#something about sneezy kisses just makes me Melt

[lavsnz]

front cuddles with a significant other who is kissing your cheek repeatedly, but stops to sneeze. they don’t pull away or turn the other way, they sneeze right on your cheek. they sniffle & then go back to giving kisses. you bless them, & they smile softly & whisper a “thank you” in between kisses

[cheetahsprints]

What You Needed to Hear

                                                            *

Summary: A late night visitor gives Catra a new perspective.

Rating: T (for mild suggestive themes)

Word Count: ~1.9k

Pairings: Catra/Adora, Minor Implied Glimmer/Bow

Additional Info: Catra’s POV, In-universe, Canon Compliant (ish), post-season 5, timey wimey magic wagic, camping, vague circumstances, fluff, mild angst, established relationship<3

If you like this, check out: Soulswap

                                                           *

It still feels like a dream that she expects to wake up from any moment. Adora leans on her as she laughs at some inside joke between her, Glimmer, and Bow. She pauses and shoots an anxious look at Catra. She merely smirks and glides her hand along Adora’s back to stroke her neck. The campfire crackles between them all, brushing Adora’s face with a flattering light. She’s long past her silly jealousy over Adora’s friends, because she has something with Adora they will never be privileged to have.

“Let’s hope the blanket monster isn’t stalking tonight,” Catra murmurs. Adora snorts and turns pink.

Glimmer gives Bow a questioning look, and he shrugs. They don’t ask. Catra rolls the memory in her mind - they’d been very young. She doesn’t quite remember what age. Adora was thrashing in her sleep, and she had kicked Catra, waking her up. In retaliation, Catra draped a blanket over her shoulders. She had called to Adora in a ghostly voice. As soon as she opened her eyes, Catra had stalked toward her, swaying from side to side.

Adora had released a blood-curdling scream that woke everyone up and made Shadow Weaver appear as though from thin air. They’d been harshly reprimanded, but it became a little joke Catra would occasionally use to cheer her up. It still amazed her how despite all the bad that truly happened during their days in the Horde, they could share somewhat fond memories. 

Catra floats on the gentleness of the evening as idle conversation continues. She occasionally joins in with insight, but it’s mostly smart remarks - which serve another purpose of making Adora chuckle. It’s the kind of continuous moment that makes her take a mental step back to appreciate it all. 

“Catra,” Adora says. Across from them, Glimmer has curled against Bow, and they’ve nodded off a bit. Bow is still semi-alert, Catra can tell by the way his muscles are tensed. 

“Hmm?” Catra turns and realizes Adora is staring at her. Catra swallows thickly, captivated by steel blue eyes. “What are looking at, dummy?”

“Just you. I like looking at you.”

Catra feels herself flush. She starts to look down, but Adora softly grasps her chin. “Don’t do that.”

“What do you want from me? To thank you for - for -” Catra trails off, wincing at the harshness of her tone. “Sorry.”

“It’s okay. You’re not used to it. But you don’t need to hide, got it?”

“Got it.”

Adora asks, “By the way why do you call me that? I know it isn’t to be mean. Dummy, I mean.”

“You’re my dummy,” Catra answers with a slight purr. “It’s an ironic endearment, I do think you tend to be a doofus, but in a good way.”

“Do - do you want me to call you anything aside from just your name?” Adora bites her lip. “I feel weird, not having something cute to call you, but I can’t think of anything clever. What am I supposed to call you? Smarty?”

Catra rolls her eyes. “It doesn’t matter. I like the sound of my name when you say it. But you can call me whatever... sweetie, darling, dearest, butt-head, sneezy, fuzzy pants - er - just not kitten. Coming from you anything else’s fine.”

“Sweetie...” The word is mumbled by Adora, who combs her fingers through Catra’s hair - it’s grown out a bit but still short - and settles her hands to cup behind Catra’s twitching ears. An anticipatory shiver travels up her spine.

Adora kisses her. Catra is jolted for a second before she relaxes and melts into the gesture. Despite being the one to initiate - well - everything - she continues to be taken aback by reciprocation. Catra deepens the kiss, and soon the fire isn’t the only thing that’s heated. Adora’s hand is trailing down her stomach, the other tightly gripping her thigh, when there’s a crashing noise and a pained grunt. Adora jerks away from her, glancing around wildly. Catra growls at the interruption. Her hearing keener, she adjusts an ear to pick up on a rustling noise. She whirls toward the sound.

“What’s the idea? Whoever you are, come out and face us coward,” Catra calls into the woods. A form materializes in the shadows. Catra can’t hold in a whimper. “Sh - Shadow -”

Adora - She Ra - steps in front of her, sword at the ready. Then, a familiar face appears - or rather mostly appears. Catra rubs her eyes - is she actually asleep? It’s her, but it’s not her. This façade has long hair, Horde garb, and half of her face and body are wrong - like some kind of glitch, like she’s being consumed by a void of space.

Hazy, contorted memories tickle the back of her mind. Glitch-Catra gazes at them with wide eyes. She whispers, “Where am I? What’s going on?”

Even her voice is distorted. Bow and Glimmer have woken up, and they’ve taken stances beside Adora. However, Adora relaxes. The She Ra persona disappears as Adora holds up placating hands. Glitch-Catra narrows her eyes and bares her teeth.

Glimmer questions, “What - what is this?!”

“My best guess would be a left over effect of the portal - it’s possible that during that time the Catra of the past briefly traveled forward in time before being yanked back. It was warping time and space, after all,” Bow states.

 “You!” Glitch-Catra points at Adora. “What have you done to me?!”

Glitch-Catra makes to leap at her. Even though Adora is perfectly capable of defending herself, Catra jumps in front of her. She rests her right hand on Adora’s right shoulder and pushes her slightly back. Her other hand is unfurled menacingly, claws glinting in the moonlight.

“Don’t even think about it,” Catra hisses.

Glitch-Catra blinks at her. “Wh - you’re protecting her?”

Glimmer steps forward, hand aglow. Bow notches an arrow. Glitch-Catra’s ears and tail stand on end as she looks back and forth between them. Catra shakes her head. “Stand down, I’ll deal with this.”

To her shock, they listen. They vanish from her peripheral vision, presumably behind Adora now. Somehow, she has gained their trust and respect. Glitch-Catra looks around, and then she stares at her right arm and flexes the darkened fingers. 

She rasps, “I - the portal. I really messed up didn’t I? Entrapta was right. I don’t know what’s wrong with me - what was I thinking?”

Having this reminder of her mistakes in front of her makes her insides painfully clench. She can’t help glancing back at Adora. Adora gently pushes her arm down and stands beside her. Catra takes a deep breath and slowly walks forward. Her hand is briefly caught by Adora’s and squeezed. Glitch-Catra raises her arms, claws out, as though to defend herself as Catra approaches.

“I won’t hurt you.”

“What... what about her?” Glitch-Catra peers over Catra’s shoulder, then their eyes meet again. Catra doesn’t answer. A memory, as sharp as a diamond and as frail as glass, pierces her mind. It’s disorienting, but she knows what she has to do. 

She wraps her arms around Glitch-Catra’s shoulders and pulls her close. The memory overlaps with the present. Catra murmurs, “It’s okay, Catra. It’s all going to be okay. You’ll be okay. You’re not alone.”

She holds her past self tight and rocks her side to side a little. She poured all the love that the Horde, that Shadow Weaver, and most importantly herself never gave or truly showed her into those words. She can remember how it sounded to hear them herself. She can picture it, the way her eyes had widened, then closed - the tears that seeped into the shoulder of her - her then future self. She can picture her past self looking up to see Adora’s face, and the reassuring smile that graces her countenance.

Catra pulls away. She resumes her place at Adora’s side. Adora slips her hand into Catra’s and intertwines their fingers. Catra quietly sighs and wraps her tail around Adora’s leg. Glitch-Catra’s eyes slowly travel to a stop at their interlocked hands. Her mouth falls open slightly - at the time Catra had thought it was some kind of portal-induced fever dream. She’d written it off and gone after Adora in a state of uncontrollable rage and confusion. Seeing her past self, how angry and lost she looked, it gives her a swell of emotion.

Yet, even thinking it was a dream, it was part of what gave her the courage - to try to make everything right, to confess her feelings. The trees behind Glitch-Catra and the ground beneath her seems to warp. Then, she’s gone. Catra collapses into Adora and nuzzles her collarbone. She distantly hears the other two exchanging whispers, probably about what just occurred.

“I’m proud of you,” Adora says, kissing her forehead as she brings her free hand up to cup Catra’s jaw.

“Uh, for what?”

“Being kind to yourself.”

Catra scoffs. “It was destined. I was in her place once. This is kind of paradoxical if you think about it too hard... And - and you know I’m sorry right? I can’t believe I almost destroyed the whole world being a petty bi-”

Adora strokes her jaw. “Like you said, it’s okay. Or it will be - because you’re changing, you’re improving, and you’re not isolating yourself by pushing everyone - including your own conscience - away.” 

Catra releases a shaky breath. She realizes she had begun to tear up. 

“Maybe it was a dream the first time. Maybe you made it real,” Adora continues, “I think you told yourself what you needed to hear, what you wanted so desperately to hear... not from anyone else, but you needed to validate yourself.”

“Don’t be such a sap,” Catra remarks, but she’s grinning. “It was definitely just the way you smiled at me.”

“Catra.”

“Okay, okay, you’re kind of right! Just don’t let it go to your head.”

“Hmm... that’s not really the head I’m thinking of,” Adora whispers, lips brushing her ear. Catra’s tail unravels and twitches behind her. She cackles at that.

After a while, the fire is put out. Bow takes first watch, climbing up a nearby boulder because he knows better than to be in earshot. Catra wastes no time crawling into Adora’s sleeping bag beneath their tent, warm bodies pressing together and mouths fervently re-discovering each other. Hopefully, she can exhaust Adora enough that she won’t get kicked tonight.

