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5sosspicedrosey · 5 years ago

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Blue Sweater (Ashton Irwin) FULL

Word Count: 2.3 K a smaul bean

Warnings: light innuendo (they’re dirty boys what do you expect), light cussing

Pairing: Ashton Irwin x Reader

"Babe, have you seen my blue sweater." Ashton, your boyfriend called from down the hallway.

"Um no...?" you called back, barely attempting to cover up the uncertainty of your answer.

"No?" The voice repeated from the doorway where Ashton stood with arms crossed over his chest, looking down at your body sprawled atop of the bedroom carpet. "You sure about that baby girl?"

You nodded, grinning deviously at him while tucking your fingers into the pocket of his blue sweater, having no intentions of giving it back anytime soon.

Ashton pushed his body away from the door frame and stepped over your legs and torso so that each of his feet were placed aside each of your hips. leaving his body to stand over yours.

"So the blue sweater that you are currently residing in, the one I'm fairly certain smells like my hair product isn't the blue sweater I'm looking for? My only blue sweater?"

“That would be a no.”

“I don’t believe you.”

“This is definitely my sweater.”

“Are you calling me a liar?”

“Well I ain’t calling you a truther!” You giggled back the last words at the sheer ridiculousness of your relationship. Here you were lying on the bedroom floor in Ashton’s sweater with mile long sleeves quoting Drake and Josh to him while he stood over you keeping you in place.

“You know you’re adorable right,” stated Ashton, not even bothering to pose the sentence as a question.

“I aim to please.”

“However, I am going to need that sweater back.”

“Well that’s going to be a problem because this sweater is occupied.”

“Occupied?”

“Mm hmm, by me. In case you haven’t noticed.” You threw in the last part to add a bit of sass.

Ashton laughed and shook his head. He loved the view below him. He loved how cheeky you looked with your hair a mess against the carpet, grin prominent on your face. He loved the way his blue sweater looked against your skin. He loved the fact that you were wearing short pants and a long sleeve sweater despite the fact that you usually wore short sleeves with short pants and long sleeves with long pants. Little things like that mattered to you but it made his heart warm to know that in the comfort of your shared home, you didn’t care what you wore, except at that moment you happened to care enough that you weren’t giving up the sweater without a fight.

“You’ve chosen to be a brat today have you?” he asked from above you. “You know what happens to brats, don’t you.”

You picked at your fingernails while pretending not to notice Ashton talking to you. He bent down so that his hands rested on each of his knees, bringing himself down to emphasise his words. However you continued to ignore him and hum away.

“Baby girl?”

“Yes?” you answered innocently.

“Are you going to apologise?”

“For what?”

“For being a brat.”

You pretended to think long and hard about that one while the sliver of a smirk crept onto Ashton’s face, both assuming what you were going to say and where things would lead.

“You know what, I’m sorry for being a brat.”

“What?” Ashton was taken aback by your words, fully expecting you to not give into the apology. You had completely taken him by surprise.

“NOT!” There it was.

“Alright, you asked for it!” Ashton came the rest of the way to the floor to straddle your body just above your hips. Quickly his hands, coupled with yours, were flush against the carpet. You felt the pressure in your wrists but knew that he was being playful and wouldn’t ever do anything that would hurt you in anyway.

“Not to sound cliche babe,” he began, “but there’s an easy way and a hard way. I’m not going to tell you what either consist of but I would recommend you take the easy way and just apologise,” he told you, smirking as he spoke.

“You don’t scare me, you’re all talk.” you told him whilst remaining in place, cool as could be.

“That so?”

“Mhm, you’re just a big soft cinnamon roll.”

“That’s it.” One of his large hands moved to clasp both of your wrists together while the other danced over your torso, transferring enough pressure from his fingertips to your skin to elicit audible squeals and giggles from you. His fingers followed a pattern, never remaining in the same spot for more than a few seconds at a time. Ribs, neck, underarms, back of the knees and back to your ribs.

Ashton blew a playful raspberry into your neck as you withered under his body gleefully.

“Ash! Stop! Please!” you squealed, “You’re going to make me pee myself!”

The hand that had previously been attacking you lifted from the “tickle zones” and came to rest on you. His palm lay flat against the middle of your ribs, fingers outstretched, feeling the waves of your chest with every heavy breath that you tried to catch.

“Are you ready to apologize?”

“Yes.” you panted.

“Okay, well why don’t you catch your breath and I’ll wait for it.” Ashton hummed.

A few moments passed in order for you to calm your breathing and heart rate as Ashton looked on at you in a playful admiration.

“Ready?” he asked. You nodded.

“I’m sorry.”

“For what?” He was not going to let you get off easily this time.

You giggled. “I’m sorry that your sweaters are better than mine and that you can’t keep your hands off of me!”

“Oh you devil!” Ashton exclaimed giggling. His fingers returned to their last mission as you squirmed from your spot on the bedroom floor.

“Ahhh,” you thrashed against him as his hand traveled to the sensitive area on base of your back. “Ashton the tickles!”

“That’s kind of the point, babe.” he counters. “This is your punishment.”

Suddenly, the bedroom door flew open and three wide-eyed bandmates entered the scene.

“Sure, just come right in why don’t ya. Don’t worry about calling ahead of time.” Ashton remarked sarcastically. His fingers ceased their attack on you as Calum, Luke, and Michael sighed in relief, now realizing that both you and Ashton were okay-just goofing around.

“Sorry mate, heard the screaming.” Luke said.

“Thought you two were having sex.” Michael winked in attempt to clear up Luke’s sentence in his own dirty way.

“You guys thought we were having sex so you all decided to barge in!?” you demanded from the floor. Calum hit Michael in the arm as you starred on. Luke only laughed and face palmed.

“No! That’s not true. Just checking to make sure that nothing was wrong,” Calum added, “For either of you.”

“We’re okay here.” Ashton said while lifting his hands from your body as if to prove a point.

“Oh you guys look like you are more than okay.” Michael said slyly referencing Ashton’s position on top of you.

“You know what,” Ashton stood up, “How ‘bout I walk you guys out. Seems like you’ve seen enough for a bunch of un-married wankers.”

Luke laughed again. You quickly stood up and followed Ashton and the men out of the room and into the large kitchen. Your boyfriend tried to encourage them out of the house but instead they all veered towards the fridge and each grabbed a cold beer.

Luke reached into the top drawer beside the sink for the bottle opener while Calum handed Ashton his own bottle.

Michael stood beside you grinning like a ten year old peeking in on the teenage neighbour girls getting changed. He opened his mouth to say something to you but you cut him off before he could even get a word out.

“Don’t,” you warned.

“Don’t what?”

“Don’t say whatever crass thing you were about to say.”

Michael laughed. “Wasn’t going to actually say it.” Then he muttered: “Not to you anyways.”

Luke walked up to you and bumped your hip. “You good?”

“Yes Luke,” you laughed. “Just having some fun, promise.”

“Alright,” he slyly winked at you as he left and started walking towards the couch in the living room prompting the rest of the men to follow.

Calum and Michael each took up their own seat while Ashton and Luke took up the couch. You went to take the middle seat between them but as you sank into the furniture, Ashton’s free hand snuck around your waist and pulled you onto his lap. He offered you a sip from the neck of the bottle but you declined.

Soon the room fell into a comfortable conversation about this and that. You leaned back into Ashton’s chest enjoying the vibrations you felt transfer from his body to your own when he spoke. After a few minutes Luke leaned forward to place his bottle onto the coffee table holding eye contact with you as he did so. He pulled out his phone and gestured to it as he typed out something. Almost instantly you felt your phone vibrate in your pocket. Ashton took no notice as you pulled it out to read the message that was presumably from Luke.

Wanna get revenge on Ash?

You looked up at Luke. His face was turned away, chatting with Michael who sat across from him.

You gonna tickle him or something?

His phone lit up in his hand. You saw him read the message and nod quickly to you then go back to his conversation with Michael. Meanwhile, his fingers tapped out a message without even looking at the keyboard.

Distract him for two seconds.

“Hey Ash,” his gaze followed your voice giving you his attention. “What do you think about peaches?” The question came out rushed and broken. What more could you do? You had less than enough time to come up with an appropriate topic to distract him.

“Peaches?” he asked.

“Yeah, like the colour.”

Ashton’s eyebrows furrowed as he contemplated what you were asking ever so randomly. Out of the corner of your eye you saw Luke make a few wiggle-y hand gestures to Calum and Michael and then point to Ashton. It took a few tries but eventually they understood what Luke was trying to tell them without the knowledge of Ashton.

“I think it looks nice on a sunset, why?”

“Umm, just thinking about a paint colour for the bathroom.” you lied.

“Hun we just re-did the bathroom not that long ago.” Ashton commented.

“Just a thought.” you jumped up before he could ask anymore questions. “I’m going to go get some chips, any request?” you asked.

“The weirdest flavour you’ve got.” Michael said loudly.

“Michael you can have your own bowl you disgusting chip-eater.” you told him jokingly.

“Hey!” he shouted back but with nothing else to add.

You ran for the cupboard that held the bags of potato chips and dumped the nearest bag into a large bowl and scampered back into the living room. You set the bowl onto the coffee table and looked over at Luke. Luke gave each Calum and Michael a signalling nod.

“I thought you were going to get Michael his own bowl-”

“NOW!” Luke shouted. All three of your guest threw their beer bottles onto the table and pounced onto Ashton at once. Calum forced Ashton’s bottle out of his hands while Luke and Michael each grabbed onto one of his arms, pinning them to the tops of the couch.

“Y/N, now!” Calum yelled as he worked on holding Ashton’s knees still for you.

“What are you guys-”

Ashton cut his own question off with a giggle as you jumped onto his lap placing both of your knees on either side of him while your fingers pushed the front of his shirt over his head in order to tickle his torso in return.

Ashton was proving to be much more difficult to hold down as his body jerked and wiggled against the couch. Both Luke and Michael were straining hard to keep their assigned arms while Calum was trying his hardest to not get struck in the face by one of Ashton’s bouncing knees. Not a single person in the room could contain their laughter as you worked your fingers into various places on Ashton’s body.

The fabric of his shirt muffled most of his words but his laughter was quite clear.

“How do you like them apples, Irwin? Hmm? Hmmmmm?” you demanded as you relentlessly kept on.

“Yeah, not so tough now are ya?” added Michael who, unfortunately, lost is grip on Ashton’s left arm causing him to fall to the floor. Now with one arm free, Ashton lunged himself onto Luke, taking them down to the floor. They fell half beside and half atop of Calum, who was lying on his back due to a swift knee to the chin. Within seconds all four men had fallen to the ground and were giggling like teenagers again, all without the aid of an exceptional amount of alcohol.

“You guys are assholes.” Ashton laughed.

“We prefer the term vigilantes actually.” Luke argued back.

Click. “The giggliest looking vigilantes I’ve ever seen.” You told them as you put your phone back in your pocket after taking a quick snap of their arrangement on the floor.

Ashton quickly sat up and pulled your body onto his. “You know I don’t think I actually got that apology from earlier.” he growled. His fingers dug into your sides, threatening to continue their earlier mission.

“How ‘bout a picture instead?” You held your phone screen up to his face to show him the scene. He looked around at Luke, Calum, and Michael who were still lying in the positions that they fell into. Everyone was grinning wildly from ear to ear, arms and legs tangled in a ball of Australian giggles.

“I guess you’re forgiven.” He gave your cheek a peck then stood up and threw your body onto the couch. “You boys staying for dinner? The brat’s cooking tonight.”

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-xx Reetz (let me know if you guys want a part two!)

