes, it comes up to them, cause they are in their usual and very very stealthy and absolutely not suspicious manner flying half a kilometre over the ground, maybe a little to the left, so they are guarded by the shades of the columns, and bickering with each other about first going to torture the spies, or getting something to eat before that. Just ye normal roadtrip talks.

Anyways, Asta heard them or sensed them (my boys instincts are crazy, like damn), and his gut feeling tells him something is off wht the weirdly fancy dressed floating strangers with seemingly cold eyes and spade-symbols and regalia all on them. He might not be the smartest noodle in the pot, but even he knows when he sees people in a place they dont belong.

Yeah, so, from here on out things can go a great many ways, Zenon would probably suggest they get rid of him and also that would make at least for a little amusement for now. Vanica would probably agree, cause at least they would be doing ANYTHing but staying there and doing nothing but watch a little boy. Or they could get some snacks, shes kinda hungry, for the 300th time today. 

Dante tho, he still wants his questions answered. So why not ask? He floats down towards Asta, and is all like, Hello there young man, that is a fine sword youre having there, pray tell where did you get that?

And Asta is like, wow, someone likes my sword? And this little angel boy just happily wants to help people, especially those 3 nobles who seem like they got hella damn lost (and not like they are a nightmare for many captains and Julius, I mean, can you imagine all the work thats gonna have to happen, when they find out that the dark triad can just enter Clover all willy nilly?? Oh, Marx is gonna haunt them with papers for months! And Augustus voice is gonna shriek through all the castle in that unbeliievable high octave about how useless they all are, and yeah, things just aint gonna be great, but Asta doesnt know, this blessed summer child is not the brightest light at times)

Cause sister lily and father Orsi raised him right he shows Dante all about his sword and his grimoire, and Dante sees it and probably goes like !!!. And then he knows that Asta really is a demons host, but he doesnt seem to have realized it himself. How strange. He tries to ask Asta a few questions, but the kiddo just really doesnt know a thing and after a while of talking around the topic, he tries the more direct route

“Say Boy, have you ever heard a Voice inside your head? Telling you things about your magic and what to do?”

“Yeah, Yuno says thats called thinking and that people should do that more often.”

“...right. But was there one besides the regular Voice you hear when you think?”

“No? Was there supposed to be one before I got the grimoire?”

“...Nevermind”

Asta also couldnt remember ever seeing a weird figure, well not specifically because “not before you guys showed up. I think the weirdest figure is probably Yuno, way too damn handsome that jerk!”

Or sensing another Magic mingle with his, “What do you mean this isnt my magic?”

Finally, Dante asks Asta if he ever heard about the Devil, and “Yeah of course, I was raised in a church, and Sister Lily tells us all the best good night stories! Im gonna mary one day and then we tell each other all those every night!!” And then Asta got stuck thinking about his sister Lily,and Dante had to realize that its no use. 

He could now either kidnap Asta and train him under the dark triad, or he could leave him be and keep his tabs on the strange kid with big dreams. Yeah, well, kidnapping Asta is, if the conversation with him was any clue, not gonna be an easy and quiet thing, and its gonna be a political mess, a headache to boot too. Also Zenon and Vanica are probably going to try kill Asta if he gets too much for them anyways, so i would be useless. He sighed, and shook his head, and shot Asta a fake smile

“Thank you for answering all my questions, boy, have a nice training session for whatever it is youre trying o achieve here.”

“Oh, Im training to become a Magic knight in a few months!”

“Ah”

“Im gonna become the Wizard king! (✧ ∇ ✧)”

“...Well, good luck with that, Im going home now”

“Thank you, also your friends left like 20 minutes ago”

Cue unhappy Dante. But at least they learned something...I think? And they went and cleaned up that Information pipe line real quick and then got something to eat.

Yeah so, I tried. Im still not back to peak form, but this was fun! Poor Dante was probably hella frustrated afterwards, but Asta really jsut doesnt know xD and later on, Asta is constantly wih people who are pretty sure to recognize the Spade royalty. I mean, they dont make it particulary hard. And Asta has his goal set, and he takes the most direct route to get there.

im pretty sure, as things are now, Zenon and Vanica are going to be way more interested too, but I really need to know a lot more about Vanica. 

Anyways, hope you enjoyed, and thank you again for sending me those words of encouragement! Have a lovely day!!

[thenexusofsouls]

Which of these muses do you relate to the most, mun?