When the sun rises, it brings the end of Catra’s shift. She sways on the spot for a moment before going to rouse everyone else. Her and Adora’s activities went on longer than expected, then Catra made the mistake of staying awake to look at Adora sleeping and think about the future. Once Adora is next to her, Catra goes limp. Adora catches her before she hits the ground.

Chuckling, Adora says, “Was your shift really that tiring? You look like you fought a battalion by yourself.”

“Haven’t slept, brain wouldn’t shut up,” Catra grumbles. “Carry me.”

“What, no -”

“Carryyy meee.”

“But Glimmer is going to teleport us to -”

“Please.” Catra opens her eyes to give Adora the most pleading look she can muster. She flicks Adora’s leg with her tail. “I won’t ask for anything else the rest of the day.”

“Oh, fine, but only because I love you.”

“Mmm... love you too.” Catra catches Adora’s smile before she closes her eyes again, and she smiles back. She doubts she’ll ever get tired of hearing that. There’s a flash of light past Catra’s closed eyelids, and she feels herself adjusted into a bridal carry. Gonna marry her, is the last thought Catra has before she loses consciousness in the security of Adora’s hold.

[hazelandglasz]

Oh my, oh my, "I’m calling to cancel our date because I’m actually in the ER right now, sorry. …I mean, sure, I guess you can come down here, but… okay…" with Klaiiiine, pretty pretty please ? (I think this is the first time I've ever prompted you and I don't know why)

On  AO3

Blaine could cry.

Out of pain, sure, but also out of sheer frustration.

After months of sighing after Kurt Hummel, Blaine finally pulled his head out of his ass and asked him out--and was rewarded with a loud and clear “yes”--only to have to cancel because of his stupidity.

As in, got so excited about getting ready for his date that he tripped on his scarf and fell.

And now, Blaine’s wrist is hurting very badly, and oh God it’s an odd angle too.

Shit, shit, shit.

At least it’s his right one--silver lining of being a lefty.

While he waits and tries not to cry--not that there's anything wrong with a man crying, it’s just that Blaine didn’t pack any tissue and crying always makes him sneezy--Blaine sends a message to Kurt.

B: I’m so sorry I have to cancel our date but I’m in the E.R. Long story.

B: Raincheck?

K: Oh no! Are you okay?

K: Stupid question, nvm

K: Which hospital?

That gives Blaine pause. Why would Kurt want to know the name of the hospital?

B: Brooklyn Hospital Center

B: Why?

K: On my way.

B: What? No, no, Kurt, it’s fine! Don’t come down here I’m a mess

K: Blaine.

K: I’m not going to leave you alone while you’re in pain

K: I’ll keep you company, bring you smthing to eat, and we’ll see ok?

Blaine considers his options.

He can allow Kurt to come down to the hospital, see him be a pathetic, hurt mess, but they will be together and who knows, maybe he’ll get a sympathy first kiss.

(No, he does not have a nurse kink--but now that the image of Kurt in a doctor’s outfit presents itself, oy.)

Or.

He insists Kurt does not come, Kurt’s feelings are hurt while Blaine’s body is hurt, they never speak to each other and Blaine has to move back to Ohio.

Door number one, then please.

B: I suppose it won’t hurt, but no comment on how I look or no deal.

K: Scout’s honor.

Blaine smiles at that, barely suppressing a laugh at the next message.

K: I never was a scout, to be transparent and honest, but being a cheerleader counts, right?

Well now that opens a whole can of conversation, doesn’t it?

B: Cheerleader uh? I guess I can admit that if you have photographic evidence that it happened

K: Deal. See you in a few!

Blaine smiles at his phone before slowly but surely descending into a panic.

Kurt is coming.

Kurt, whom he has crushed on for the better portion of this semester; Kurt, who is always effortlessly stylish and remarkable; Kurt, who is probably the most interesting man in the school, if not the entire city.

This Kurt.

Is coming to, what, hang out with him in the E.R. while Blaine looks like a trainwreck smashed by a bulldozer? 

Before slipping on his scarf, Blaine was getting ready for his date with Kurt.

The keyword here is clearly the “getting” part, because he is nowhere near ready.

Not even taking into consideration the broken wrist and the puffy eyes from crying, which would be more than enough, Blaine knows that he is objectively a mess.

No product in his hair, an old t-shirt--the only thing he has going for him is his pants, because they are his Pants, capital P required.

But he’s sitting, so even that is a moot point.

With his free hand, Blaine tries to tame his hair but with no mirror and no product, he probably messes it up even further.

“Mr Anderson?”

A nurse appears in front of him. Nurse Pavarotti, it reads on her tag.

“Yes?”

“I’m going to take you down for a X-Ray in about twenty minutes, if that’s alright with you. Sorry about the wait.”

Blaine nods. “I just--there is a, um, a friend coming to keep me company. Is it okay if we …”

The nurse gives him a long, searching look before giving him a small nod.

Twenty-one minutes later, Kurt makes an appearance. He is short of breath, slightly dishevelled, and his cheeks are a dark shade of pink.

Not a bad look on him, all things considered, but not one Blaine has ever seen on him.

“Blaine!” Kurt exclaims, making his way to the chair next to him.

“There you are,” Blaine says, unable to keep himself from smiling.

Kurt smiles back, unbuttoning his coat before taking a look at Blaine’s hand, wrapped from the tip of his fingers to his elbow in a dish towel with melted ice cubes. “Does it hurt?”

“Oh, yes. A lot.” Blaine chuckles darkly. “I’m considering gnawing it off to stop the pain.”

Kurt coos before looking from Blaine’s hand to his hair. Something sparks up in his eyes.

“That’s a new look?”

Blaine can feel his face heating up. “N-no, oh gosh no, I was just, just, um, getting ready for our date when my scarf attacked me from the floor.”

“Traitor.”

“Exactly.”

They look into each other’s eyes and Blaine really has no self-control over his zygomatics when it comes to Kurt, does he?

“Mr Anderson? Are you ready?”

Blaine shakes himself from his Kurt-induced trance and nods to the nurse.

“Give me your coat, I’ll wait here,” Kurt offers, already settling in his chair.

“I’ll be right back,” Blaine replies, groaning when the towel slightly moves over his wrist.

“Don’t worry,” Kurt says, “I’m not going anywhere. You won’t get rid of me so easily.”

A weight is lifted from Blaine’s chest, a weight he didn’t even know had found its spot there.

“It won’t take much time,” Nurse Pavarotti says as she guides Blaine toward the examination room. “And you two lovebirds will be back together in no time.”

Blaine’s blush is back at full volume. “We’re not, I--”

“Tutt-tutt-tutt,” the nurse stops him. “I can tell. Now we will X-ray you and in the best case scenario, put you in a cast before sending you both on your merry little way.”

Blaine sighs. “Okay.”

“Oh, don’t be so gloomy, dear. I’m sure we can find a color that will enhance those eyes.”

“Okay.” This time around, Blaine puts a little more energy and enthusiasm in his voice. After all, if there is one thing he knows how, it’s to accessorize.

---

Kurt is keeping busy with Candy Crush when Blaine returns, arm in a cast.

He doesn’t know why he went to the hospital--it can be because he waited for so long to either get the courage to ask Blaine out or for Blaine to cut through his obliviousness.

It can be because he cares about Blaine already.

It can be because Blaine made the first move and it was his turn.

--but right this moment, he doesn’t regret it.

Because Blaine has a cast on and he looks so shy and vulnerable. All Kurt wants to do is wrap him in a blanket and take care of him.

… Come to think of it, Blaine may need some help in the days to come. Even if he’s left-handed--and Kurt knows that tidbit of information, thank you very much--, it cannot be easy to navigate his daily tasks one-handed, can it?

“We had to give him a strong painkiller,” the nurse explains as she guides Blaine back to his seat. “Will you be able to take him home?”

“Oh! I’m not--we’re not--that is, not yet. I mean …”

The nurse frowns at him. “You are Kurt, aren’t you?”

“I am.”

“I thought so. Mr Anderson here mentioned you a couple of times while we were putting on the cast.”

“He--he did?”

“Only good things. So good, in fact, that I assumed you two were already an item.” The nurse cocks her head to the side. “I’m telling you this because we need to make sure Mr Anderson won’t stay alone for the next 24 hours. And if you’re not in a capacity to be here for him, we need to contact his emergency contact, which appears to be a Mr Anderson …?”

“That must be his brother. But he recently moved to Los Angeles so that’s a moot point.” Kurt takes a deep breath--it’s a no-brainer. “Don’t worry, Miss, I will stay with Blaine.”

I would stay with Blaine forever, but that’s perhaps a tad too soon to say it out loud.

“Fantastic! Well, all you need to know is that the cast needs to stay dry, and here is a prescription for painkillers. Otherwise, just check with him how his fingers feel. If he starts losing sensation in them--”

“Bring him back?”

“Bring him back.”

“Alright.” Kurt gives the nurse an approximation of a military salute before turning back to Blaine.

Who is wearing his jacket like a cape and smiling adoringly at him.

“Blaine? You okay buddy?”

“‘m fine,” Blaine replies, getting on wobbly legs. “Not as fine as you, though.”

Kurt flushes deeply but cannot help the pang of satisfaction at hearing this. Really, after months of being either oblivious or afraid of his feelings, Blaine is now going to let them all out, just because of a painkiller?

As little as he put into his thought process in coming to the E.R., Kurt can only pat himself on the back for the best decision made tonight.

“You flatterer,” he simply says, steadying Blaine with one hand around his waist. “Come on, let’s get you home.”

“On the first date?” Blaine snorts before giggling. “Oh, Mr Hummel!”

Behind them, Kurt could swear he hears the nurse huffing a laugh. “No, not like that, Blaine. I’m just taking you home so you can rest and get better.”

Blaine pauses and Kurt has to stop. His eyes are a bit unfocused, sure, but there is a seriousness in them all the same. “You’re going to take care of me.” It’s not even phrased as a question.