#ashton irwin #ashton irwin imagines #ashton iwrin fanfiction #ashton irwin fanfic #ashton irwin 5sos #ashton irwin 5seconds of summer #sorry fro the click bait #reetz writes #hey its Reetz

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tsarisfanfiction · 3 years ago

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A Little Fall Of Rain

Fandom: Thunderbirds Are Go Rating: Gen Genre: Family Characters: Scott, John

Here is my contribution to @tagminibang! My artist was the absolutely fantastic @chenria and you can find her accompanying art over here. Something nice and family friendly from us here (please don’t mind the title, it has nothing to do with a certain musical song), and of course some good old Scott&John because who doesn’t love that?

John’s pulled one of his disappearing acts again, and Scott can’t relax until he knows where he’s gone.

People. There were people everywhere, all dressed to the nines and peacocking around. Nothing particularly unusual for an event hosted by Lady Penelope Creighton-Ward, where no-one in attendance was worth less than at least ten million dollars apiece and appearing to be the poorest in the room would make you a target for the vampires of the elite.

It was a gauntlet Scott would have gladly accepted, not particularly bothered by how others perceived him and his wealth, except the problem with being a Tracy was that his status of multi-billionaireness was well known, and he was actually richer than most of the aristocracy in attendance, even if there were a few Old Money families that looked down their noses at the Tracys for being New Money.

Still, the buffer of their wealth was, at least, sparing his brother from being preyed upon as the poor, charity case invited to look good. Scott wasn’t sure who the actual poorest person in the room was, but anything to keep at least some of the pressure of the occasion off of John was always worth it.

It was a well known fact that John despised this sort of event. Too many people, too much noise and gravity, too many expected conversations and a lot of interest in the elusive Tracy. Scott still wasn’t sure why Lady Penelope insisted he attend these things, and knew that John was going to hide himself up on Thunderbird Five for at least a month and come down for absolutely nothing or no-one as soon as he escaped the party. She called it good for him, and a breath of fresh air, and Scott only let it slide because John never actually said no.

Speaking of his brother, he’d once again lost sight of the distinctive ginger hair amongst the vibrant colours of the event. Hopefully, that meant that John was just in hiding, rather than the chance he’d been dragged into a conversation out of Scott’s current sight. He glanced around the room again, just to be sure, and when no flash of ginger caught his eye, set his shoulders and beelined for their host.

Resplendent in a stunning light pink ballgown, elegant hands covered with equally elegant white gloves and hair coiffed into something gravity-defying yet somehow not at all outrageous, Lady Penelope was entertaining an elderly woman who Scott had been briefly introduced to earlier in the event, some hours ago, as the Duchess of Royston. As far as the British aristocrats seemed to go, she seemed quite amicable, so Scott had no qualms about stepping in as their conversation paused.

“Sorry to interrupt,” he said, “but have you seen John recently?”

“Have you lost him?” Lady Penelope asked, sounding the faintest bit amused. If it was anyone else, Scott would have been annoyed at that, but a longstanding friendship with the Lady told him there was no malice or judgement behind it. It was the amusement of someone who knew how much John hated crowds, and how much Scott could, according to his brothers, hover. “I’m afraid I haven’t seen him recently.”

The answer wasn’t surprising, but it was a little disappointing.

“The redheaded young man?” the Duchess asked, and Scott turned to her. “I do believe I saw him heading for the doors earlier.” She gestured to the small side door that led out of the ballroom and, if Scott’s memory served, towards the gardens.

John was likely hiding, then.

Scott smiled at both women. “Thank you,” he said, inclining his head a little towards the older of the two. “I’ll leave you to your conversation. Sorry again for the interruption.”

“What a charming young man,” he heard as he walked away. “Penelope, I know it’s not my place to say, but you could do far worse than a man like that.”

Scott picked up the pace a little, determined to get out of earshot of whatever reply to that Lady Penelope would make, and making a note to never let Gordon know.

The rich like to talk to the rich, and although Scott was on a mission to find and check on his brother, he was waylaid by at least three other people all wanting to discuss all manner of things from International Rescue to, disconcertingly, his ongoing bachelorship before he was able to slip through the door and head down the corridor.

Soundproofing cut off the hubbub of conversation the moment the door clicked shut behind him, proving an excellent argument for why John would come this way, and Scott followed the hallway until he found a bay window that overlooked one of the many gardens in the Creighton-Ward estate.

John was perched on the window sill, although window seat was probably a more accurate term, looking out at the gentle rain falling from the sky. Raindrops raced each other down the panes of glass, and Scott silently settled next to him, waiting to be acknowledged.

It didn’t take long. “I’m fine,” his brother said quietly, still looking out the window rather than turning to face him. Scott hadn’t expected him to. “You can go back.”

Scott let out a wry chuckle. “The hot topic right now seems to be how eligible a bachelor I am,” he said, leaning forwards on his knees and watching his brother out of the corner of his eye. “If you don’t mind, I think I’d quite like to stay here until they move on to other things.”

His brother let out a hmm, sounding thoroughly amused at that, and Scott rolled his eyes. He knew full well that John was more than happy for him to be the target of that particular type of conversation, because it meant most of them would forget to ask him the same questions. Sibling solidarity only went so far, and perhaps even more so than the rest of his brothers, John was all too willing to throw him under the bus to evade the limelight himself.

“If they follow you here, I am leaving,” John threatened mildly. “And then you will not be welcome to follow me.” It wasn’t an empty threat, but that didn’t matter because Scott would always use himself as bait if it meant a brother could escape a bad situation. Besides, John knew Lady Penelope’s manor far better than he did, and Scott knew if John really wanted to hide, even he wouldn’t be able to find him until the ginger was ready to be found.

It wouldn’t be the first time, after all. John had never been a fan of social situations and had mastered the art of disappearing young. Scott had many memories of running around frantically, trying in vain to find where his brother had got to after taking his eye off of him for two seconds. For someone with such vibrant natural colouring, John was unfairly good at the vanishing act.

He sighed and settled back against the window pane more comfortably. At least John was old enough now to look after himself if he did vanish, and would always come home eventually - even if it was only a necessary stop on his way back to Thunderbird Five and the stars while he recuperated from socialising. It was a marked improvement from when he’d vanish as a child and leave everyone in a panic until he reappeared hours later.

Scott had never quite shaken the instinct to panic when he vanished, no matter how old and self-sufficient his brother was now.

“I can hear you thinking from here,” John said suddenly, and Scott glanced up at him again. He was still watching the rain out the window, seemingly disinterested in paying any attention to his older brother - aside from the comment, which made it perfectly clear that John was, in fact, keeping track of him with at least part of that big brain of his. “I told you I’m fine.”

“I know you are,” he assured him, feeling the cool of the glass seep towards his scalp from where he was resting his head against the window.

John gave a considering hum. “In that case, I’ll assume you’re working yourself into a panic unnecessarily.”

Scott huffed, unwilling to concede the point. “I am not working myself into a panic,” he retorted, a little defensively.

His brother finally turned his head away from the window slightly, enough for one turquoise eye to come into view. The accompanying ginger eyebrow rose in challenging disbelief and Scott scowled in response.

“I was just thinking about all the vanishing acts you tend to pull at things like this,” he admitted after a moment. The visible turquoise eye rolled at him before John turned back to face the window. He didn’t say anything in response, but he didn’t need to; his body language broadcasted perfectly well that he thought Scott was being an idiot.

Scott was used to that attitude - none of his brothers ever seemed to fully appreciate what it was like to be their big brother, after all. Gordon might proudly claim that his grey hairs were all down to his fish of a brother, but the truth of the matter was that they’d all contributed.

Still, Scott wouldn’t change any of them for the world.

Raindrops raced down the large window, merging and lingering and swallowing smaller ones before darting several inches further down in a blink of an eye. It was a mesmerising sight; no wonder John was so captivated by the weather.

Then again, he didn’t get rain in space.

Scott was on his feet before his mind caught up. His movement caught John’s attention, judging by the way the single, turquoise eye reappeared to regard him once more.

“Going back already?” his brother asked. “I thought you were hiding from the discussions about your eligible bachelorship.” There was no sympathy at all in John’s voice, just an undercurrent of amusement. Scott suspected he wouldn’t be hearing the end of it for a while.

“No,” he said truthfully, which was apparently unexpected enough for John to look away from the window completely.

“Then where are you going?” his brother asked. John was normally far too perceptive for Scott’s liking, and he probably shouldn’t be relishing catching him out as much as he was.

“Come on,” Scott invited in answer, tilting his head towards the window. “Let’s go.”

John glanced back towards the window, raising an eyebrow at the rain still falling. “You want to go outside?”

“Why not?” Scott shrugged. “No-one’s going to chase us out there.”

“Because their clothes would get ruined,” John pointed out. “Like ours will.”

Scott rolled his eyes. He wasn’t so attached to the suit he was currently wearing that he’d mourn the loss, and he knew John felt similarly about his own formal clothes.

“They’re replaceable,” he pointed out. “So, are you coming?”

John’s arguments didn’t fool him one bit - one thing his brother truly missed when he was amongst the stars was the cool sensation of rain on his skin, and Scott suspected that the only reason he’d been sat in the bay window instead of somewhere in the Creighton-Ward’s impressive grounds was because he’d known Scott would come looking for him sooner or later, and would have panicked if he couldn’t find him.

Sure enough, with one last sigh that was entirely put-upon, John extended his long legs and made his way to his feet. “Lead the way.”

Scott wasn’t as familiar with the manor as his brother, but he had a pretty good idea where most of the external doors were. John stayed at his shoulder as they passed through the hallways, bereft of any of the other guests, who were all no doubt still gossiping in the ballroom, and found a door that led outside.

The rain wasn’t a monsoon, but it was steady, leaving the sky heavy and grey, and misting out the trees on the far edge of the lawn. Scott lingered in the threshold of the door for a moment, watching the weather, but his brother had no such hesitation.

A little brother he might be, but John had never needed Scott to lead the way. With the assurance that Scott now knew where he was, and wouldn’t be hunting him down frantically, he strode out past him, the fabric covering his shoulder just brushing Scott’s, and out into the rain.

Scott lingered a moment longer, watching the way John tilted his face up slightly to greet the rain, the ginger curl of his bangs losing some of its volume as it dampened. John didn’t beam like their brothers when he was happy, but there was a relaxation in his face and a draining of tension in his body that told Scott that he’d got it right. John really had wanted to go out in the rain.

When his brother’s vibrant eyes slid closed, he took the final step outside himself, feeling the cool raindrops caressing his own skin and seeping into his hair. His hair gel was going to wash out if he stayed out here for too long, but that was a small price to pay to see John enjoying himself down on Earth.

So was the suit. The already black fabric of his jacket darkened even further with water almost immediately, and he knew that by the time John was ready to go inside again, it would be completely ruined. As he’d said to his brother, though, the suits were replaceable.

John’s happiness was not. Scott would ruin a hundred jackets if it meant seeing John so relaxed and content.

Jacketless, his brother’s shirt was quickly becoming soaked through, the white material clinging to his body - the same way his vibrant hair was starting to plaster to his scalp - gaining hints of translucency, and the thought crossed Scott’s mind that he’d have to make sure John didn’t get sick later. The astronaut didn’t seem to care about that, though, standing stock still for several minutes with his hands loosely hanging by his side and his face tilted upwards.

Scott hung back, several paces away but still outside in the rain himself. Cool droplets trickled down the back of his neck, originating somewhere around his hairline, and he could tell even without raising a hand to check that his own hair was plastering itself to his scalp in much the same way as John’s. One droplet ran down from his forehead and caught the corner of his eye, tangled up in eyelashes, and Scott blinked twice to clear it. Reluctantly it got the message and carried on down his face, running over his cheek and trailing down towards his chin.