{i am the caretaker of souls} Welp... time to get super embarrassing, haha. Um... honestly the muse I can relate to the most out of all the ones on this blog is... Tony Stark. Now... I am not a genius, heh. Or a billionaire. I know nothing about robotics, very little about physics, next to nothing about nanotechnology other than what the Metal Gear Solid series taught me, lol, but... at a core human level, Tony and I have several things in common. All negative, heh. I’ll share this, even though it was pretty embarrassing for me, because I find it interesting on a psychological level.

So... I had never watched the Iron Man movies at first. I saw all the Avengers and Captain America movies, even Captain Marvel, a couple Thor movies, Black Panther is next on my list of ones to catch up on. Anyway... I always hated Tony. I thought he was a shallow, crass, arrogant asshole who only cared about himself. I really disliked him almost to the point of hate. Really loving characters like Wanda and Vision from the comics and coming to love Pietro in the movies didn’t help, because there’s a lot of anti-Tony sentiment there or at least confusion. But then I thought okay... this is a major part of the franchise that I’m missing... and... I should just watch these movies and get it over with.

The first Iron Man... was okay. Good story. Learned a lotta stuff about him I didn’t know. He was never a character I read in the comics, so I’m not familiar with him outside of MCU. Then I watched Iron Man 2. Ugh. I really didn’t like this movie, haha. But Natasha was in it, so... score. Then I watched Iron Man 3... and I had exactly five panic attacks... and my perception of Tony completely changed.

I have chronic anxiety. It manifests mostly as social anxiety, a fear of loss of control, a fear of public embarrassment, mild germophobia (an interesting thing for a microbiologist to have, but whatevs), and something called catastrophizing, whereby I fret, worry, mull, and stress over every possible poor outcome to a situation and anything even remotely bad that could happen to me in the foreseeable future. Usually in place of sleep, heh. It wastes a lot of psychic energy, lemme tell you, and if it gets bad enough, I have panic attacks. Before I saw Iron Man 3, I never considered myself a person who could be triggered by anything. I’m going with the actual real definition of triggering here, as in resulting in a panic attack, flashback, or other severe psychological reaction to something. Apparently, I was wrong.

After watching the movie (I’ve only seen it once... would love to try to watch it again) and having five panic attacks (I average maybe one or two a month, and I just had five inside of two hours, so... this was notable, and I’m defining a panic attack as elevated heart rate, sweating, ringing ears, tingling feeling in my scalp, sometimes tears, hands shaking, feeling cold all over, and teeth chattering), I was more fascinated than upset, honestly. Panic attacks are a weird thing for me because very often I will feel rational and calm mentally but my body is going haywire, so I’m sitting here watching this movie like... why is this bothering me? I’m obviously bothered, but I don’t know why.

So I asked a friend of mine who had gone to school for psychology, and he asked well, when did they happen? I don’t remember all of them, but for example, they occurred during the scene where Tony has a nightmare and Pepper basically calls him immature and leaves him despite the fact that he’s begging her to stay. And then again when he has a panic attack while driving and has to stop the car. And then again when that little boy kept pressing him like, “Are you on medication? Should you be? Are you upset? Are you panicking? What are you going to do now?” and he just wouldn’t stop and Tony kept getting more and more panicky.

I have always been a very empathetic person, whether I wanted to be or not. I see those starving children and abused animals on those TV commercials and I cry every time. I watch movies and cry because I see other people crying. It’s terrible. Well, apparently, my friend thought that I was empathizing with Tony during moments when he was the most not okay, and that was triggering my own anxiety. When Tony would have a panic attack, I would. When he would lose control of a situation, I would panic about it myself. When the coping mechanisms and carefully constructed social facade fell and he was actually genuine with someone only to be rejected harshly, it upset me immensely and triggered another attack. It made a lot of sense to me... both my own anxiety and my empathy coming together to both sympathize with and be triggered by this character who has some very severe mental health issues.

From that moment on, I saw Tony differently. I went back and re-watched the Avengers movies, the Captain America movies... and I was able to see him in a completely different light. Looking through the lens of my own struggles with anxiety, coping mechanisms, and trying to look and act normal when I’m not okay, I suddenly realized that I understood Tony a lot more than I ever wanted to, heh. It was shortly after that that I realized he’d become a muse for me, when I couldn’t stop thinking and analyzing and teasing apart the mess that is his psychology and making sense of it... which is easier for me to do than I ever would have expected. 

Aaaand I don’t have a nice neatly wrapped ending to this rant, except to say that Tony was a muse I never expected to have, but now I am so protective of him (and don’t ship him with Pepper because reasons) and I have really come to love writing him. He definitely is the muse I relate to the most on THIS blog. On ALL blogs, I would say Wanda Maximoff might be the one I relate to the most out of all the canon characters I write. But yeah, for now I will stick to just muses on this blog.