Kurt swallows hard on the unexpected lump in his throat. “I will,” he replies, and he finds that he doesn’t mean just for the period of healing ahead.

He wants to date Blaine, sure, he wants to kiss him and “dot dot dot”, sure, but he wants …

Kurt wants the nitty gritty too.

He wants to figure out if Blaine is tidy or messy, he wants to find him drinking milk out of the bottle, he wants to see him under all the colors of the emotional rainbow.

He wants the passionate nights of lust and the quiet nights of comfort.

He wants everything Blaine has to offer and he wants to give Blaine everything in return.

That’s how far gone he is.

But for now, a helping hand to get clean and into another t-shirt and maybe some help heating up some soup will have to do.

“I know you will,” Blaine says, leaning his head on Kurt’s shoulder. “‘m sorry for our date.”

“It’s only a delay, don’t worry,” Kurt says with a smile as they start walking.

“I had this whole plan, you know.”

“Oh? Care to tell me about it.”

Blaine opens his mouth before glaring at Kurt.

(Well, “glaring”. An attempt is made, and Kurt really shouldn’t be laughing.)

“No, no, no. I’ll keep my surprise for you, Kurt. I’m going to woo the shizzle out of you.”

“The shizzle? Consider me swept off my feet already.”

“Good. But you ain’t seen nothin’ yet,” Blaine says with a smile and a wink, the insufferable …

The adorable, insufferable idiot.

God, Kurt loves him so much already.

“Kurt?”

“Hm?”

“I really am sorry it took me so long to ask you out.”

Kurt smiles crookedly at Blaine. “It’s fine. I could have asked you out too, but I was--”

“--scared?”

“Terrified.”

Blaine huffs. “We truly make a pair.”

“As long as we get it right in the end.”

A short nod and a happy sigh. “As long as we get it right, yeah.”

[secondgenerationnerd]

Quiet time

Enjoy this Daddy!Damian time

**

A late summer breeze drifts through open windows. Pieces of weapons and clothes pile around the living room. Damian Wayne stretches out on the couch, as he’s known to do on these quiet days, with good book as his only companion.

“’Shall I compare thee to a summer’s day/ Thou art more lovely and more temperate./ Rough winds do shake the darling buds of May.--”

A soft grunt interrupts him. He smiles down at the sleeping baby on his chest. She yawns, whimpering as she starts to wake up. 

“It’s ok, baby flower.” He coos, “Your baba has you. Baba’s right here.”

His daughter sneezes, blinking up at him. A soft kiss to her soft, dark curls and he continues to read. “‘And Summer’s lease hath all to short a date/Too hot the eye of heaven shines—“

“Are you really reading Shakespeare to your newborn?” Damian rolls his eyes at Jason’s voice. Of course, his brothers have to ruin his quiet afternoon. He doesn’t even attempt to sit up, too comfortable with the baby where she is.

“And if I am?”

“She can’t understand you yet.” Tim reminds his little brother, all three of the older men coming around the couch. The sight of the youngest Robin, who used to train whenever he had a free moment, relaxing is weird enough. Dick offers a finger to Asha, smiling when the little girl grips it.

“Perhaps, Drake, I read to my daughter,” He smiles a bit, “Because I enjoy reading aloud.”

“Just saying, little engine that could is just as good as sonnets.

“-tt-” Damian clicks his tongue. The door opens as Irey comes into the living room. Water spots litter the collar of her Flash tank top.

“Oh, no.” Irey laughs, drying her long hair with a towel. “You three interrupted cuddle bug time.”

“Cuddle bug time?” Jason raises his eyebrow at her. 

“Yep.” Irey leans over the couch, giving Damian an upside-down kiss. “Baba loves cuddling his Lightning Bug, isn’t that right, sweet girl?”

Asha tries to lift her head up at the sound of her mother’s voice, grunting softly. Irey lifts her daughter up, murmuring in Korean. The look Damian gives his girls —that look of total love and adoration and bliss— is something his brothers never thought they’d see.

“You sure you had a kid two weeks ago, Irey?” Jason asks. It’s true. The 19-year-old had already lost what little baby fat she’d gained. Irey laughs as she bounces the baby..

“Speedster genetics. Gotta love them.” Asha sneezes. Irey smiles down at her baby, “Such a sneezy baby, Lightning bug.”

“Is there a reason you three decided to visit?” Damain asks, sitting up.

“What? Can’t we visit our baby brother for no reason?” Jason actually sounds offended at Damian’s question. But there’s that twinkle in his eye.

“-tt- not in this family.”

Dick laughs at that. “Fair enough. We did bring you something. Tim?”

Tim goes out of the room. Damian and Irey exchange a look, neither sure what to expect, especially from his brothers. Then, the soft sound of nails clicking clicking clicking against the wood floors. The door opens and Damian lights up.

“Hey, boy!” Titus runs to his master, Damian crouching down to pet and scratch the Great Dane. Irey smiles. Titus had been so confused when Damian died. Tim had taken him in, just because Titus hated the manor without his young master. “Hey, hey, hey! Look at you. I missed you too.”

The dog licks Damian’s hands and face, sniffing at his clothes. If dogs could frown, Titus did at a new unfamiliar scent in Damian’s clothes. Irey giggles, “I think Titus realized he has competition. Isn’t that right, Lightning Bug?”

“Well, let’s address that.” Damian chuckles. He takes a moment to sit cross-legged on the ground. He reaches up to Irey, who passes Asha to him. Asha stretches in her little body out, still adjusting to this great new world. Titus, understandably, sniffs at the infant. “Titus, this is Asha. Asha, this is Titus.”

Irey melts at the sight of her boyfriend introducing their child to his favorite pet. She looks at the older men, “Thank you, guys.”

“Don’t mention it.” Dick hugs the young hero. “How have you been?”

“Well, I pushed a tiny human out of my vagina two weeks ago. So still a bit sore.”

Jason snorts, “Not sure most would be able to handle having Damian’s kid.”

“How have things with you two?” Dick nods at Damian, still letting the dog sniff the baby.

“They’re good. Talking helps...”

“Are you still talking to Dinah?” Tim asks.

“Yeah. Lots of shit happened in not a lot of time. It’s helping a lot.” Irey crosses her arms over her belly. 

“Irey.” Dick hesitates. “About what happened with Bruce--”

“It’s in the past. What happened happened.” Irey looks at her boyfriend, in a world of his own. Asha gives a little squeak as Titus licks her toes. “Alrighty, Baba, it’s feeding time for Lightning Bug.”

“I can feed her a bottle.” Damian offers.

Irey laughs, “Stop hogging her, Dames. She had one of the bottles earlier. It’s Mama time.”

Damian pouts but gives her Asha. Asha coos softly as Irey hums, settling on the couch. His brothers politely look away as Irey adjusts her top to breastfeed Asha. The young mom laughs softly at the men.

“Oh, bug, your uncles are being silly again. They’re not used to Mama being Mama.” Irey adjusts the baby so she can eat more comfortably. Damian gives Titus another scratch behind the ear before joining Irey on the couch. 

“So, what’s the plan for you two now?” Tim asks, leaning back in his seat.

“Survival. We’ll probably find a new place. Somewhere with two rooms probably.” Irey shrugs. “Right now I’m just happy being here.”

“Selina wants to know when she’s going to meet her grandbaby.” Dick notes. “Something about making up for lost time?”

“Can’t blame her. It’s been hard to travel. And I didn’t want anyone to be with me in the hospital that wasn’t family...” As Irey speaks, Damian frowns. His death has left a painful blackness in his memories. Irey never spoke about delivering Asha. She told him about holding Asha and watching the fireworks with her. But nothing about the birth. A gentle touch to his cheek pulls him from his thoughts. “Babe?”

“I’m ok. Just thinking.” He kisses her fingertips.

“Ok.” Irey smiles at him. 

“Any chance you have a pic of Asha we can take to the girls? They’ve been tied up with a shit ton of cases and will kill us if we don’t get one.” Jason nods at Irey.

“I had a nurse record the birth so I should have one or two for you.”

“You recorded it?” Tim asks.

“It was the only time I’d have a baby. I wanted to have something to remember it.” 

**

Damian stands under the hot water of the shower. It’s one of the few things that drives the chill from his bones lately. The thick scar in the middle of his chest, pale against his dark skin, is the only reminder of his death. Getting out of the shower, he dries off and pulls on his sleep pants. Irey lounges in bed, Titus resting his head on her lap.

“Hey, babe.” Irey smiles as he climbs into the bed with her. He pulls an arm around her waist, kissing her shoulder. “What’s on your mind?”

“What did you mean earlier? When you said this was the only baby you’d have?”

Irey turns in the bed to look at him. “I mean...Damian...You were dead. I didn’t know you were going to be brought back. All I knew was that the man I love was gone and I was having his baby.”

“You wouldn’t have dated?” 

“I dunno.” She traces the stubble on his jaw. “I don’t think that I could ever open my heart to anyone again. Not the way I did with you. I just...I had Asha. I’d like to believe that she’d be enough for me...”

“Nuri...” Damian isn’t sure what to say. He touches the stretch marks on her belly, her reminder of the past four months. Proof of their child, the daughter she carried and brought into this world. Damian’s throat tightens. He never got to see her carry Asha. Never got to touch her belly, feel the baby they made move and kick. She’d been alone giving birth. He should have been there. Should have been there to hold her hand during the contractions, wipe the sweat from her face, telling her how strong she is. He didn’t get to see his daughter come into the world. 

“Hey...hey...” Irey’s soft voice pulls him back. “It’s ok, babe...There’s nothing you could have done.”

“I should have been there with you.”

“You’re here now. That’s all I care about.”

Before he can ask her anything, they hear Asha crying over the baby monitor. Damian kisses Irey gently, “I’ve got her, beloved.”

“Ok.” Damian gets out of bed and crossing the room. Jai, Colin, and Jon had spent the time Irey was in the hospital turning her closet into a tiny nursery for Asha. The soft white walls glow from the nightlight. Asha cries in the crib, struggling against her swaddle. Damian gently untangles the baby. He lifts her up, cradling her like she’s made of glass.