They didn’t get rain like this at home. English rain was strange, and definitely nothing like the tropical rains Tracy Island witnessed. Even Kansas weather had been different to this. The water was cool and refreshing on his skin, and after several moments Scott took another couple of steps forwards, towards his brother.

He didn’t enter his personal space, though. If John wanted him there, he would make it clear - most likely by moving himself until he was within arm’s reach of Scott. As they’d come out here to escape the crowds, however, Scott deemed that unlikely. Instead, he wandered past him, away from the manor and large ballroom windows. If the wrong person looked out and saw them, their little rainy peace would be broken by someone else who cared less for their clothes than chasing Tracys.

Scott made sure to keep John in view, not prepared to hunt his brother down if the ginger pulled another disappearing act, even as he found a lone tree standing proud in the middle of the manicured lawn and slipped around it, allowing the trunk to conceal him from anyone glancing outside.

Exactly what type of tree it was, he didn’t know, but it was large and broad, boughs extending out above his head and providing a meagre shelter from the rain. It was the same as the trees that made up the woodland at the far edge of the lawn - also large and proud, but with enough space between some of them to hide a Thunderbird. His own ‘bird lurked inside, concealed from view and waiting to carry the two of them back home the next morning.

Tonight, Lady Penelope had insisted, they would stay with her, and Scott had no reason to decline. He did, however, hope that it was an invitation that hadn’t been extended to any of the other guests. Evading their apparent fixation with his marriage status - or lack thereof - was not something he wanted to have to spend all night and breakfast doing as well.

No matter how amused John might be at the whole affair.

Speaking of John, his brother appeared to have noticed that he’d moved, because he’d opened his eyes and started moving forwards himself.

“I thought I was supposed to be the one hiding from the party,” the ginger commented, his voice dry and at odds with the wet shirt he was wearing. The white had gone well and truly translucent now, clinging to his body in a way that Scott knew from experience would get John hounded by half the party the next time they saw him.

He made a mental note to sacrifice his jacket in John’s direction before they went back in. It wouldn’t be a perfect fit, but it would at least keep the attention off of him long enough for John to scrounge up a change of clothes.

“Yeah, well,” he replied, shrugging. “It wouldn’t matter which of us was hiding if they spotted the other, would it?”

John let out a small chuckle in response, rounding the tree in its entirety and therefore putting himself out of sight as well. “Are you sure it’s not just because you don’t want them badgering you about being single?”

He huffed in response, crossing his arms and leaning back against the trunk. The bark rubbed against the back of his jacket, but he ignored it. The rain had already done enough damage - what was a little more?

“My relationship status is none of their business,” he grumbled, shooting his younger brother a considering look. “Wait until they start on you.”

The smirk he got in return didn’t make him feel any better.

“They won’t give me a second glance while you’re around, big brother,” John pointed out with the air of someone who knew exactly what was up, and was quietly smug about it. “No-one’s interested in the spare Tracy.”

Scott rolled his eyes. “You know, technically you’re my heir,” he reminded him. It did nothing to douse the smug smirk his brother was sending his way.

“They don’t think like that,” John shrugged confidently. He was still out from underneath the protection of the boughs, rain falling on his skin and leaving trails of water across it. Scott watched a raindrop run right to the tip of his nose and hang there; the astronaut didn’t even seem to notice, even though it made Scott’s own nose twitch empathetically. “The only heirs they’re interested in are the unborn ones you don’t have because you’re still an eligible bachelor.”

Urgh. Scott pulled a face. “Did you have to put it like that?”

John’s ongoing smirk confirmed that yes, he did have to phrase it like that. Little brothers - who wanted them?

Scott refused to give John any satisfaction by saying that out loud, although he suspected that didn’t actually matter. If there was anyone who had mastered the art of mind-reading, Scott would put John right at the top of the suspect list.

“Well,” John said after a moment, shifting his weight. “I’m going to go for a walk. Are you coming, or would you rather hide under the tree?”

“I’m sheltering,” Scott corrected. John made an uh huh noise in the back of his throat which he purposefully ignored. Still, if John was offering company, instead of retreating into his own personal space, then Scott wasn’t going to turn that down. The problem with John living in space was that he just didn’t get to see this particular little brother in person as much as he’d like.

He pushed off from the tree, straightening up and shoving his hands in his pockets as he took the couple of short steps back out into the rain. John hadn’t bothered to wait for him, and he had to jog a couple more paces before he was at his brother’s side.

It felt like the rain had got heavier, but the droplets were still cool and refreshing on his face, even if he could feel his hair wilting under the weight. Beside him, John’s hair had all but lost its usual curl, vibrant strands of ginger instead plastered to his forehead. His brother didn’t seem to care at all.

Despite inviting him along, John didn’t seem particularly inclined towards conversation as he picked his way across the expansive grounds of the Creighton-Ward manor. It was clear that this was far from his brother’s first time doing so; while Scott started getting a little turned around by all the identically pruned bushes and perfect flowerbeds, John continued unerringly as though it was his ridiculously large garden.

Not that Scott could really comment on the size of the Creighton-Ward estate when his own home consisted of an entire volcano. Both the ranch and the Kansas farm spanned equally large acreage; the Tracys had never been a stranger to calling huge swathes of land home.

John had easily spent enough time in this manor during his Oxford days to have the entire estate mapped out in that impressive brain of his. Scott resolved to never play hide and seek with him here.

The silence that hung between them was a comfortable one. On some levels, it was more touching and heartfelt than if John had wanted to talk - John was a huge fan of personal space, and being invited to share it, trusted to share it, when he had so clearly hit his socialising quota already was akin to an honour.

Rain continued to fall, Scott’s jacket feeling more and more sodden by the minute, but John never headed for anything remotely resembling shelter. The weather wasn’t particularly warm, either. By English standards it might have been passable, but being used to the tropics meant that Scott found it decidedly on the cool side.

John seemed unaffected, but then again John spent most of his time in a rigidly controlled environment and hated the heat. Scott still hoped he’d be able to persuade Parker to get them both a hot drink when they re-entered the manor building. Then again, he wouldn’t put it past the older man to bundle them straight to their rooms with layers of blankets and disapproving mumbles. The former crook liked to pretend he was as tough as nails - and in some respects he was - but he was also quick to fuss over the few friends he had.

Being counted amongst that number was almost as high an honour as being invited to share John’s personal bubble.

Sunbeams poked out from behind the grey clouds as they were strolling through one of several rose gardens - or maybe it was the same one and John had led them around in circles a few times. In answer, the rain faded away into nothing and the world hung, heavy and still. John stopped walking, and Scott followed suit.

Above them, the clouds were dispersing. It seemed that the rain was over, at least for now, although the world around them shimmered a little like crystal as sun caught beads of water clinging to the flowers, the grass, the trees. John glistened as well, his hair transformed into a burning halo as the sun caught the water plastering it to his scalp.

Hands in his pockets and face once again tilted to the sky, Scott’s little brother appeared to be considering something. What, there was no point asking. If John wanted him to be part of the decision making process, he’d say so. Scott suspected he was debating if he wanted to stay outside or duck inside the manor to escape the reappearing sun.

John missed the rain on Thunderbird Five. He did not miss the sunburn.

Sure enough, after a moment his brother turned to face him.

“I’m heading back inside,” John said. “Are you done hiding from your eligible bachelorness yet or are you going to stay out here?”

Scott huffed at him, narrowing his eyes in displeasure at the jab. John really wasn’t going to be letting that go any time soon.

“They’ll have moved topics by now,” he replied, a lot more confidently than he felt. In all honesty, he had no idea how long it would be the hot topic for, but if he stayed out later than John he’d never live it down.

“That topic won’t be dropped until you’re married with kids,” his brother pointed out. Scott scowled. “But if you’re sure you’re ready to go back in…” He trailed off meaningfully and, without waiting for Scott, started striding back towards the manor.

Not wanting to let his brother out of his sight, and maybe a little unsure of the paths back, Scott lengthened his stride to catch up with him again. Turquoise eyes glanced sideways at him, and John’s face settled into subtle amusement.

Scott decided it was best for his pride if he didn’t ask what was funny.

He glanced up at the sky as they walked. The shimmer of moisture in the air was fading as the sun grew stronger and the clouds continued on their merry way to deposit rain on some other part of the English countryside. It wouldn’t be raining again just yet.

His foot caught something hard and he stumbled. Instantly a vice-like grip appeared on his arm, yanking him back upright and steadying him.

“And you call me the clumsy one,” John commented lightly. “Watch where you’re walking.”

Scott glared down at the flowerbed border he’d apparently walked into before switching targets to his brother. John, as always, seemed completely unperturbed at the look. Turquoise eyes looked him up and down, clearly making sure he hadn’t somehow hurt himself with his stumble, before the grip on his arm vanished and John continued down the path.

Sending another glare at the border, Scott followed.

Being behind John quickly brought back the reason why he’d been checking the sky. While the rain had stopped, the white shirt his brother was wearing was still very soaked through, with the consequences of that on full display. Scott shrugged out of his own, soaking wet, jacket.

“John,” he called, lengthening his strides to catch up. His brother paused and turned back to look at him quizzically, jumping as Scott draped the waterlogged jacket over his shoulders.

“What are you doing?” the astronaut asked, making to shrug the fabric off. “Carry your own jacket, Scott.”

Scott caught the fabric before it could fall to the ground. “John, you’re wearing a white shirt.”

A single eyebrow raised. “Your observational skills are unparalleled.”

Little brothers. Scott huffed. “And yours are lacking,” he retorted. “You wore a white shirt in the rain.”

John looked at him, puzzled, for a moment, before comprehension dawned across his face. A quick glance down had his pale skin reddening slightly.

“Oh.”

Scott shook his head fondly and draped the jacket around his brother’s shoulders again. This time it was gratefully accepted. They weren’t quite the same size, but Scott’s shoulders were the broader of the two, so while the fabric bunched a little oddly when John threaded his arms through the sleeves and fumbled the buttons until it was concealing as much of the wet white shirt as possible, it did at least fit. Scott was grateful it wasn’t Virgil.

“You might want to go and get changed into something dry,” he suggested. “Get out of those clothes.”

“I didn’t bring a spare suit,” John reminded him. “I don’t have anything else with me suitable for Lady P’s party.”

Scott rolled his eyes and started walking again. “Then just don’t come back to the party,” he said bluntly. “That’s not exactly a tragedy for you. You can see Lady Penelope again once it’s over - she won’t care what you’re wearing.”

“She will care,” John corrected, catching up to him. “She’ll judge my outfit and everything.” Despite the words being ones of apparent complaint, he didn’t actually seem that bothered about it. Then again, he had survived going to university with the woman. Their friendship was on a completely different level compared to the one the rest of the Tracys shared with her.

“Just go and get yourself out of those wet clothes and make yourself comfortable for the rest of the evening,” Scott sighed. “I’ll make your excuses.”

“If I need to get changed, why don’t you?” John challenged. Scott grinned at him and tapped his own shirt.

“Not white,” he pointed out. Well, admittedly, he would call it white, but according to Virgil it was cream, and according to the weather that combined with the covering jacket meant that it hadn’t gone the same way as John’s white shirt. “Ergo, still appropriate for polite company.”

John scrutinised him for several moments as they walked, as though he was trying to find an excuse why Scott’s outfit wasn’t appropriate any more.

“You’ll get sick if you stay in wet clothes too long,” he said eventually. “Make sure you come up and get changed soon.”

“I don’t have a spare suit, either,” Scott admitted. “I’ll be fine.” It couldn’t be that many more hours before the end of the party, surely…

“If you’re not up in half an hour I’m sending Parker to extract you,” John said firmly. “Virgil will have both our hides if you go home sick.”

“Half an hour?” Scott repeated. “I’ll be lucky to talk to Lady Penelope by then. You’ll have to give me longer than that.” There was no point telling John not to enlist Parker at all - his brother would hum non-committedly then do it anyway the instant he was out of earshot.

John scoffed. “You’ll find a way,” he said confidently. “Just flirt your way through the crowds like you normally do. Half an hour, then Parker will get involved.”

They’d arrived back at the manor itself, and John sent him one last smug grin before vanishing up what had to be a servant’s staircase before Scott could try another attempt to bargain for more time. With a quiet groan, Scott adjusted his damp tie and headed back towards the ballroom.

His wet - and likely bedraggled - appearance caused a stir when he re-entered the room. Conversations stopped, eyes stared, and then the whispering started. Well, he’d take them talking about him over attempts to restart the conversations about his relationship status.

He scanned the room for the tell-tale flash of pink, locating Lady Penelope just before she came to a stop in front of him.

“I was under the impression you were looking for John, not trying to impersonate a drowned rat,” the Lady commented lightly. “You also appear to have misplaced your jacket, Scott.”

He shrugged lazily. “John wanted to go outside.”

“I see.” From the fond look that flickered in her eyes, she probably did get it. The British aristocrat was the closest thing John had to a best friend, after all. “And where is John now?”

“Retiring for the evening,” Scott explained. “Or at least until the party’s over and the stars are out.”

Lady Penelope laughed a little at that. “I shouldn’t be surprised,” she agreed. “And what about you? I notice today’s main topic of discussion isn’t to your liking.” There was a twinkle of amusement in her eyes that was entirely too similar to John’s reaction.

Scott decided the best thing to do was ignore it.

“I should get changed,” he admitted. “I’ll see you after the party’s over?”

“I dare say you should,” Lady Penelope agreed, “before you turn my ballroom into a swimming pool. Very well, I’ll see you boys later.” She turned away, and immediately got caught in another conversation with a guest.

Scott took the opportunity to duck back out of the room, evading anyone who might want to corner him for further conversations that he really didn’t care for.

Parker was standing just outside the door.

“Ah, there you h’are,” the butler said as Scott narrowly avoided walking into him. “h’I h’understand you’re done for the h’evening?”

Scott checked his watch. “There’s no way it’s been half an hour already,” he said suspiciously.

“‘alf h’an hour since when?” Parker asked innocently. “Master John said nothing h’about h’a time limit.” No, of course John didn’t. Pesky little brother. “Well, h’as you h’appear to be trying to turn h’into a drowned rat, h’I’d say you need a nice warm drink h’and a change h’of clothes.”

“That’s the plan,” Scott admitted. “I’ll see you later, Parker.”

“That you will,” the older man agreed, and Scott paused with his foot on the bottom step of the staircase. “h’I’ll be bringing h’up some ‘ot chocolate for the pair h’of you in a few minutes. ‘Onestly, what were you thinking, going h’out h’in the rain like that?”

Scott shrugged. “John wanted to,” he said, before resuming his ascent of the staircase, knowing that Parker would make good on his promise and be up soon with the drinks.

The Creighton-Ward manor was huge, and the guest suites were equally so. There was no sharing of bedrooms when they stayed overnight, but as Scott entered the room designated as his, he discovered a brother lounging on his bed, tablet in hand. Ginger hair was ruffled and sticking up all over the place - a clear victim of a towel drying - and the soaked suit had been replaced by a much less formal shirt and jeans.

“Don’t you have your own room?” he asked, not breaking his stride as he headed for his overnight bag and pulled out a change of clothes.

“Parker’s bringing the drinks here,” John replied, not looking up from whatever it was he was reading. “It makes more sense for me to be here.” Scott huffed and worked his tie loose from around his neck.

“You just wanted to make sure I didn’t stay in the party,” he accused.

John didn’t deny it, and Scott rolled his eyes before heading into the ensuite to dry off and get changed into his more casual clothes. No more formal suit and tie for him tonight.

When he re-emerged several minutes later, his own hair rivalling John’s for towel-dried mess and begging for another round of brushing and hair gel, Parker had arrived with the promised steaming mugs of hot chocolate.

“Drink up, the both of you,” the man demanded. “Going h’out in the rain like that, I h’ask you.” He shook his head despairingly. “What will your Gran say h’if you go and get yourself sick?”

“We won’t get sick, Parker,” Scott said confidently, accepting his mug and letting the warmth seep from the ceramic into his fingers. “We didn’t get that wet.”

“Don’t h’underestimate the English weather,” Parker warned. “Drink that h’up and wrap h’up warm.”

John appeared silently at his elbow and claimed his own mug before retreating back to the bed. Scott watched him burrow his bare feet under the covers and huffed.

“That’s my bed, you know,” he complained. John lifted one shoulder in a shrug.

“So?”

“So, leave some room for me.” Mug in hand, Scott settled himself next to his brother, nudging him over gently. John obliged, and after a few moments of shifting around, the pair of them were sat shoulder to shoulder with their feet under the covers.

Parker eyed them approvingly, and then tossed a blanket over their laps as well.

“h’I’ll be back once the party’s h’over,” he told them. “Keep warm.”

“We’ll be fine,” Scott assured him. “You don’t need to worry about us.”

Blue eyes surveyed him suspiciously. “h’I know some people that’d disagree with that h’assessment, Mr Scott. But duty calls, h’I suppose.”

Parker was clearly reluctant to leave them for some reason, but he did begrudgingly go out the door, shutting it behind him and leaving the two brothers to their drinks.

The hot chocolate was, unsurprisingly, good, and Scott found himself draining the mug in record time. Beside him, John was almost as fast, and they set the mugs down on the bedside tables almost in unison.

“Parker makes the best hot chocolate,” John commented, and Scott couldn’t help but agree.

“He does,” he agreed. “I could go for another.”

“Well, then, I’m glad I finished mine before you got it into your head to steal it,” John said dryly. “You can ask him for another one later.”

“Yeah,” Scott said, leaning back against the headboard of the bed. “I might do that. This might all be overkill-” he gestured at the warm mugs and the blanket, subtly tucking them in the bed “-but even if we’re not going to get sick, that chocolate is worth it.”

The sneeze came out of nowhere. As did the second, and the third.

The fourth sneeze came from his brother, and Scott glanced over at him with a sinking feeling. Bright turquoise met his eyes, and John gave a wane smile before sneezing again.

“I think,” his brother said, before being interrupted by another sneeze, “that maybe this wasn’t so overkill after all.”

Scott buried his face in his hands. It did nothing to stop the next sneeze, and he groaned.

“You might be right,” he admitted. “Dammit. Virgil’s going to- achoo -kill us.”

John groaned.

#tag mini bang 2021 #thunderbirds are go #thunderbirds are go fanfiction #tsari write fanfiction #scott tracy #john tracy #lady penelope creighton-ward #aloysius parker #a little fall of rain #thunderfluff

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xxgoblin-dumplingxx · 5 years ago

Text

Cracked Foundation: One

“Tony you’re going to be late,” Pepper scolded. The genius in question looked up and sighed, glancing at the digital clock on the wall, “It’s not like I’ve ever been on time before.”

‘It’s Christmas Eve, Tony,” Pepper sighed, exasperated, “And she’s rearranged all of her flights just to come meet you. Because you asked. The least you can do is be on time.” Tony looked around and sighed, “Fine, fine. It’s not like I can’t just put her on a private plane.”

Pepper glanced at Bruce who was trying not to listen in and smiled a little sadly. It was a yearly struggle. If pepper didn’t know better she’d think Tony didn’t want to go. That he didn’t obsess about what he was going to wear and what he was going to say. Pepper walked away from the lab getting ready to call you. Getting ready to apologize and stall you.

At least she was going to. Until her phone started to ring. “Pepper Potts,” she answered.

“Hey, Pepper,” you answer, “Is dad coming or can I go catch my flight?”

Pepper sighed, “He’s coming, please don’t go. Not yet.”

“Pepper, I’m sorry. I can’t stay. I’ve got to go,” you tell her. She hears your voice crack and her own heart twists. “Please,” Pepper pleaded quietly, “Give him a chance? Just one.”

“Pep,” you say sounding defeated, “I gave him my whole life... Tell him all I want for Christmas... You know what? Don’t even tell him that. I don’t want anything. I just... Tell him Merry Christmas I guess. Take care of yourself, Pepper.”

Pepper feels tears sting the backs of her eyes as the line goes dead and she pinches the bridge of her nose, taking a deep breath. “Merry Christmas, kiddo,” she says to the empty air. “JARVIS?” she says a little louder.

“Yes, Miss Potts?” comes a voice out of the air.

“Please let me know when Y/N boards her plane and when it lands,” she says, starting up the hall, “And make sure her tuition gets paid.”

“Of course, Miss Potts,” JARVIS says in response.

That done, she bustled up the hall quietly, heels clicking efficiently.

_______________

“Tony,” Bruce starts.

“Yes?” he says looking up from his computer.

“Don’t you have a dinner date?” he asks.

Tony nodded, “Yeah,” he said, “In 30 minutes.”

“Tony,” Bruce scolds, “It takes you an hour just to get dressed.”

“It isn’t that kind of thing,” Tony said, “It’s just seeing my daughter.”

“How old is she?” Bruce asked treading carefully. He’d seen rumors in tabloids for years that this kid or that kid was secretly Tony’s.

“Fifteen,” Tony answered.

The other man nodded, “That’s the age, isn’t it?”

Tony nodded, “Yeah. I mean. She spends most of the year on the road with her mom’s band so... I guess college isn’t gonna be that much of a change for her.”

Bruce glanced at the clock and back at Tony, “Shouldn’t you get going?”

Tony glances at the clock and sighs, “Yeah. I guess.”

“You aren’t excited at all?” Bruce asked, “It’s not like you’ve seen her this year.”

“I keep tabs,” Tony said walking out of the lab, shrugging into a jacket.

Bruce watched him go and shook his head. It wasn’t his business but, it seemed like Tony wasn’t as okay with the arrangement as he seemed.

_______

Tony stood in the restaurant, at the table you were supposed to be sitting at. There was nothing but a chair slightly pushed out, a rumpled cloth napkin, and a half-finished soda. He sighed.

You’d never not waited before. You might have been irritated at him but you always waited. 15 minutes. He’d been 15 minutes away. He pulled out his phone and started to call you, listening as the phone rang twice and went straight to voice mail, “I could be dying!” he murmured, “C’mon, kid.” He dialed again and it didn’t even ring. “Fair,” he said nodding to himself, walking out, “I don’t want to speak to me either.”

The ride back was quiet. He didn’t play music. He didn’t even talk to JARVIS. There was a headache behind his eyes that throbbed viciously and all he wanted was a drink. And maybe a dark room to lay down in.

His car door slamming echoed in the quiet tower and Steve paused his wrench where he knelt tinkering with his bike, “That was a short dinner.”

Tony half shrugged, “Guess she got tired of waiting. She’s probably headed to Seattle by now.”

“What’s in Seattle?” Steve asked.

“A tour bus and a really anxious band,” he said, glad at least that you were going to see your mom for Christmas.

“Sorry, Stark,” Steve said sympathetically.

Tony shrugged, “It’s for the best, honestly. We ran out of shit to talk about when she was 8.”

Steve sat and stared for a second. He couldn't imagine Tony not having something to say. About anything. Tony didn’t seem to notice, he was scrolling through his phone quietly, frowning to himself as he disappeared into the elevator.

________

“Did she tell you what she wants for Christmas?” Tony asked, sprawling carelessly on a couch as he loosened his tie.

Pepper shook her head, “Just told me to tell you she said “Merry Christmas” and hung up,” she answered.

Tony felt his eyebrows raise, “That’s it?”

“That’s it,” She said smiling sadly.