“It’s alright, baby flower. I’ve got you. Your baba has you.” He coos to her. After changing her diaper and feeding her one of the bottles of ready to eat formula, he sits with her in her rocking chair. Asha gives a small yawn and nuzzles her face into her father’s chest. Damian blinks a few tears from his eyes.

He doesn’t deserve her. He doesn’t deserve Irey. So many sins weight his soul down, yet this tiny child, innocent and pure, she’s his. He will get to raise her with a woman who loves him so deeply that he’ll never understand. What did he do to deserve this?

“Asha? Baba loves you. I love you so, so much.” He slips a finger into her tiny hand. Asha reflexively grips it, but he pretends she’s holding it because she wants to. “I hope you grow up knowing how much Mama and I adore you. I hope you grow up happy.”

Irey smiles to herself, listening to Damian over the baby monitor. He’s such a good father. Irey glances at a text from her father, waiting for Damian to join her.

That’s when she hears Damian’s shout of surprise and a crash. Irey’s out of bed in an instant racing to her daughter’s room. She catches sight of Asha in her crib, Damian laying face up with something dark on his chest.

Then everything goes dark.

[rockbell1003]

Cure-all

So I wrote a thing- please enjoy!

(Ps Kaito and Mallory are back)

The hot water felt great against my skin, melting away the knots in my shoulders and helping my entire body relax. Ever since I was little, hot showers were a cure-all for me, whether it was a headache, being sick, or just being overwhelmed with life- being blasted with hot water always made me feel better. And today my ailment fell in the latter category, my father was in town and sought me out for his own agenda. Unfortunately, it wasn’t something that I wasn’t unaccustomed to but it always left me feeling overwhelmed.  I let out a sigh as I sat down in the tub and bent over my sprawled out legs so that the spray could hit my back. 

“Mal?”

I lifted my head and poked it out from behind the shower curtain to see Kai standing near my bathroom door which I left cracked open. 

“Kai? What’re you doing here?” I asked propping my chin on the edge of the tub, Kai had a key to my apartment that I shared with Mia so it wasn’t a total surprise to see him here but I wasn’t expecting to see him till tomorrow. 

“I wanted to make sure you were okay,” Kai walked into the bathroom, shutting the door behind him and sat on the floor with his back against the bathroom wall, “headache or..hi-ETCH..uh snf or just wanting to shower?” 

I bit my lip, “I needed a shower, is Jiji already getting to you?” Jiji was my roommate Mia’s little black cat that I am currently the step-mother of and it just so happens that Kai is deliciously allergic to her. 

“he..hITCh..uh snf ,” Kai did the little nose wiggle and scrunch that he did when his nose was beginning to get a little too itchy, “I’m okay, I’m more worried about you,” I quirked an eyebrow and opened my mouth to ask him why before he continued, “your father was waiting for me after work today.”

I could feel my jaw drop as I lowered my head and bonked it on my raised knees, of course, my father would stop Kai after work. “What did he say?” I mumbled into my knees. 

“ihh..EEH-tch..uh.heh..heICH..ugh,” Kai sniffled loudly before answering, “basically he told me thad he did’d abbrove of you movi’g id with b-heh..be..heh-ITchU” 

I groaned loudly not removing my face from my knees, I should’ve expected that after how my conversation with him ended earlier. He always wanted things to go his way, even if he had no right to those decisions. I turned my head so I could see Kaito who was currently knuckling his nose. “Sorry.” 

Kaito’s fist froze and lowered exposing his pinkening nose, “why are you apologizi’g? You’re nod snff responsible for his actions,”  

“He talked to you because I told him that he couldn’t stay at my place cuz I’m in the process of moving in with you,” I huffed out a breath, “Which led to him yelling at me that I wasn’t old enough to be living with my boyfriend and then me yelling back at him saying that I’m an adult and that he has no right to act like my dad and then walked away.”

“Heh..ih..he was try-hih-trying to sdaay with you? heITCHU..ugh”  Kai sneezed into his fist, and then rubbed his pinkened nose. 

“Yep, totally forgot that I have a roommate so that goes to show how he’s Dad of the year,” I reached over the tub and placed my somewhat pruney hand on Kai’s cheek, “you sure you’re okay tiger?”

Kai brings up a hand to cup mine against his cheek, “ Snf  I’b good, itchy and sdeezy but the sdeam helps,” he smiled and brought my hand to his lips, “Whad did he wad?” 

I smile back at my congested and sneezy boyfriend, “he wanted me to come to Grant’s high school graduation.” 

Grant was one of my father’s kids with his wife, basically, he was a member of my father’s ‘perfect family’, a family that neither I nor my mom was apparently good enough for. Not that it really mattered now since my mom is happily remarried with the man who I consider my dad, Liam, and I’ve got my younger brother Josh but as a 6-year-old, having my father leave because he had a new family made me think that there was something wrong with me.

Kai rubbed his thumb against the back of my hand, bringing me back to reality, “Thad’s random” 

I nodded, “yeah, I’ve got no idea what he’s thinking but the fact that he waited for you to be done with work just to yell at you over something that isn’t even his business is completely uncalled for.”

Kai suddenly dropped my hand that he had been holding and cupped both hands around his face, “heITCH..ISHHOOOO...heiiSHOOO...ugh”

“Bless you!” I exclaimed, surprised at how big his sneezes got. Typically Jiji would set off smaller itchier sounding sneezes but I guess the steam from my shower was making them messier. 

“Ugh..thad subrised be,” Kai groaned his hands still steepled over his face and his dark brown eyes half-mast.

“Alright, I think that and my pruney ass hands are signals that I should get out of the shower,” I said as I stood up,  shut off the faucet and wrapped a towel around my body. 

“ HEPCHOO...heh..hih..giTCH-uh, snf ugh sngk,” Kai sneezed again, his eyes squeezed shut. 

“Bless you, tissues?” I asked even though I was already in the process of grabbing him a handful. 

“Yes blease,” came his response muffled by his hands. I handed the tissues over and he gingerly took them in one hand while keeping the other over his nose and mouth before bringing the wad up to his nose for a good blow. 

“You sure it’s just Jiji? Those sounded more congested than your usual cat sneezes,” I asked sitting on top of the toilet towel drying my hair. 

Kai did a few final swipes of his nose with the tissues before tossing them into the garbage can, “pretty sure, the only other thing that I can think of is that I’m coming down with a cold, bu-” he trailed off raising his fist up to his nose, ““ih….heh...hePTCH”

“But this isn’t following your usual cold pattern,” I finished for him handing Kai another tissue which he gratefully took, “Bless you, by the way,” 

“Love you,” he replied dabbing his now raw nose and shaking his head as if to clear it of congestion, “so what are you going to do about your father?” 

I groaned, “I’ll talk to him tomorrow, figure out what exactly he plans on doing for Grant’s graduation and then I guess I’ll have to talk to him about us so that he doesn’t bother you at work again,” I let out a sigh, dealing with my father was not something I enjoyed.  Suddenly I felt Kai’s warm hands on my shoulders, rubbing them in soothing circles. I leaned forward so my head rested against his toned stomach, “I’m gonna need to call my mom and dad to warn them that they might get caught up in this shitstorm,” 

“Wand me do come with you snff when you talk with him again?” 

I wrapped my arms around Kai’s waist and squeezed, “Please,”

I heard Kai laugh, his stomach moving with the sound before his breathing changed and he took a sharp inhale, “heh-RRSHOO! -hhaah-RRSHOoo...HH-AASSSHHHEEEOOO...ugh”

I looked up to see Kai scrubbing at his dark pink nose, he must have felt me move because he looked down and smiled sheepishly at me, “Bless be snfl” 

I felt my face flush and grinned, “Love you,” 

Kai chuckled, “Thad’s my line,” and he bent down to kiss the top of my head. 

Correction, showers and a loving sneezy boyfriend are definitely my cure-all.

[sprnklersplashes]

shot through the heart

trigger warning for mentions of blood and injury. 

Also this is about Emma and Hope, not mentioning any partner for Emma, so it’s open to any and all shippers and fans :)

But it does take place in my universe where Rumple died, Belle moved in with Emma and the s7 time travel thing just... did not happen.

Hope’s never been in a battle before. She’s seen them more times than she would care to count; in her family’s storybook, in her history books, in paintings on gallery walls. All different and varied across history and between realms, some fought by her immediate family like the Battle For Neverland as it’s now called, and some between whole kingdoms. She’s never cared much for them, not even the ones her parents fought in, and skipped past them, knowing, or thinking she knew, that she’d never have to be in one.

And now here she stands, sword in one hand and magic cracking below the skin of the other, running down Main Street with blood rushing in her ears. It’s not like the paintings or pictures in her book where the hero stands triumphantly over the defeated villain, it’s hell on the streets. People she’s grown up with run past her without giving her a moment’s notice, most if not all holding some sort of weapon in their hands. She’s vaguely aware of them but couldn’t recognise their faces if she tried, not even her closest friends. Everything around her blurs and melts away, only leaving focus on the road ahead of her. Her ears are attacked with an unholy symphony of screams and cries and swords clashing and weapons being fired, the sounds coming together into one agonising noise, each one becoming indistinguishable from the other. She’s not stupid, she knows that battles and wars are far from valiant and mighty and all that crap. But she never thought that, even if she did fight in one, it would be with tear-streaked cheeks and the taste of vomit in her throat. The worst by far is the blood on her hands and blade.

“Mom?” She slows to a jog and tries to force her weary eyes to focus, but the ringing in her head only makes it harder. “Mom?! Henry? Mom!” She stumbles back into a little, holding her sword tighter. She pushes an escaped lock of hair out of her face, trying to search the endless sea of faces, the enemy only marked by their silver armour. “Mom?”