Tony felt like he’d been punched in the stomach. You’d never asked for much. Not really. A small new piece of tech sometimes when what you had was outdated. New books fro your e-reader. Money for the trips you wanted to take. Never ponies or cars. Not even nice clothes. Most of the things you wore came from thrift stores. it had been the one way he knew how to connect with you. To give you whatever you had asked for, no questions asked. It had been what his father had done, just handed him to a nanny and given him toys.

He didn’t know how to deal with someone not wanting anything from him. Not one thing.

“Tony-” Pepper started.

“No,” Tony said, shaking his head, “It’s fine. I’ll just send her a new phone and see if she wants to go anywhere.”

“Miss Potts,” JARVIS said, “Miss Y/N’s plane has boarded but she is not aboard.”

Tony felt cold, “Where’d she go?” he barked.

“I have no further information, Sir,” Jarvis said.

Pepper and Tony exchanged a look and before armor covered Tony’s body and he blasted out of the roof.

________

“Look,” you sigh, “If you want information I don’t have it.”

The man in the suit that you vaguely recognized as someone your dad knew laughed, leaning casually against the counter, “Oh my dear,” he purrs, “I already know you can’t tell me anything. I don’t want what you don’t know. I want Stark to know there’s no where I can’t get to you.”

“Oooh,” you snort, “snatching me out of an airport. So fucking hard. What’d you do? Plant a cabbie?”

He stepped forward and smacked you across the face, hard. Never losing his mild expression, “You better hope Daddy shows up to play ball,” he says, “Otherwise it’s going to be a very unhappy Christmas for Mommy in Seattle.”

“What’d my mom ever do to you?” you ask, scowling, trying to get your hands free of the zip tie behind your back.

“Nothing,” he said, “She gave me the perfect bait. The perfect wat to get Tony Stark to come out and play.”

“Sure. Right,” you snort, “Pretty sure he’d not even notice.”

Hammer leans over you and tilts your chin up, “You better hope he does,” he hums.

“Ever hear of tic tacs?” you ask popping your neck. When he smacks you across the face again, the sound of a metal warehouse wall collapsing is deafening.

“Alright,” Tony said, “Give me back my kid.”

“Huh,” you say to no one in particular, “He did notice.”

_____________

In the tower, you were keeping to yourself. An Avenger’s Christmas party was in full swing and the side of your face hurt. All you wanted was for your mom to show up so this could be over.

Pepper was trying, bless her. There was Dr. Pepper and some vegetarian things to eat. She was also hanging near you, giving you a familiar face with Tony was busy drinking his feelings. “Your mom should be here soon,” she said softly.

“Thanks, Pepper,” you say smiling a little despite the pain. It wasn’t the first time you’d been smacked like that. It was enough to make you wonder if men took “how to backhand” as a special elective at school.

“How’s the face?” Happy asked, proffering an icepack.

“It’s fine,” you tell him, studiously trying not to notice your dad throwing an arm around Peter Paker’s shoulder. It stung in a way you couldn’t quite define. You weren’t jealous. It wasn’t an angry bitter feeling. It was a dull ache. A sense that nothing that had just happened really mattered.

Pepper glanced at the scene and looked back at you trying not to look. Trying not to be scene. Trying not to take up any more room than you had to. “I’m gonna wait for mom outside. It’s really hot in here.”

Happy nor Pepper makes a move to stop you, watching you duck out of Rhodey’s way and slip out of a sliding glass door onto a terrace, taking a seat on a bench, sitting cross-legged.

Pepper and Happy exchange a look with Rhodey. “Jealous?” Rhodey tried.

“Hurt,” Pepper said softly, “Tony missed dinner. Again.”

“He was only 15 minutes late this time,” Happy said fairly.

“That’s not the point, Happy,” Pepper said frowning., “It’s Christmas Eve... He should have been waiting. None of this should have happened.”

“Sir,” JARVIS said crisply, “Miss Jennifer is in the lobby.”

“Excellent,” Tony said, “Now it’s a party!”

____________

“Mom!” you yell, bolting into her arms. She smells like home. Opium incense and vanilla. Hairspray. Cigarettes and wintergreen gum. You want to cry but there are too many witnesses. She hugs you to her hard and frantically brushes hair out of your eyes. “Oh my god I was was so scared,” she said softly.

“I’m okay,” you murmur, “I just want to go home. Please. I just want to go home.”

She looks over your shoulder at Tony, “What did you do?” she said levelly.

“Nothing, mom. He didn’t do anything. I just want to go home,” you protest, glancing at Pepper and begging her not to say anything silently. Pepper gave you a silent sympathetic look and nods slightly, something Jennifer doesn’t miss.

You pick up your knapsack and turn away, carefully dodging out of the hug Tony tried to give you. You don’t want to be touched. Your skin feels prickly and uncomfortable and you’re holding back tears with a very fragile veneer of indifference. “Y/N,” Jennifer said gently, “Wait in the car, huh? I want to make sure we have the holiday schedule down for the year.”

You nod and walk away, keeping your head down and pretending you don’t see Peter either. You can’t be mad at the kid. He’s really nice, honestly. And smart. He’s more like your dad than you could ever be. The kid he should have gotten. But, that doesn’t make it not hurt.

Jennifer has a lot of things she wants to say. There’s bile churning in her stomach and it hurts. “I was going to ask you if she could finish school here. Give her a chance to actually go to school instead of woking from a lap top with some wifi,” she said, “But- you can’t even show up for dinner on time.”

“Jen,” Tony started, “I didn’t-”

“You didn’t think, you didn’t know, it’s not your fault,” she sighed, “Yeah. I’ve heard it all before.”

“Look,” he said, “I’d love to take her. It’s not like we don’t have room.

“Yeah,” Jen said, “sure. I’ll text you the schedule. You get her Birthday this year... Do me a favor? Don’t just drop her off somewhere.” She turns and follows you to the car, ready to get you back on the bus.

#tony stark #pepper potts #happy hogan #peter parker #bruce banner #angst

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a-robin-among-thorns · 6 years ago

Text

In The Shadows of the Rising Sun: Chp 9

Chapters 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Chapter 5, Chapter 6, Chapter 7 , Chapter 8

Once again so sorry for the delay on the chapter its been really crazy on my end. My sister had a baby, I got a new job and just the holiday to name a few ^^;

Chapter 9: Alone Together

Word Count: 2,210

Chise was hasty but diligent as she checked the apartment’s vacancy, silently thankful for the absurd lengths her cousin stretches out her business ventures. Seconds after the door clicks shut Elias emerged from the shadows in a rush and Chise sighed in relief. Although he had been present all day his long bony face is a sight for sore eyes. The sentiment was one he evidently shared for as soon as he was solid again he cupped her cheek in his right palm in almost reverent gentleness. He echoed her sigh, his breath sweeping over her red face in a rush, fanning the tips of her hair between his fingers.

It was so strange to be so sure that his feelings were exactly the same as hers. She blinked slowly, caught in the moment and hypnotized by his earnest gaze. The pads of his fingers fit in the curves of her jaw like she had done when she awoke beside him. She absently wondered if he recalled the action from his subconscious.

Belatedly, Chise pursed her lips and gripped her book bag tighter. If she wanted any hope of finishing her three days of math, not to mention her other subjects, she would have to start soon.

Her books spilled across the coffee table in a series of dull thuds. Fortunately, both science and history were reading assignments and the professors would never call on her if their lives depended on it. English was similar, translate and transcribe a paragraph of your choice from the provided kabuki play passages from hiragana to informal English. She normally dreaded this process, but her past days of constant English moved the work from a sluggish crawl to a leisurely walk.

All the while Elias hung just to the side of her. Although he sat corporally, he took the role of her shadow, all the same. Entranced in her movements eyes following where she goes, silent but ever-present.

Once the last character was redrawn as a letter she grumbled knowing it could be ignored no longer. Consulting her yellow sticky note, Chise split open the algebra textbook and set to work.

The process was slow and grueling. Finicky obnoxious measurements slowly scratched out to produce something that looked like effort went into it. She hated math on the best of days, this stupid fake math that can’t even be bothered to use numbers makes her want to pop a vein. But something about this assignment, aside from its extended length, grated at her nerves.

When it came down to it no matter how hard she would work on this assignment she would never understand it. She would work stressfully for several extra hours and receive a grade only slightly less abysmal than if she turned in nothing. It felt so pointless to toil and struggle for someone who wouldn’t pay her a passing glance. Who acted disgusted when she asked for help.

A hot gruff groan built in her chest and slipped through ground teeth, burning her nostrils. Distractedly she adjusted her bangs harshly and repositioned against the coffee table. In her shuffling, she didn’t hear Elias shuffle closer, peering over her shoulder. She jumped slightly when his hand slipped past her, the plum pad of his finger landing in between the unknown X and a pair of parenthesis.

“This one needs to be applied to all of the numbers inside the curves. It’s not a number, but it can still act like one.” He said simply. No trace of judgment or impatience could be found in his voice.

Her eyes followed his hand as he retracted. When their faces fell on each other he made a small nod in gentle urging. Her gaze returned to the paper. It couldn’t hurt. Slowly she applied his suggestion, more came as she worked, and the picture became clearer and clearer.

“Don’t forget to add and subtract this value because there are two possible answers.” She did just that and wrote out what had to be the closest thing to a properly done solution she had ever written. Another sigh spilled out, not of frustration but relief.

She leaned back on her elbow to look up at him fondly. “How do you understand math so well?”

His eyes crinkled in that glowing smile she had come to recognize. “When working with the fae, especially finicky ones, one must understand proportions and numbers. Even across different understandings. Many humans have met their end by accidentally slighting a proud spirit.” She chuckled at this, the absurd image of a faerie angrily stabbing at a calculator coming to mind.

As they worked together the heat of her frustration subsided. Her jaw relaxed and her breathing became less forced as her effort no longer felt futile. One after one they marked off the assigned problems until all 30 questions have a line struck through them.

The textbook closed with a satisfying thump as she brought the halves together like a grateful prayer. “Thank you for helping me. I couldn’t have done that on my own.”

His head tilted, “What have you done then?”

She shrugged, “I just turn in the best I can figure out.”

Elias looked back to the book between her hands. “And your teacher does nothing if you haven’t learned it?” He questioned.

“Pretty much.”

He was quiet at this looking pensive. As Chise began to put her work away the English assignment caught her eye reminding her of their conversation at lunch. “Would you like to look at this assignment with me? I can start teaching you Japanese.”

How could someone incapable of moving their face smile so plainly? “I would like that.”

He resettled again as she fished out the dictionary. “It’ll kind of be working backwards,” she mused aloud realizing the difficulty laid in front of her. “I’m probably not a very good teacher.” She admitted sheepishly.

“Any teacher is better than nothing.” He pauses, “Better than the teachers you have by the sound of it.” Chise stuttered unsure what to say when her attention snapped to the door and her heart stopped.

Tapping heels resounded through her eardrums like bass drums. In their shuffling the rattling of keys had been lost. Reina fidgetted through her purse and Chise and Elias were petrified as she looked up to the living room. Then back down at her purse.

She frowned and looked up again to Chise alone. She blinked in bewilderment looking to and fro as she skeptically walked forward. The frown on Reina’s face wanted to set in deep but her face was too confused to do so. “Were you...talking with someone? I could have sworn I heard…”

“I was just reciting my English,” Chise interjected forcing the most natural tone she could muster, “we have to read our translation aloud in class.”

Her cousin’s dark red lips pressed together disdainfully as her eyes searched the room. But nothing was disturbed, no exit could be that quick. And there is nowhere to hide in the barren apartment.

“Is...something wrong?” Chise probed in hopes of invoking her pride.

Reina’s posture realigned, regaining its commanding indifference as she unknowingly swallowed the bait. “No everything is fine.” She turned on her heels to place her purse on the kitchen counter. With her back turned, Chise steadily relaxed against the coffee table and stretched her fingers flat against the carpet. A warm shifting murmured against her palm, seeping between her digits.

“You spent a lot more than normal.” Reina’s sharp probing drew her out of the private moment. From the counter she stood with the remaining bills in hand, eyeing the child in her care like a hawk.

“I-i,” Chise gulped, mentally fumbling to come up with an explanation. “S-since it was my birthday Saturday I wanted to get something a little special.” Chise stutters, “Is that ok.”

Her predatory stare breaks as she blinks in realization. That had been this weekend, hadn’t it? “Um yeah, I guess.” She adds under her breath, “saves me from having to get a present.”

When Reina finally settled along the coffee table with takeout curry in hand, Chise felt as though she had lived through five separate heart attacks.

She was somewhat nauseous from the continuous back and forths but partook of her curry all the same. A few spoonfuls of spicy rice made the flip-flopping in her belly cease very quickly. The savory flavors danced on her tongue as she actually tasted a meal she should have been well familiar with. Although she would have happily devoured the entire container, a slight shift of her left hand reminds her to stop halfway.

As impatient an eater as she is everything else, Reina finished her rice soon after Chise and moved to throw away their containers.

Like a started rabbit Chise flung forward to guard her bowl from Reina’s grip, blocking her fingers from the plastic rim. Her brain catches up with her body as she slowly met her cousin’s eyes. Wide eyes narrowed like a bow pulled taunt, aimed at its kill. “What are you-“

“I was just wanting to save it for later,” Chise blurted, “maybe for breakfast.” She strained under the probing glare until Reina huffed and rolled her eyes. “Sure, that’s fine.” She sharply plucked her own bowl, standing in a fluid motion where Chise lay in her line of sight all the long way from the table to the trash. The timid clicking of the top and bottom of her plastic bowl resounded in the apartment as Chise watched Reina retire to her bedroom.

An eternity after Reina sealed herself in her bedroom the light under her doorway finally extinguished. A smaller eternity later, during which Chise showered and readied for bed, Elias had still not emerged from the shadows. From her futon, she ran her fingers all through the carpet. They met no resistance.

Suddenly nervous, Chise looked over her shadow. No red lights.

Her throat constricts in anxiety. Her mouth suddenly very dry, she croaked out quietly, “Elias?” Nothing.

She sat up like a shot, searching frantically. Red hair whipped from side to side before swishing toward the small hallway. A thicker patch of darkness slithered from the direction of Reina’s bedroom. Her heart relaxed once the shadow knitted itself back into her strange friend. His jaw parted in oblivious confusion. “Is something wrong?”

“No, but...I didn’t know where you were.”

His posture relaxed as his jaw clacked together in understanding. “I needed to be sure she was asleep before I emerged.”

At this confession her insecurity quelled and she found herself feeling oddly guilty. And clingy.

She wrapped her arms around his torso letting the warmth of his body permeate the icy chamber of her lonely heart. He gasped and returned the gesture, tucking his long jaw against her back. A light rumbling sigh vibrated against her sternum.

A similar rumbling from his stomach reminded Chise of the earlier injustice, prompting her to reluctantly untangle herself and make for the fridge. She tried to hand Elias the container of remaining curry but he refused. “You need to eat more.”

She frowned. “But you haven’t had any.” She pushed it toward him again. He held his palm up to push it away. “You haven’t eaten enough.” His eyes bore into her stern and urging.

She huffed and relented, prying the container open as quietly as she could. She dipped her fork in for a few more bites and swallowed roughly. She rubbed her mouth against her fist. “There,” she shoved the container somewhat defiantly at his chest, “now you have the rest.”

Elias nodded and made quick and quiet work of the food.

She sighed harshly as he ate, before returning to the futon. Deliberately she lowered herself onto her back, hair splaying across the ground and staring at the ceiling. Her mind felt both restless and sluggish while she deliberated what she should say. But as he laid nest her on his side nothing she has thought of felt correct. Chise looked up to Elias with guilt still lingering in her eyes. “Elias,” she whispered, “I’m sorry you had to hide here too. And that I didn’t teach you as I promised.”

He stared at her for a moment before finally answering, “it's not your fault.”

She opened her mouth but choked on her words. Chise knew it would be polite, right, if she told him that he did not need to stay if he wished not to. That he did not need to be tied to a place where his actions and presence were so harshly limited. But she was terrified, horrified, that he would take up the offer and leave her as she was before. Leave her like everyone else. Leave her...alone.

“I’ll make sure we have time tomorrow.” She promised in a small voice.

He hummed in agreement. She was not the only one feeling needy she realized as Elias settled himself to lie against her, his head tucked along her neck and his left hand taking her right. As her hand clasped back comfort washed over them. Chise still wished they had been given more time today, but with each other held close, she could be held content until tomorrow.

#The Ancient Magus Bride #mahou tsukai no yome #chise hatori #elias ainsworth #robinthorn #chise x elias #elias x chise #fan fic #fan fiction #stormy writes #I'll need to clean up those links at the top sooner or later :/

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quicksilverconnoisseur · 7 years ago

Note

Didn't you once mention beautiful Will teasing the confused fratboys at school? (✿´‿`) prompt ask

Oooh, such a good ask, anon!!! When I wrote that, I was thinking how, after Will had grown his hair out and started adopting more feminine clothing, he probably would be mistaken for a girl a lot, especially from behind. And then he would need to develop a kind of aggressive flirtation as a defence mechanism against homo/transphobic fuckboy grossness. Because, let’s face it, they’re going to find him extremely confusing because he’s so damn pretty.

Buuuuut… this ask got me thinking a little deeper. What if, in the midst of all that faux-testosterone yuckiness, there were one or two guys who found that they really did like the idea of getting closer to our genderfluid hero/ine?

I wasn't going to write anything for this and just shoot headcanons at you. And then this happened... (here be porn)

Riding in cars with boys

Warning for transphobic language & threats of violence

“Those guys are waiting for me again,” Will said. “I’ve got to go.”

On the other end of the phone, Bev made a strangled noise pitched somewhere between indignation and concern.

“I’ll be fine,” Will said. “Really. I’ll call you later.”

There were two of them, shadowy figures loitering under the tree close to his front door. They weren’t trying to hide, of course. Men like them never seemed to think they should, even when they were doing something to be ashamed of.

Without slowing his stride, Will put his phone away. As he drew closer, one of the figures stepped out into a patch of grass illuminated by a lamp overhead. Will didn’t recognise him but they all tended to look the same - broad shoulders, square head, team sweatshirt.

Will raised an eyebrow at him. “Can't stay away, can you? You must like what you see.”

The other figure joined the first, and said something Will didn’t catch. He was a bit shorter - the tall square one had to duck his head to listen. Then the second guy slapped him on the back, shoving him forward a little.

Now he was only a few feet away, Will realised he had seen him before. Hanging around the campus in the company of a particularly infantile group of frat boys Will would be happy to never see again. He slipped his bag off his shoulder, ready to drop it if he had to. What women were told about holding keys was not the best advice - you needed both hands free to fight properly.

“Either get out of my way or I'll make you get out of my way,” Will said. “You've seen me do it before.”

“Um,” the guy said. “Sorry, look, are you, um-”

“Am I, what?” Will answered. “Am I a girl or a boy? Am I a freak of nature or a disgusting pervert? Or do you just want to know what I keep in my pants?”

At least the guy had the grace to look abashed. “Yeah, see, don't listen to Chuck, he's an idiot. Everyone thinks so.”

“No one more than me,” Will said. “Can I go now? I've got things to do.”

“Wait- um, don't go, not yet. I've got something I want to ask you.”

“Fuck’s sake, what is it?” Will said. “I’m losing patience, and I swear you won't like it when I do.”

“I just- I think.” The guy drew himself up to his full height, like he was preparing to take a gut-punch. “I think you're kinda cute.”

For a moment, Will was stunned into silence. Then suspicion rushed in to fill the gap, until it was an angry buzz in his ears. “If this is something Chuck has put you up to, you'd better get out of here right now, or-”

The guy rushed forward to interrupt. “No, no, I promise! On my mother's grave.”

Will’s unspent words dissolved into empty useless breath. He sighed, and looked at the guy in front of him, really looked. He saw traces of a young teenager, one who’d grown too tall too quickly, and a silent stoic father. All he’d wanted to do was make her proud, so he’d done what his father had said. A football scholarship would lead to a bright future, a good job. Now he was struggling with the realisation that his father’s idea of a bright future didn’t match his own. And the knowledge that his mother’s opinions on the matter rotted away under the ground, along with everything else which had once been her.

“Okay,” Will said, feeling much more uncomfortable than when he thought he was going to end the night with split knuckles. “So… what, are you asking me out?”

“Yeah,” the guy said. “Not very well, sorry. Um, want to go grab a drink or something?” He gestured away from Will’s front door, in the direction of the cafes and bars which made up college nightlife.

Will shook his head and the guy's face fell, almost comically so.

“I mean, I've had a long day - lots of people,” Will explained. “Look, why don't you come in for a bit. We can talk.”

He found his keys in his bag and made for the door. Whatever this guy was, he was no threat.

The guy jogged the few steps over to Will, looking as eager and awkward as a puppy. “Uh, yeah, sure.” He nodded at his friend, who turned and disappeared into the night.

“Who was that?” Will asked, as the door clicked open.

“Not Chuck,” the guy said. “Just moral support. Don't worry.”

“I do worry.” Will dumped his bag and coat in the hall. “I have to.”

“Yeah, about that,” the guy said, his eyes trying to catch Will’s. “Sorry for freaking you out. I didn’t think.”

“No,” said Will, rather absently, looking round the room and wondering what he should do now. He hadn’t really thought much further than asking the guy inside. “I don't know your name. I guess you already know mine.”

“It’s Will, right? I'm Kyle.”

Will smiled. He couldn’t help it. Kyle with the square head and the football scholarship. “Take a seat, Kyle. I feel like I should offer you a beer but I haven’t got any. Hold on.”

He ducked into his bedroom and came back out with the battered tin bait box he kept his weed in. Kyle was on the couch, flicking not-very-casually through a magazine Bev had left behind. Will sat beside him, and found he rather enjoyed the way Kyle’s eyes jumped immediately to his bare knees and then a little higher.

“I’ve got this,” Will said. “Want to share? I think after tonight’s misunderstanding we could both do to unwind a little.”

Kyle grinned. “Much better than beer.”

“Well, I think so,” Will said, grinning back. It was surprisingly easy to do. Kyle was making no attempt at all to hide his attraction or his obvious hopes about the direction his evening had taken. His face was open, with clear brown eyes. His teeth were very white and he had a mole above one eyebrow. Maybe he wasn’t quite as square and bland as Will had first thought him, just extremely clean-cut and healthy-looking.

He rolled a joint while Kyle watched, unable to shake the impression that, at any moment, Kyle might sneak an arm round the back of the couch and across his shoulders. Riding in cars with boys, Will thought, a little hysterically. Suddenly, he could imagine an alternate reality, one based on dumb movie tropes, where he’d spent high school dating the star quarterback and wore his jacket to all the big games. Milkshakes and french fries and used condoms in the backseat.

“You live here on your own?” Kyle said, reminding Will not to get lost in his imagination, especially when he had company.

“Yeah, I’m a special case. They didn’t know what to do with me.” At Kyle’s blank look, Will continued. “I left high school a year early. I couldn’t go in dorm with everyone else and I didn’t want to share, so they put me up here on my own. I had student liaison come check on me every so often, to make sure I was settling in and not doing anything I could sue them for later.”

Kyle looked even blanker.