She’s about to let out a sob when something hits her. At first there’s almost no feeling to it, other than the weight hitting her stomach and pushing her back and her mind immediately goes to magic. Until her hand goes to that spot reflexively and she finds it wet; something warm and thick drips between her fingers.

It’s only when she sees the scarlet substance across her palm that the pain hits her, knocking her to her knees and making her hit the floor.

And holy shit, does it hurt.

                                                                                                                     *****

No. No, no, no, no, no. No!

Emma’s had her fair share of moments that made her blood run cold, beginning even before she came to Storybrooke. Her life sometimes feels like it was a series of horror movie moments from sleeping on the streets in a rainstorm to being thrown in front of a car to giving birth in jail. Then add Storybrooke and magic and you’ve got enough to make someone need a good therapist (or in her world, Archie). She’s seen shit that should have send her flying back, but she’s somewhat proud of how she stood back up, even after Dark Ones and curses and several close calls with death.

But none of those could prepare her for this.

She pulls her daughter into her lap, brushing her hair away from her face and wincing at how cold her cheeks are. She’s always been pale ever since she was a kid, but now she’s practically translucent, courtesy of the arrow sticking out of her stomach, its silver tip winking cruelly at her in the setting sun. Bile rises in Emma’s throat. This arrow, like the rest in the White Witch’s army, are enchanted against Misthaven’s magic. Her hands can burn down forests and melt glaciers but snow they sit limp and useless when it comes to fixing her daughter.

“Mom?” Her voice is tiny, so unlike the bright laughter or deadpan snark she’s grown used to filling her house. Her green eyes look up at her, hazy and unfocussed. “Mommy?” She hasn’t called her mommy since she was five.

“I’m here, baby,” she whispers, stroking her hair. “I’ve got you. I’ve got you it’s okay.” Hope gasps a little and a tear leaks out of her eye.

“Mom… it hurts,” she grunts. “It hurts so bad.” Such a blunt admission from the girl who faced life with as much dramatics as possible made Emma choke on her tears, but it also brought her back to the situation at hand.

“I know, baby girl.” She wonders how long it’s been since she called her that. Not since she wore tutus and carried her stuffed duck around at all times, she knows that much. “I know, honey. Just hang in there.” She wraps her arms around her daughter, cursing at herself. What Hope needs is a pillar of strength right now, not trembling arms and shaking breaths.

Emma looks around her, surveying the battlefield one last time. She looks up just in time to watch Robyn send an arrow into the chest of the man who felled Hope, making it look effortless. She’s her father’s daughter. The young archer turns around and does a double take at the sight of Hope’s prone form, at the blood blooming across her white top. Emma sees the words “oh my god” form on her lips as she runs towards them and drops to her knees and remembers with a wince that she’s hardly much older than Hope is.

“I’ll hold it down here,” she tells her, shouting over the chaos of the battlefield. “Alice has the front line. Lucas and I can keep it up back here.” Her eyes move to Hope, wide and fearful, and Emma sees her hold back from gagging at the sight of the blood. Hope doesn’t acknowledge her, if she even has the energy to see her at all.

“Thank you, Robyn,” she says, grabbing her hand tightly.

“Don’t even thank me,” she says. “Just go. Thank me when this one’s on her feet again.” Emma nods, enveloping them in white smoke just as tears begin to blur her vision.

She finds herself outside Storybrooke General, the protection spell Alice placed around it preventing anyone, friend or foe, from entering magically. Hope lets out a pained groan on impact, the change in position no doubt angering her already nasty wound.

“I’m sorry, baby.” She presses a kiss to her head before kicking the door open and storming inside, her daughter’s head resting against her shoulder. “Help! Help!” Memories of running into this same hospital with a different child flicker up in her mind, past and present colliding.

Gideon comes flying down the hall, his stride faltering only when he catches sight of his almost-sister limp and half-unconscious in her mother’s arms. Having grown up in the same house, they’re siblings in all but blood.

“Holy crap,” he gasps, meeting Emma in the foyer and taking a moment to stroke Hope’s head. “What happened to her?”

“There’s an arrow… in my stomach…” Hope whispers, her voice thin and pained, but it’s there and Emma could cry. “What do you think happened?”

“Save your breath, baby,” she tells her, but there’s a spark of hope in her chest. If Hope’s aware enough to recognise Gideon and be sarcastic, maybe it’s not as bad as it looks, even with the blood staining the floor and Hope’s short, laboured, desperate breaths filling the silence.

“Get a stretcher in here, now!” Gideon barks down the hall and two dwarves appear with one almost instantly. Emma helps lay Hope on it and Hope’s ice cold hand clings to hers. Gideon assesses the damage while the dwarves pull the stretcher down the hall, his shaking hands the only thing that betray his calm demeanour. “Magic isn’t going to work on this one. Get her into that operating room and get Whale, now. We’re going to need anaesthetic, a fuckton of bandages and antibiotics, just in case.” One of the dwarves, Sneezy, she thinks vaguely, nods and runs down the hall.

“Emma, I’m going to need you to wait out here,” Gideon continues.

“Like hell, that’s my daughter,” Emma replies sternly, her hand tightening around Hope’s.

“Yes, I know. But we can’t have a civilian-”

“I’m not a civilian.”

“Someone who isn’t on the medical team in that operating room,” he finishes. “I’m sorry Emma but you need to stay out here!”

“No, she needs me!”

“What she needs is to get better,” Gideon tells her, looking down at Hope. She didn’t even flinch at his voice. Guilt and regret cross his face, unusual for a Stiltskin, but he’s also half French and that’s the part of him that makes him a godsend in the hospital. “Emma… we’re going to do everything we can for her. But in there…. You can’t be in there, Emma. I’m sorry.”

Emma looks down at Hope. She looks so much like her grandmother, her black hair spread across the pillow and her skin as white as… well, as snow. Tears run down her cheeks as she realises Gideon’s right, of course. She’s about as useful in a medical room as a jelly pickaxe. Her family takes the battlefield, Belle’s takes the hospital. It’s right, but that doesn’t make it any less hard.

“Okay,” she whispers. “Okay.” Gideon pats her shoulder and it’s hard to believe he’s the same man who tried to kill her, albeit not of his own will. Not that he remembers any of that.

Emma kisses Hope’s knuckles and then her head, hoping against hope that True Love’s Kiss works on arrow wounds.

“I love you,” she whispers, stroking her pale cheek.

“I’ll call you the minute we’re finished,” Gideon promises. Emma nods, knowing to trust a French, and watches him wheel Hope away. She wants to call after him and beg him to take care of her, but she knows he will. There’s five people in the world who love Hope as much as she does and Gideon’s one of them.

“Mom?” And there’s another one. When Emma turns, Henry is behind her, half a roll of bandages in his hand. He decided that his skills, like Gideon’s, are better employed here. And since his wife is out on the battlefield with her step sisters, he can keep an eye on Lucy here. Henry opens and closes his mouth, his eyes wide. “Mom what happened-”

“Hope,” she says, and his face falls instantly. She takes a deep breath before continuing, shoulders back, chin up. She straightens her jacket. Her parents might have fought in chainmail and capes, but she’s fought every battle, emotional and physical, real and fairytale, in this jacket. “She got hurt.”

“Hurt?” he echoes. “How badly, what happened, where is she, is she okay?”

“One question at a time kid,” she replies, her voice catching. “She got hit with an arrow. Gideon took her a minute ago. She’s in good hands. She’s…” She’s going to be okay. She’ll be fine. Those words don’t quite cross her lips though.

“Oh my God.” Emma throws her arms around him just as his knees start to buckle. When his arms come around her too, she melts into it, not realising how much she needed this until now. He’s shaking against her, clinging to her like she’s a stuffed toy.

“She’s going to be okay,” she finally says. Despite the hope she’s trying to hold onto, the words feel clumsy and wrong in her mouth. She hates uncertainties, especially ones like this. “They’ve got Whale and Gideon in there with her and they’re the best we have.” She tries to flash a weak smile and wonders if Henry can see the lack of heart behind it. “If anyone can save her, Dr Frankenstein can.”

“Yeah.” Henry smiles against her hand on his cheek despite the tears shining in his eyes.

“Dad?” Lucy comes running down the room towards them, her dark hair flying behind her. Emma can’t help but find the hasty smile on her son’s face intimately familiar. Her hair is pulled into a ponytail and, like her father, she wears a white coat over her clothes. “Dad, there’s more people coming in.”

“I’ll be right there, kid.” Lucy nods and looks over at Emma, realisation dawning on her as she takes in her red eyes and blood-stained fingertips, and she looks over at her father.

“Dad?” she asks, her voice small. “Dad what’s going on?”

“Just checking what’s happening out there,” he says. “Come on, Luce, let’s go.” He turns to Emma before he goes, squeezing her hands tightly, his mask slipping away to reveal the desperation.

“I’ll let you know as soon as she’s awake,” she promises him in a low voice. “She’ll want to see you.”

“Thanks Mom,” he says. He hugs her tightly before he leaves, the shaking arms and teary eyes almost gone completely as he takes Lucy’s hand. Lucy sends a concerned look over her shoulder to Emma as Henry takes her away. Clever girl. She’s like her father that way.

Emma pulls her hair back into a ponytail and takes in deep breaths. In and out, eight for eight. As she bites her nail, she hears the phantoms of foster mothers telling her stop it, what a terrible habit is. They may have been right, but it’s one of the only constants in her life.

She flops onto one of the hard plastic chairs, the feeling of worthlessness settling into her like little pinpricks. A Saviour is what she is, apparently. And yet she’s sitting here waiting for someone else to save her daughter from something that no amount of magic can fix.

Just down the hall and to the left is the maternity ward, where after 8 painful and uncomfortable hours, her daughter was born. Hope Eva Margaret Swan, five pounds, three ounces, two full weeks before her due date. Emma likes to joke that was the only time she’s ever been early for anything. Born with wisps of blonde hair that turned red just before her first birthday and stayed that way. Zelena joked that if they were out with their daughters, people might think Hope was hers and Robyn was Emma’s. And that might have been true, but ever since Hope dyed her hair black, they’re more in danger of outsiders believing her to be Snow’s, especially with their chin and the family green eyes.