“It was a duty of care thing,” Will said. “Because I was a minor.”

There was an awkward pause, where Kyle’s brows drew alarmingly close together and his entire body tensed ready for flight.

“I’m eighteen now,” Will said, with a laugh. “It’s your turn to not worry.”

“Right,” Kyle said, looking relieved. “I gotcha.”

Will smiled and ducked his head to light the joint. When he blew out his first glorious lungful, Kyle stared at Will’s mouth and unconsciously wet his lips. Will blinked once, slowly, and after felt like an idiot for doing something dangerously close to batting his eyelashes. He handed the joint over, settled deeper into the couch, and tried not to think about it.

They passed it to and fro in silence for while until, apparently out of nowhere, Kyle asked, “Are you gay?”

Here it was; the place Kyle had been heading to, ever since he’d decided to wait for Will under the tree.

Will took a deep drag and wondered if he should bother trying to explain the intersectionality of gender identity and sexual orientation. “I like girls, boys, and everything in between,” was the answer he settled on.

Kyle took the joint back and watched it smoulder for a few moments. “Everything in between,” he said. “So, that’s you, right?”

“Right,” Will agreed. He was suddenly aware of how small the couch was. There was only a couple of inches of space between Kyle’s jeans and his own thigh.

“You know, you’re really pretty,” Kyle said. “Like really, really pretty.”

Will didn’t know what to say to that, so he said nothing at all. His fingers grazed Kyle’s when he took the joint again. Thankfully, there was a pleasant fuzziness creeping in around the edges of his mind, like a soft comfortable blanket. It made the situation a lot easier to deal with.

“I think I’m probably gay, but I’ve only been with girls before.” There was more than a hint of desperation in the way Kyle glanced at him, which spoke of a small town and its crushing, pigeonholing ways. “It’s not like I don’t want to - you know - with guys, it’s just, how do you even know when a guy is interested? How am I supposed to tell when it’s okay to ask one out?”

“You could go to a club,” Will said. “Or one of the LGBT events on campus.”

Kyle’s mouth dropped open, and he shook his head in a dazed kind of way. Obviously this would be a step too far.

“So you thought hanging around my door was less scary?” Will’s face darkened when a different idea occurred to him. “Or that I was an easier prospect?”

“No, no, that wasn’t it. I thought, you know, think-” He took a deep breath. “I told you - you’re really pretty. Gorgeous. I just wanted to-”

Will leaned in a little closer. His mind was stilling, finally. Thoughts hung like motes of dust suspended in syrupy summer air. Kyle’s warmth was seeping into the couch, palpable in the air around him. Will could almost feel it on his skin. And Kyle’s thighs were solid and muscular; Will wanted to straddle his lap and shut him up. He’d had enough talk for one day.

He was probably staring, Will realised, a bit too late. But Kyle was staring back at him. Good.

Kyle opened his mouth and hushed, halting words came out. “A couple of weeks ago, I saw you, at the library. You were wearing this short grey dress and you must’ve had on thigh highs or something, because when you picked your bag up there was little flash of skin and I swear it was the hottest thing I’ve ever seen.” His eyes found Will’s and slid down to fix on his mouth. “I got so hard, it was incredible. And later- god.”

Will gave him a slow smile and moved in close enough to kiss. But he held back, just out of reach. “What happened later? Tell me, go on.”

Kyle was transfixed, eyes wide. He was even blushing a little. But it seemed he couldn't stop talking now he’d started. “I couldn’t stop thinking about you, about what I’d find if I pushed your skirt up. Thinking that you might let me touch you, let me-”

The joint was practically finished, a stub of twisted paper. He plucked it from Kyle's fingers and sucked out the last pull. Then he brushed his lips over Kyle’s, letting curling tendrils of smoke escape between them. Kyle breathed it in deeply, and calmed himself a little.

“Let you what?” Will asked. “What is it you want to do?”

He was halfway across Kyle’s lap; one of Kyle’s hands had found their way to Will’s thigh, toying uncertainly with the hem of his dress.

“God, I want to suck you off,” Kyle said, in a breathless rush. “Make you come like that. I bet it’s as pretty as the rest of you.”

Will took a deep and careful breath in, trying to ignore the blood pounding in his veins, making his dick twitch. Fuck, did that sound good - usually, Will was the one expected to do all the cocksucking.

He put his hands firmly on Kyle’s shoulders and swung a leg over his lap. Instead of settling onto it, which seemed like a very good idea indeed, Will knelt so his hips were level with Kyle’s shoulders.

“So, what you're saying is, you wanna lift up my skirt and suck my dick?”

Kyle nodded, mouth open and eyes glazed, fingers digging into the backs of Will’s thighs.

Will smiled, and stroked Kyle's cheek with his thumb. “Okay then, go ahead.”

Kyle’s hands crept nervously upward, a little way under Will’s skirt. All at once, he pushed it up, out of the way.

“Oh god,” he said, faintly. “Shit.”

Will would have described the underwear he had on as unremarkable - plain pale-blue cotton, with a tiny frill of lace edging. But apparently Kyle didn't agree. His fingers slid slowly up to rest over Will's hips, framing the fat rigid bulge of Will's cock underneath with his thumbs, and then stopped.

“It’s okay,” Will said. “Touch, whatever you want.”

Kyle looked nervously up at him for a moment, before brushing his thumb along the length of the distended fabric. A soft whimper escaped him, as if he was the one being felt up. Will covered the back of Kyle's hand with his own, in what he hoped was encouragement. The tension was getting to him, too - excitement banded his chest, making his breath come short.

Squaring his shoulders, Kyle hooked his fingertips into the band of Will's panties and peeled them down. He let out an audible exhalation when Will’s dick sprang free. It was almost kind of cute, Will decided. He smiled down at Kyle, who was blushing and bright-eyed and elated at his own bravery.

“I knew it,” he said, tugging Will's panties further down, to sit below his balls. “So pretty, god. Like that, is that okay?” He encircled the shaft with his fingers, and gave a couple of tentative strokes.

“Yeah,” Will said. “That's good, just- you don't have to be gentle with me.”

Kyle made a choked, slightly desperate noise, grabbed the base of Will's cock and pressed his lips to the tip. Will gasped and clutched for the back of the couch. He felt hot warmth sweep across his slit - simply Kyle getting used to the taste, presumably, because he then slipped the round O of his mouth over the head and sucked.

With a harsh grunt of surprise, Will tried to stop his hips jerking forward. Kyle pulled free, then dragged the broad flat of his tongue down Will’s length and back up again. He was a quick learner and enthusiastic to boot; sucking Will’s cock deeper into his mouth, hands settling on the globes of Will’s ass. Will groaned, reeling with pleasure already, and a little taken aback at the sight of Kyle below him.

Kyle let Will slip free and gasped, “God, you’re so hot.” He unbuckled his jeans hurriedly and took his own dick in hand. “Just, fuck, just use my mouth, okay? I can take it, I want you to.”

A shiver of need raced up Will’s spine. Maybe those backseat fantasies his mind earlier supplied him with were even more interesting than they had first appeared. He pictured Kyle, on his knees, head bobbing in Will’s lap. The star quarterback who was also a star cocksucker.

Will held his jaw and pushed the head of his cock across Kyle’s lips, smearing them with pre-come. He smiled. “Yeah? Want me to come in your mouth too?”

Kyle moaned, nodded, and put his tongue out in blatant invitation. Silently, Will congratulated himself for not coming on the spot, and slid smoothly over Kyle’s tongue and into his mouth. He pressed as deep as he thought Kyle could take, watching Kyle’s cheeks hollow, his eyes close in bliss. His hand worked briskly between his own legs and Will took up the same rhythm, fucking his mouth in short rapid strokes.

Will knew there was no way he was going to last - not with the needy sounds Kyle was making deep in his throat, or with how he seemed to like Will’s hands on his jaw and the back of his head. His mouth was perfect, spit-slick tongue and lips, tight sucking heat, vibrating with his groans. And the thought of coming in his mouth, of watching him swallow around his cock- it was all too much.

Gathering his self-control, Will pulled slowly back, greedily watching the drag of Kyle’s lips over his shaft. When he realised what was happening, Kyle tried to hold him in place, the fingers of his free hand dimpling the flesh of Will’s ass.

Will shook his head. “I’m close, you’d better do the work. It’ll be easier for you that way.”

Kyle surged blindly forward, sought the head with his tongue, and engulfed it in his mouth again. He worked it desperately, sucking and lapping, probing gently at the very tip, until Will gripped his head and held him still. His cock pulsed thickly, and Kyle’s eyes flew open as he swallowed what he could. Will's gaze was locked to his while Kyle struggled and lost the battle, a slippery mess of saliva and come spilling from his lips and down his chin. Both of them groaned; Kyle chased it with his tongue, still pumping his dick, while Will shook and trembled over him. Only a few seconds later, he came over his fist, splashing hot and wet against Will’s thigh.

Will's heart hammered, his chest heaved. A laugh burst from him - the final release of adrenaline and joy and relief. Kyle wiped at his sticky mouth and joined in, a warm genuine sound. Will sank into his lap and kissed him properly for the first time. They felt easy and right together, soft lips and slow hot licks into each others’ mouths. Both of them smiled all the way through. Will chased the taste of himself on Kyle's tongue, and wondered how long it would be before they could do that again.

“So,” Kyle said, in between kisses. “Can I take you for that drink another night?”

btw after this Will got several weeks’ worth of excellent head and never had any trouble with Chuck ever again :)

Quicksilver au

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originaldetectivesheep · 7 years ago

Text

A Life of Riley Part 2: The Building That Had A Grudge Against Furniture Or Something ch 1

may want to go read part 1 first

"I'm sorry, miss," one of the overgrown Cub Scouts said to me as I tried to walk past him, away from the shelter at the bus stop towards the quad, "but we're going to need to check your bag."

I stopped and squinted at him, him and his equally corn-fed buddy in blue military shirts that had probably been bought in bulk and passed out at random to whoever fit them the closest, stupid red braid wound around their armpits like half-assed Japanese rope bondage. "Excuse you?" I said. "Check my bag? For what? Why? Who died and made you the TSA?"

The kid took a half step back, eyes open in shock like he wasn't used to being challenged. "I – I'm sorry, miss, but it's the rules." He pointed to a giant red poster on the side of the bus shelter: Grinckle Elimination Front Certified Grinckle-Free Area – Mandatory Checkpoint. "They certified Engineering Campus grinckle-free last night, so we need to check everyone who comes in. To make sure people aren't bringing fish across the perimeter." I looked over the poster, looked over the frosh Chuckle Brothers playing cop; they were being serious. For real, they were taking this seriously. Screw it.

"I tell you what," I said, undoing the clasp on my handbag, juggling it a little to make sure that the brass knuckles in it ended up underneath my pocketbook or spare sanitary supplies that these babies would be too scared of cooties to touch, "I'll come back tomorrow, and if you find even one fish in someone's backpack getting smuggled in here, I will eat it in front of you raw. This is the stupidest thing ever, or at least since this whole stupid friggin grinckle invasion started in the first place. God. Look, there it is; look, no fish. Can I go now?"

"Just – just one second," the other one said, bumping at the bottom of my bag with the back of his hand. "We have to check and make sure there isn't any fish in a false bottom. That's clear – but – Sid, we also got to check –" He cupped his hands in front of his own overfilled chest.

"Yeah," the first one said, trying not to snort. "It's possible; we got to be sure. That you aren't – you aren't carrying any fish under your shirt."