She has almost all of Emma’s bad habits. Not just the nail chewing, but the sugar addiction and the Star Wars worshipping, the eye rolling and the affection for puns, driving poor Gideon up the wall, the inability to sit on a chair properly if their lives depended on it. Sometimes Emma can’t even scold her when she sees her stealing cookies before dinner, knowing she would have done the same thing at her age. But there are so many things about her daughter that she didn’t get from anyone, completely unique to her. Her too-loud cackle and famous impulse decisions, her aggressive competitiveness and her use of affectionate insults to show love, the way she loves with every piece of her, even if she’s too cool to show it. And then there’s her smile. The sarcastic one with her eyes narrowed, the bashful one she gets when she’s talking to Melody even after six months of dating, the excited one accompanied by fists punching and bouncing up and down, the cocky “in your face” smile she puts on when she beats someone at even the tiniest game. But the best one is the one with her eyes sparkling and dimples in her cheeks and teeth on full display, the one she gets where she’s so happy she might burst. Emma had always loved that smile, but it’s only now, when she sees that there’s a chance she might never see it again, she realises how much she needs it in her life.

                                                                                               *****

Something’s tickling her chin. Or someone, but for her sake and the sake of whoever’s with her, it better be a something. But that’s the first thing Hope becomes aware of, the presence of something soft tickling her chin. She goes to move lift her hand to slap it (or them) away, but it feels stuck to the bed. Her whole body feels like it’s melted into the mattress, her head fused to the pillow. She isn’t necessarily complaining though.

She spends minutes (or hours, she’s not totally sure) walking the line between awake and asleep, before she gets restless, her body not at all jibing with how still her limbs are. She tries to move, but her muscles don’t comply despite her best efforts. They don’t feel locked exactly, just deflated. Like a bunch of sad, empty balloons. There’s probably a better comparison, but her brain is a jumbled mess of thoughts right now, and not in the way it normally is where she can sort through it, especially when she feels herself fading in and out of consciousness.

After a while, she manages to blink her eyes open. The world is blurry and disjointed at first, but slowly manages to come into place. With the light from outside, she makes out the grey walls and TV standing isolated in the corner on a heavy looking metal stand and she frowns. This isn’t her room, nor is it any of her friend’s rooms. After some considerable effort, she manages to push herself up onto her elbow, only for a blinding pain to flash through her stomach. She lets out a gasp before she can stop herself and collapses back onto the pillow, her heart racing from the effort.

Thanks to the pain, the fog in her mind lifts and everything comes flooding back to her; the battle, running down Main Street, the arrow piercing her stomach, her mum’s face over her, telling her everything was going to be okay.

She turns her head slightly. Sure enough, she’s sitting on the visitor’s chair beside her, her hair messy from sleeping on her side and her eyes bleary and bloodshot. Her mum.

“You look like crap,” Hope jokes weakly.

“Look who’s talking,” her mum replies, moving from her chair and sitting on the bed. She takes her hand in hers and Hope squeezes with as much effort as she can muster. Her mum’s other hand strokes her cheek and pushes her hair away from her face, letting out a laugh as tears make their way down her cheeks. “How are you feeling?”

“Fine,” she says. Her mum raises an eyebrow at her. “Okay, maybe I’ve been better. What’d I miss?”

“We won,” her mum says. “Turned the tide, White Witch arrested. Oh and Robyn sent an arrow into the guy who shot you.”

“I need to buy her a drink.”

“She’s taken,” Emma reminds her playfully. “And it’ll have to wait. You’re not drinking for a while. Doctor’s orders.”

“Oh, boo,” Hope scoffs. “What would he know? He got his degree from a curse.”

“Normally I’d agree, but Gideon said so too,” she tells her. “And I have some experience with this kind of stuff.” Hope pouts for a second, but it’s soon gone and she nods in understanding. Her free hand slips under the hospital issue blanket and her top and she feels the strip of bandages across her stomach. “They’re staying on for a while.”

“Am I going to have a scar?”

“Most definitely.”

“Awesome,” she whispers. She turns her head and finds something tickling her again. She reaches up and finds a stuffed duck sitting on her shoulder, a pink bow tied around his neck. “Ducky…”

“I brought you some of your stuff from home,” Emma tells her. “You’re going to be here for a while. I brought your laptop, your books, your headphones, your Pop Tart stash…”

“And Ducky,” Hope adds, shaking the toy in front of her face. Emma nods slightly, her cheeks turning pink.

“And Ducky,” she admits. “That was your grandma’s idea.” Hope toys with it, her fingers running over his fur.

“I don’t mind,” she says. A few years ago, Ducky took up semi-permanent residence in her wardrobe, too babyish for her bedroom but too important to throw out. “I don’t.”

“I had a feeling you wouldn’t,” Emma whispers. There’s a lot unsaid in her eyes; a mirror of Hope’s own. Neither one of them are good with words, especially when it comes to this bedside manner, emotional sincerity crap. But the tight hug she pulls Hope into tells her everything she needs to know. “I’m going to go call your brother. He’s probably pacing the floor of his apartment right now.”

“I’ll be here,” Hope says, making Emma chuckle. She kisses her head again, and once more for luck, before lifting her phone and stepping outside.

Hope turns and looks at the digital clock on the wall. 4:15am. She feels a stab (pun intended) of guilt followed by telling herself how ridiculous she’s being. She slips her hand under her blanket and, against her better judgement, feels the bandage across her skin. It’s too thick for her to make out the wound, but if her memory is anything to go by, it’s probably bled through a little. Pain still flashes through her when she touches it, the icing on top of the throbbing ache she already feels in her stomach. She knows it's going to take a long, long time to recover from this, and maybe even then she won't be the person she was before this. She doesn't want to think about all the things she might miss out on now.

Being the product of a fairy tale isn’t all it’s cracked up to be, she realises sadly. Even with the magic.

[chusset]

Boston Rain

omg so I’ve been sick as hell for a few days and have done literally nothing before and after work because I’ve been slowly dying.  ANYWAY, I run a sneeze fetish blog (the url is @sf-galaxy if you’d ever wanna check it out!! No pressure. I just post a lot of....well, fetish shit lol) so I was really feeling In the Mood for some fetishy writing because my recent fics have been more mundane I guess---anyway I will always love Spencer and Tim and I just remember that summer when we stayed up til the buttcrack of dawn crying about them, and I just!! love sneezy Spencer so much!! We didn’t do a hell of a lot with him fetish-wise because I think we mostly focused on Klaus and Phin with a few other folks peppered in (peppered, get it, lol), and like--- 

okay so I know he HAD a cold when he was hanging out with Cassidy and then it just got worse as they went, but I tweaked it just a bit for this fic so that he had the beginnings of a cold, but didn’t really notice until he and Tim were in Boston. And we’ve mentioned here and there that Tim and Spencer would sort of ‘catch’ the fetish, and I guess this is sort of my take on how Tim would start to really get into it? Like....Idk if this makes sense, but before I was thinking that after hanging out with Dahlia and Eloise and then, he’d be like “Hey you’re right, this is pretty hot”, but now I guess I just think it’s sweeter if he is just SO enamored with Spence that he just starts feeling that on his own? And Tim’s still struggling with his Gay Panic so he like!! Reeeeally wants to hug and kiss and love Spencer at this point and it’s beginning to outweigh his constant DON’T BE GAY thoughts

Ughh what else---so I’m sort of tweaking Alchs so they have normal mouths, but their eyes are still sort of freaky---still working on it!! And this is sort of fucking long lol so let me know if you see this but have to wait til you get out of work or something to read it later or whatever---ALSO YEAH I KNOW I have like 3 things i still need to finish but this was killing me to get out!! @chillediplier  @carolionel please tell me what you think!

ALSO WAIT so this post ( http://sf-galaxy.tumblr.com/post/156026087020/kalla-lily-i-am-weak-for-the-idea-of-a ) really sort of inspired me for this too? I’m sorry omg but the idea of Spencer just sneezing everywhere makes me weak!!!

also fuck!! idk why it keeps formatting it weird and putting needless spaces in different spots!! UGHHH anyway please continue 

Tim didn't care if Spencer caught him staring. Well, it wasn't so much that he didn't care, but just that he....didn't acknowledge it. All he could do was feel his heart pound in his ears. "HihhHHH..." That shaky gasp of breath, that twitching pointed nose, the way his eyes rolled up just before sliding shut.... "HihhhHH--!! HEehhHHKKShuuHH!!" Spencer finally released, snapping at the waist as the sneeze barrelled out of him. He sniffled blearily and blinked, reaching to rub under his nose with a crooked index finger. "Sorry...." he breathed, though the soft exhale sounded like it was relieved more than anything. "Gesundheit...." Tim chuckled, fingers itching to place his hand on Spencer's back. Or his arm, or his shoulder, or anywhere at all. Tim wanted nothing more than to hold Spencer, no matter how much he tried to deny it to himself. "I told you, you should've brought a jacket...." Spencer sniffled again, shoving his hands in his pants pockets. "Ah, hell, I'm....fine, dude," he said, response delayed a beat when his nose twitched irritably again. He sniffled, giving the reddening appendage a wiggle. "I don't g-get sick that much...." "Well, you're gonna get sick in this weather..." Tim murmured, looking up as the light drizzle fell from the dreary clouds over Boston. It wasn’t enough to make him rust, but it would get worse. Maybe it was the feelings he was catching recently, but this felt like the perfect weather to curl up and---dare he say it?---cuddle in. His cheeks burned at the very thought.   "Man, I spent the last two years bustin’ heads in 2-Fort. I think I can handle a little rain...." Spencer told him with a confident smile and a shiver that he couldn't quite hide. An instant later, he sniffled loudly and reached to palm the underside of his nose. "Nose just itches...." How was he allowed to be this cute? How was Tim allowed to feel so damn affectionate and soft after years of being anything but? "Here...." Tim murmured, unbuttoning his letter jacket as he spoke. The jacket was one that he won in a Game Stop raffle as a teenager, with the logo of the classic game The Legend of Zelda: Breath of the Wind sewn into the back.  The jacket was a size or two too big, but it was one of the few things he brought with him when he first became an Alch, and even though he rarely grew cold anymore, he still kept it for nostalgia's sake. He offered it to Spencer with a firm hold, so the other man couldn't push his hand away. "Nah, nah, man, I-I'm not gonna take your---" "Take it. I'm not cold," Tim insisted with an easy shrug, as if his stomach wasn't full of butterflies and his heart wasn't aching with the desire to do far more than just offer Spencer his jacket. The ex-Scout took a long moment to consider this before he shivered again at a cold breeze. "Th-Thanks, B..." he said, taking the jacket to slip on. He quickly buttoned it up, sighing at how comfortable and warm it was. The jacket was too big for him, and he practically swam in it with the sleeves going an inch past his fingers. He sniffled again and reached to toy with one of the buttons. "It....smells like you," Spencer said after a moment, a light smile teasing at his lips. Tim flushed and shoved his hands in his pockets, gaze falling to the ground shyly. "I-I'm guessing that's good?" he chuckled awkwardly. "Yeah, yeah, real good...." Spencer nodded, taking another deep inhale of the sleeves. "Like....motor oil, but just a little bit. And also like...apple cider, sorta." Tim couldn't help but laugh. "Motor oil and apple cider, huh? Well, I do like chugging cider when it's cold like this....and I did have to change my oil last--..." he paused when Spencer stepped closer to him as the walked, their shoulders pressed together. "....month," he finished weakly, wondering if Spencer could hear his heart pounding. Spencer looked down so the collar of the jacket hid his shy smile. "Whatcha wanna do for dinner?" Tim thought about how easy it would be just to link his arm with Spencer's. Or maybe put his arm around Spencer's waist, or his shoulders. Even just placing his hand on the small of his back was far more than Tim was brave enough to do. "I dunno....room service?" Tim suggested, slipping his hand down to gingerly tuck his pinky finger into Spencer's jean pocket. It was a small move, but it had Spencer moving closer. Spencer sniffled again, looking to his nose with irritation. "R-Room service is....ehHHHxpensive...." he said airily, determined to try and shake off the building sneeze. "Don't worry about it....You let me take care of that." "Nghh...fine, b-but I'll p--hihHHH--pay you b-back...." Spencer hitched, his lashes falling shut as he had to completely stop walking, his body momentarily distracted with the maddening tickling in his nose. He absently raised both sleeves to his face, nose scrunching with a final shuddering hitch. God. I love him. "HeeIIKKchhUUHH!!" Spencer sneezed, buckling into the sleeves before his breath immediately hitched again, brows drawing up with the shaky inhale. "IhhHKcheeUUHHH!! Ohhh, fuck..." he breathed, lashes still shut as he rubbed his nose with the oversized sleeve. "That was buggin' the h-hell out of...me...." he exhaled, looking to be on the cusp of another sneeze. The strangers on the streets of Boston didn't matter to Tim in that moment. Nothing, nothing at all mattered except for Spencer. What was ever important to him before Spencer? "Oh--shit, man, sorry...." Spencer winced a moment later, drawing back from the sleeves he'd just sneezed into. "I didn't---I didn't notice I..." He froze, blinking in surprise when he was pulled close to Tim's side, an arm wrapped around his waist. "....B?" Tim smiled warmly, holding Spencer close as they walked. "Gesundheit...." Spencer only paused briefly before melting into Tim's embrace, his temple lulling against the other man's. "Sorry for sneezin' all over your jacket...." "Don't be," Tim chuckled. "You're not classy like Klaus and carry a handkerchief, so you really don't have many options," he teased. Spencer snorted, rubbing under his nose once more. "Hey, I probably would if I had a water faucet for a schnoz like him. And I'm plenty classy! I was voted Sharpest Dresser in high school." "You were not!" "Well, another kid named Spencer was, and the yearbook committee screwed up and put my picture in instead of his-- but it's my face attached to it!" This had Tim laughing out loud. "Hell, I'd tell people that, too, if that happened to me..." he snorted, reaching with his free hand to dry his eyes. "You’re funny!” Spencer's nose crinkled with a laugh of his own, and Tim felt his heart swell all over again. "Man, I was like Charlie Brown in school! Always trippin' over something or screwin' somethin' up....Took me a while to grow into my legs, I guess...Guess I've always been sorta....I dunno, awkward and annoyin', though...." "Shut up," Tim ordered with a frown. "You're not annoying." Spencer sighed, giving him a light, half-hearted smile. "I know you don't think I am...But I always feel like I get real....loud, ya know, a-and obnoxious....And I don't try to be, b-but I can just....feel myself getting annoying. Especially around Klaus and Eloise and Leon and them... They're my friends, yeah, but they're so chill...." "Eloise started crying yesterday because there was an old man sitting by himself at the diner.” 

“Well, yeah, but that was sorta sad...”

“And Leon cuts people open with his psycho girlfriend. And Klaus went batshit on Lionel when he was flirting with Eloise. I mean, I'd probably go batshit if someone was flirting with you," Tim said with a shrug, cheeks reddening a bit, "But I guess my point is that they're far from chill, and so are everyone else we hang out with....I still love Eloise, even if she cries at the drop of a hat. And hell, I'm starting to love Klaus and Leon, too, even if they can get a little nutty...." He met Spencer's eyes and smiled warmly. "And they love you, even if you get a little excited. Hell, I love it when you get excited!" he couldn't help but gush.

Spencer blushed himself, sniffling and holding the jacket closer around himself. "R-Really....?"

"Yeah!" Tim grinned. "When you talk about baseball or video games or something you're pumped about, your eyes get so bright and you talk a mile a minute and...and you're so damn cute," he said quietly, his expression softening. "I've thought that since the moment we came home after busting you out of 2-Fort. That you were cute. 'Course, I wouldn't let myself think about it much....Didn't wanna think I was.....ya know...." Spencer's gaze fell, looking down and away from Tim. "Y-Yeah, I getcha...." he murmured. Tim swallowed and gave Spencer a ginger hug with his arm. "....B-But I am," he clarified quietly, knowing his cheeks had to be burning. "I'm....ya know....with you...." It took a moment, but Spencer finally returned Tim's fond look. "...I-I'm...ya know....with you, too, man..." he said softly with a growing grin. The both of them just smiled to each other, their faces close and their bodies closer as they made their way down the busy Boston sidewalk. A moment later, Spencer yanked his sleeves up to his face again, buckling into them fiercely. "HeEEHHKshhhUUU!!" "Woah,bless you...." Tim exclaimed, feeling Spencer's forehead once he straightened. His Alch tech didn't detect a fever, but that didn't ease his fears any. "You might be coming down with something...." "'M fine....just cold," Spencer sniffled loudly, twitching his nose back and forth. "Ugh! Let's just hurry up to the hotel. You said it’s close, right? I gotta grab a tissue..." "Oh?" Tim hummed before slowing his pace dramatically. "Well, we should put some speed on it...." "You're a dick!" Spencer laughed, trying to keep going faster while Tim slunk behind him. "Doooon't....goooo....alooooooone....." Tim drawled out as if he were in slow motion, taking sluggish and dramatic steps, clinging to Spencer’s arm.  "You do know you're grabbin' the arm I just sneezed into, right?" "Oh. That explains why it's wet." "Shut up! It's not--" Spencer only paused in his laughter when thunder clapped overhead. A few people on the sidewalk took out umbrellas, clearly anticipating this in the weather forecast. This had Tim straightening. He took Spencer's hand and scurried along, feeling the previous drizzle become a fine sprinkle. "Come on, it's just another block...." Spencer flushed when Tim held his hand, hurrying along beside the Alch. "What? You gonna rust or something?" "I might..." Tim murmured, seeing the lights of the hotel ahead. "There! That's the place I made the reservation...." Spencer followed his gaze and gaped. "Dude...You got the Sheraton? I love this place!" "I know! You told me!" Tim couldn't help but grin, despite their predicament. He desperately loved the look of joy on Spencer's face. "I mean, I remember mentioning it a bit, but..." Spencer beamed ear to ear to Tim. "You just remember everything, don't ya?" Tim stopped at the corner as cars zoomed by, not noting any passersby. "Nah. I just pay special attention to you in particular." He gave Spencer a swift, adoring kiss, and continued across the street an instant later. Spencer blinked in surprise, but kept moving alongside Tim. He seemed dazed, and Tim worried that he didn't appreciate the surprising (and public) kiss. But his worries were eased a moment later when that dazed look lead to Spencer yanking up the collar of the jacket over his nose, buckling into it with two sudden sneezes. "IhHHZHHUU!! HiHH-!! HeeEEKCHUU!!" "Woah! Bless you, bless you--" HiiIIHHCHHuUUHH!!" "Bless you..." Tim finished fondly, kissing Spencer's cheek before he could help himself. Spencer visibly blushed, collar still over his nose. His eyes crinkled with a hidden smile as Tim guiding him into the automatic front doors of the Sheraton. The rain was coming down harder now, and they slipped into the safety of the hotel lobby just in time to avoid the brunt of it. The both of them panted after that mad dash, fingers still entwined together. They were silent, until Tim reached to smooth Spencer's wet hair from his forehead. "I'm gonna check in..." he said softly, rubbing his thumb over Spencer's. "You have a seat, huh?" "'Kay..." Spencer nodded, his voice low as well. They parted, and Tim resisted looking back to Spencer as he strode to the front desk to check in. As he waited for the concierge, he glanced back at the ex-Scout, who stood by the roaring fireplace. Spencer plucked tissue after tissue from a box on the coffee table, blowing his nose again and again. His third blow was interrupted by a muffled sneeze into the tissues, and Spencer sighed exhaustedly before blowing his nose once more. "Poor baby...." Tim couldn't help but chuckle to himself. "I'm sorry, sir?" He jumped and looked to the gentleman behind the counter, fumbling with his wallet. Once he got the room keys, Tim went back to find Spencer in the same position by the fire, though he was now shivering. Before Tim could ask, Spencer said, "I'm soaking....d-didn't wanna sit down...." he sniffled, clutching the tissues in his fist. Tim nodded in understanding, slipping an arm around Spencer's shoulders to start for the elevator. "Aww, babes, you're freezing...." Spencer shook his head, hugging Tim's jacket tighter around himself. "N-Nah, I'm alright..." he murmured, letting his head lull on Tim's shoulder as they waited for the elevator. Barely a moment passed before he took in a shaky breath. Spencer rose a sleeve to his face, but didn't make it before sneezing wetly down towards his chest. "HIiiKKCHUUU!! Ughh...." he breathed, lashes sliding shut with a sniffle. "S-Sorry, B....I think I've sneezed on every inch of your jacket by now..." "Quit being sorry...." Spencer didn't answer that, but gave Tim a small smirk. "I....liked you callin' me 'babes', though...." Tim rose his eyebrows and chuckled. "You did? Heh, well, now you're permanently 'babes' in my book..." He lead Spencer into the elevator once the doors opened, his arm still protectively around the other man. "...What changed your mind?" "Huh?" "I mean...y-you weren't real interested in....PDA, or....I dunno....bein' in a relationship before..." Spencer shrugged. The words 'in a relationship' sent a strike of fear into Tim's heart, but it also warmed it. "...I'm interested in you," he finally decided on, placing a kiss on Spencer's temple. "And that's all I care about. Our friends....Well, hell, they don't need to know...." Spencer was quiet a moment before meeting Tim's eyes. "Well....m-maybe I want them to know. N-Not right now, but....I mean....I know this is sort of our 'first date' and all, but....I mean, we're real into each other...and if we want to keep this up...then I would want to tell them after a while...." Tim nodded, shame tugging at his soul as he knew he never wanted another soul that they knew to know about this. He wasn't gay. Spencer wasn't gay. Well, hell, maybe Spencer was, but Tim wasn't and he refused to entertain the idea. This was....not a mistake, but more like a one-time thing. Maybe these feelings would pass? The thought hurt the hell out of his heart, though. He felt a stab of panic at the thought of being without Spencer, but he also panicked at the thought of telling another soul about this.  "We can talk about it more as we go....Alright?" Tim finally said, hoping Spencer didn't note how completely freaked he was. A small smile pulled at Spencer's lips. "Alright...Thanks, B..." Before the elevator reached their stop, he turned and fully embraced Tim, who took a step back in surprise. They were soon both melted in the warm, affectionate hug, holding each other silently. Until Spencer sneezed, anyway. He didn't release Tim all the way; Just pulled back so he could reach up with one hand, burying his nose in the huge jacket sleeve. "HuuUHHCHHUUU!! Ohhhh---sorry...." Tim didn't let Spencer pull back, yanking him back into the hug. His mind raced with thoughts of Spencer keeping hold of him while he sneezed, Spencer shuddering against him, Spencer letting out that weak little moan afterward, Spencer, Spencer, Spencer..... "....B?" Spencer quirked his head, looking down between the both of them. "You....You hard?" The elevator let out a pleasant little 'ding' when it stopped on their floor. Tim knew he wasn't able to blush much, but he felt like his face was six shades of red. "S-Sorry! Sorry, man,  I--- I didn't---I wasn't---" 