I saw red, and gritted my teeth. "The shit you hurfdurfs are going to feel me up looking for your imaginary fish. This, do you know what this is?" I hauled my lab pass out of the side pocket on my bag, brandishing it in their faces. "Read it, turdball: this is an Applied Physics lab door card. You know what the AP lab is, right? You know what this means, right? This means that I can go in that lab, even when Riley isn't there, and use the lab materials however the hell I want. Let that sink in a little. And when you're done thinking about that, think a little bit about Riley, about how Riley would react if it got around that some jumped-up crossing guards thought it was okay to grope lab members – think a little bit about what I could do to you with the AP lab materials, and how likely it would be that anyone would ever find your bodies." The wannabe fish gestapo had backed up away from my door card, nearly all the way to the hedge at the side of the path, and they were sweating like they were about to piss themselves in another second or two. "Are we clear? Are we good? Am I good to go?" The one who'd first suggested molesting me grabbed the other dude in a panicked bearhug, whimpering, and I figured that as as intelligible a reply as I was going to get from these idiots.

"All right," I said, stowing my card again. "I'll take that as a yes, and as long as you're actually getting rid of those fish you can do whatever. But if I hear one thing, if I get one DM about you jerkoffs or any other shitass pretend grinckle cops harassing people like this, I'm gonna come back down here, and there's not going to be enough of you left to bait a hook with. Do you get me, assholes?" The assholes got me, nodding frantically, wide-eyed, as I walked away, completely ignoring the other students and their backpacks getting off the bus and walking the other way around them towards Dittmarsch Hall. Some security checkpoint. Great job there by the pervert brigade.

As a way to ruin your entire morning, an attempted sexual assault by the shitbird wannabe fish police is just A-1 fantastic, and I stayed in a bad mood all the way over to the physics building, and then all the way up the stairs to the lab. I clicked my badge to the sensor by the door, and the EMO drop bars fell with a clunk, without even asking if someone was working on high-voltage stuff inside; I just wanted to get in, get in to my workspace, and get back to myself before this day got any worse. Nobody yelled or cussed like they'd gotten hit with a power cut, so that was good, and as soon as I came through the door, Carolína was standing up, leaning around a bookshelf full of greasy cylinders looking for me. "Sajitha!" she said, "are you okay? Are you all right?"

I picked my way past the wet-vac that someone had left in the middle of the floor and sat down at my workspace, stacking the sample parts on the tabletop out of the way and pulling the keyboard down from the hooks glued to the top of the monitor, switching the screen on. "Barely. I didn't get molested by the grinckle police, and I didn't have to punch either of them into the hospital either. Things could be worse. Did they go after you too? Check your bag, offer to squeeze and make sure you didn't have any fish strapped to your tits?"

Carolína shook her head, ducking to and fro as she tried to work around to my side of the work table to offer moral support. "No – no, they didn't; that's awful – I feel so bad for you – did you call security?"

"If I called security, they'd squeal about how I threatened to murder them if I found out they were harassing anyone else; lumpy freshmen threatening sexual assault gets laughed off as boys being boys, AP lab member telling someone they'll be ground up for fish food if they don't cut their shit turns into handcuffs and a terroristic-threats or conspiracy-to-commit-murder charge. They take us seriously. And you can't call the cops on the cops, even junior dress-up cops like this. How'd you dodge them? Do you have a secret way up here? I just came up on the bus like normal." Carolína had wrapped herself all around my back, chin resting on my shoulder. It wasn't helping me a whole ton, but if it helped her feel better, it was okay.

"No," she said, "no, I just came up that way too. I had my backpack, but they didn't stop me. I barely noticed them – I'm pretty sure they were there, but I was on the phone with my mom and I wasn't paying attention. Maybe that's it, like they don' pay attention to people who go by speaking Spanish."

"Either that, or it was just a clipping plane thing and they didn't see you down there," Leo said from somewhere up near the ceiling. I turned around, following Carolína's arm as she gave him the finger, and saw Leo hanging off a rickety shelf by one hand, knee braced on some kind of superstructure that he was nudging a heavy-looking bushing into.

"Leo!" I said, surprised, "what the heck? How are you up here already? And what are you doing? Do you really want to be jacking bushings around that high up without a harness?"

"If he wants to keep having a place to lay his head when he can't find some thirst monster to hook up with, he'll get that upper blister assembly fixed up by tonight, harness or no harness," Riley said, invisible behind a towering stack of binder specs at the back of the room. "This is a physics lab, not a Salvation Army hostel; you want to stay here, you have to work here."

"Wait," I said. "Leo, you still haven't found a new place to live? You're still sleeping on the floor in here? How do you even live? And isn't it crowded with you and Yuping?"

"Hey, don't put Yuping in the same boat with me," Leo said, reaching back over onto the shelf for a wrench. "He doesn't live here – he just gets stuck sleeping on the floor sometimes when he's on deadline. On days when he doesn't, like today, he's back with Simon in, no lie, the perfectest twee-est one-bedroom bungalow apartment you could possibly think of. The place looks like a staged fake off some interior design magazine's Instagram. Ex this lab, Yuping's life is a goddamn model of domestic bliss, and we ought to respect that more."

"Oh-kay," I said, accepting Leo's domesticity thirst if he was still sleeping on cardboard, "that's fine, I'll send him and Simon a nice fruit basket on their anniversary or their move-in anniversary or whatever. But jeez, Leo, how the hell do you not have a new apartment yet?"

"I can't afford a new apartment," Leo answered, wrench gritted in his teeth as he worked on something with a pair of pliers. "It's kind of the middle of the semester and nobody's failed out yet or quit, so everywhere that's remotely affordable is locked down solid until next summer. There's a handful of places that aren't like student apartments specifically that have some vacancies, but the rent on all of them is so high it makes blood shoot out my eye sockets even thinking about it. I've been on Craigslist looking at roommate-wanted posts, but anyone who'd be accepting a single white dude, I'm following up with them and all of them are like in horrible trouble where they have like drug dudes leaning over their shoulder, or the house is full of mold – and there's not one of them that I'd trust to be out about being in with the AP lab with. If it wasn't just me, I'd look a lot less like a sketchy rando, and then maybe some of the other places might be more affordable, but it is just me, and it is what it is." He laid the pliers down and went back to the wrench.

Next to me, Carolína nodded hard, understanding. "Yeah – I get it. I want a little bit to move out, too: after Melanie, you remember, Remy's ex, moved out, it's just me and Kenji at the house and the rent is a little too much with just two of us – but you don' wanna move out on your own, because you don' know who these people who put up the roommate ads really are. It'd be different if I knew them, if it wasn't just me looking, but everyone I know, they're all settled, so…" She shrugged, leaning back against my workbench.

"You hear that?" I asked up at Leo. "Why don't you move in with Carolína? She's looking for someone else to split the rent, and you've got to be able to afford what she's paying, and you know she's a normal person."

"At Ham House?" Leo asked, like I was putting him on, and Carolína made a face. "No thanks; Carolína is chill and I could afford it, but I think Kenji has beef with me, and then there's that smell that hasn't completely gotten out of that place yet. Thanks, but no thanks; if that's option B, I'mma stick sleeping under the drill press."

"Hey, screw you!" Carolína yelled, giving him the finger again. "I don' like the smell neither, but it's not so bad, and I got my name on the lease – I don' got to hear a homeless guy tell me my apartment's not fit to live in!" Leo shot her a double-bird back, and wobbled like he was going to fall off the shelf, or have it completely collapse under him.

"Guys – guys –" I said, trying to calm things down before people started throwing wrenches at each other and someone got really hurt, "cool it – cool it. You're both in tough spots – it's not worth fighting about this crap for no reason." I was thinking – thinking about my nice one-room single in a shared condo that meant I never had to have any of these problems. It was nice and all, but it didn't feel like college – nothing felt like that so much as long nights in here, working with friends, arguing with friends, eating takeout with friends and fighting about who was holding out on the tip with friends. If I got a little out of my shell, and the three of us found a place together, we could have something like that more of the time (and maybe with less chance of Riley dragging us into other people's weird problems), and I could use my own privilege to help out friends who didn't have it, whether it was Leo who was actually homeless or Carolína who was just going broke living in a house that still smelled like the glop at the bottom of a pack of raw bacon. And I could sublet or Airbnb my single and keep it as a fallback – and if I did that, maybe we could afford to do our college communal living somewhere that wasn't a grubby college communal apartment.

"Hear me out – just hear me out a second," I said, still not quite sure of how to set this up so it wouldn't sound like I was patronizing Leo and Carolína, doing them a favor by going in with them. "What if we all make some time this weekend, all go out apartment hunting together? We don't have to all go in together, don't have to all get on the same lease, but maybe there's places that we could get into together that you guys couldn't get into separately – maybe we won't find anything and you'll be stuck the same way you are now, but maybe we will find something and it'll work out. How about it? It'll make a good break from school and work, and it'll be something to do that doesn't have anything to do with those stupid grinckles." I looked around, Carolína to Leo and back and forth again, looking for approval; maybe not yet, but at least they weren't jumping down my throat about it.

"This weekend? Apartment hunting together? Word, count me in – and if there's four of us, two chicks and two dudes, that's perfect for a good quad, right? I'll start up a group chat – Leo, send me over those listings you thought you didn't have a chance at, I'll send them around." I looked down at my feet, where Remy had suddenly rolled out from under something, like a landing gear assembly or something else that made all the sense in the world, and my heart fell right down into my shoes. I should have checked; this was the AP lab, and you never knew who was hiding under a pile of machine parts waiting for an invitation that shouldn't have been extended. No way I was going to move in with Remy – not and end up Netflixing every night on the same couch with him because he thought if he did that, the 'chill' part would go and happen by itself.

"Yeah, that'd be good," Leo said, tossing his tools over towards a bucket on the top shelf. "I'll be down for that; I'm free all day Saturday and most of Sunday as long as I can get the spare microwave emitter in here working in the next couple days. Loop me in on the chat, I'll send those listings over as soon as I get down from here."

"Yes, agreed," Carolína said. "It'll be better with more people, the four of us coming as a unit – people won't worry about a new roommate up in their room if we go as a quad, where we'll have all our own relationships just with us." She looked at me with a total poker face – they were doing this on purpose, they were absolutely doing this on purpose.

I took a deep breath. "Okay. Okay, fine. But Remy, why are you in this boat? Don't you have a dorm room or something, or a room in someone's house? I was pretty sure that I thought you were rooming with Derek and Howie from your team, weren't you?"

Remy smiled a goofy grin and put a hand to his forehead, rolling a little back and forth on the mechanic's tray. "I – uh – there's kind of a thing with that. I was real busy at the end of last semester, finishing up my big project for orgo, and I thought that I'd gotten in, but I guess it slipped my mind. I was supposed to be in a dorm this year, but I forgot to enter the housing lottery so yeah, while I've been kinda living with Howie and Derek, I've kinda just been sleeping on their couch and keeping my laptop and my spare clothes in this box in their TV room."

"Forgot. You forgot to have someplace to live this year." I facepalmed like I was going to tear my brain out with my fingers, and he waved his hands, starting up again to try and look a little less stupid.

"But it's gonna work out! It's gonna work out, I promise – I been saving up because they haven't been looking for more than like beer money to use their couch, and a couple bucks for the washing machine, so I'm flush now, yo! I'll take care of the security deposit on any place we want to go in on – I can handle it, trust me."

"Fine," I said, through the heel of my hand. "Fine. Whatever. It's okay. Everything's cool. No problems. Saturday then, right? Cool, whatever; just give me some space now so I can get ahead on my work and make sure we're ready to go out." I rolled my eyes and slumped back down for my chair and my workstation; out the corner of my eye, I was pretty sure that I saw Leo and Carolína giving each other a thumbs-up. This was going to turn out great, just great – but at least it couldn't be any weirder and dumber than that thing with the fish.

Chapter 2

#nanowrimo #alifeofriley #fiction #moar callbacks

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