Before he could continue, Spencer kissed him hard, hands slipping to hold his waist. Tim didn't see any reason to reject the kiss, despite his embarrassment, and leaned closer into Spencer's embrace. The elevator doors began to close, and Spencer jabbed at the button to keep them open. "What's our room number?" he asked against Tim's lips. "1031...." "Let's go." Without another word, they hurried out of the elevator like there was a blazing fire in there. 1000, 1001, 1002.... "B....." Spencer said, eyes wide as he looked to the Alch. "Do you--- ah, I mean--- you got anything to...put on?" 1009, 1010, 1011.... "What? Like a condom?" "W-Well, yeah...." "Why the fuck would we need a condom? As if I'm gonna get pregnant!...Can you? If you can, I mean, it's totally cool, man, I don't care and I still wanna---" "No! I mean, cause--- well, haven't you been with a lotta girls?" Tim couldn't help but laugh. "Well, yeah! But my tech won't let me catch anything! You're safe! I promise!" 1016, 1017.... "A-And, I mean....look, dude, I-I ain't ever...." "Fucked a man? Shit, you think I have?" "N-Not that, but I mean--like---any...." Tim tried not to laugh, resulting in a strangled cough. "You're a virgin? That's so cute!" 1026, 1027.... "Sh-Shut up!" Spencer exclaimed, cheeks burning red. "I mean, I'm just not...I-I dunno if I...W-With a dude, anyway, c-cause I've never had anything---ya know, there...." 1031. "Don't worry about it..." Tim breathed, melting back into a kiss before he opened the door with a pleasing little 'click'. He pulled Spencer in, kicking the door shut behind them. He went for the jacket that had been serving as Spencer's well-loved warmth til them, beginning to unbutton it. He couldn't even admire the fancy hotel room. "I'll take care of you...." Spencer opened his mouth to argue, but the protest died in his throat as Tim moved their hips together, the both of them stiff by now. He went for Tim's buttons, practically having the shirt off before he buckled down towards both of their chests. "---GhHHSHHUUHHH!! S-SorrreeHHH--- HeEEKSHUUU!!" "God, bless you...." Tim panted, pressing a hungry kiss to Spencer's lips. He fumbled with the button of Spencer's jeans, but succeeded in no time. Once the jeans were off, Tim wasted no time in yanking down Spencer's boxers to expose his stiff, heated member. "Fuck....." came his breathless gasp as Tim sank to his knees. Spencer sniffled quickly, palming the underside of his nose to keep a runny nose at bay. He looked like he wanted to protest, but could only let out a shaky exhale as Tim took him into his mouth. Spencer leaned against the wall, hips giving an involuntary buck. "B-Baron..." he pleaded, head lulling against the wall. Tim himself was still stiff as a board, and he wondered if Spencer had ever pleased himself before. Surely, he had? 

“F-Fuck, B, I’m....I-I’m gonna...”

Tim closed his eyes and thought about Spencer in his bed at 2-Fort, back arching, fingers curled around his cock--- "HhihhHHHH--" As orgasm and a sneeze both built up so intensely, until he finally had to--- "HeEHHHGSHHUUU!!" Spencer snapped down towards Tim, the sneeze sneaking up on him while he was so consumed with being pleasured. At the same time, Tim couldn't help but moan around Spencer's member, his eyes rolling up as the best orgasm of his life ripped through him. "Ohhhh--- f-fuck----sorry...." Spencer panted, thighs shaking as his fingers wound in Tim's hair. He didn't even notice the other man's climax, far too distracted as he neared his own peak. Tim struggled to continue working at Spencer's member, his mind seemingly traipsing through time and space after that intense result. He had never come without having his cock in something or being touched by someone. He got ahold of himself soon enough, holding Spencer's thighs still as they trembled. Spencer let out a weak moan a few moments later, cumming with another buck of his hips. Tim took his release in full before giving Spencer’s member a few more finalizing licks. “Bless you....” he said softly before kissing Spencer’s tip. "B...." Spencer breathed, drawing Tim out of his previous thoughts. He flashed a tired grin, and despite the obvious delight in his face, Tim noted how he still shivered.  "Th-That was--! God!" "Oh, I think God's sort of shaking His head at us right now..." Tim snorted, rising to smooth Spencer's hair from his heated forehead. He took his hand to lead him to the bed, but Spencer stopped them just before reaching it. "Wait. I wanna get you off, too...." Spencer hummed, reaching down for Tim's cock, only to find it limp. "Huh--?" "I....sorta already came," Tim shrugged sheepishly, noting the splattered wall. "I'll clean that up before we go....I'm sure they charge extra for cummin' on the wall...." Spencer blinked in surprise but couldn't help snorting. "You couldn't really have been that turned on by me sneezin' on you?" "What--!? Of course not! I was just-- excited---and---" "Calm down, I was just kiddin'...." Spencer chuckled a bit hoarsely. "As if you're like Elle with that kink a’her’s....B-But, heh, sorry about that...Couldn't really help it, I was so..." "Enthralled with my cocksucking abilities? Yeah, they're pretty great. Thank you for noticing." Spencer rolled his eyes and smirked, giving him a light shove before pulling back to cough against his fist. "Sorry..." he winced, palming the underside of his nose. "Cold weather still gettin' to me...." Tim's expression softened as he sighed. He gingerly lowered Spencer's hand so he could kiss his nose. "You've just got a cold, Spence...." Spencer flushed and looked down. "....M-Maybe....Just don't tell Leon, huh? Or Jo! God, she's even freakier than Sasquatch....Or Eloise, cause then she’d just worry...” Tim chuckled and nodded, rubbing his thumb over Spencer's. "I won't breathe a word. Now, you get in bed, and I'll run downstairs and grab something to eat." "Let's just stay here for now, huh? I just want....” Tim nodded, pulling back the blankets on the bed. "I just want you, too..." he said with a fond smile, bringing Spencer to burrow under the covers with him. He blushed as the ex-Scout nestled cozily against his chest and asked, "I-I'm not too cold for you, am I?" "Nah, nah....you're actually pretty warm for once, dude...." Spencer sniffled, rubbing his nose with his wrist. He stifled a yawn against a curled knuckle, lashes sliding shut. "I'm....I'm real happy...th-that we're tryin' this out....you 'n me..." Another pang of fear struck Tim's heart. He swiftly swallowed back the panic and kissed Spencer's hair. "I....I am, too...." And they stayed curled that way, listening to the rain tap against the windows, walls, and the cloudy Boston streets.