#spent my entire two days off either doing storm prep

[thevioletcaptain]

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[fe-semi-decent-scenarios]

What if s/o ended up rejecting their marriage proposal? Not because there was someone else but instead from not being ready to commit. Maybe since they're still young and s/o doesn't want to hold them back from other opportunities now that the war is over? (whatever house or characters are fine! Thank you~)

[As someone with their own skepticism towards marriage, I can totally see this happening tbh. Those precious babies have basically spent their entire lives up until that point either battling in school or fighting a war, so a few years of me-time are definitely owed to them]- I’ll do BL for this since they were my first run. Hope you like it! 

Dimitri:

Let’s get one thing straight. Dimitri is ready to marry you and become your partner for life. The moment he popped out that ring he laid himself bare to you. He’s yours, and wants you to be his. 

Upon rejection he’ll be hurt, but he also won’t fight you. It is your decision how to spend the rest of your days after the war. By Sothis you’ve earned that right at least after everything that’s happened. 

It’s when you bring up the “holding him back,” issue where he’ll rebuttal. That familiar glint of distress will bypass him at the words. You could never. Hell, your presence alone shrouds his world in light and he makes sure that you know it before going your separate ways. Be it through a sweet kiss, or words of affirmation; he’ll do it all.

“My beloved...I will wait for you. I will always be waiting for you” 

He’s already lost so much, but he won’t lose you. He’ll wait as long as you need to feel comfortable.

He keeps the ring safe at all times in a pocket sewn into his cloak

From then on he won’t bring up marriage again until you do first. And when is happens? Get ready for him to whip out that bad boi all over again

 Ashe: 

For once he isn’t a stuttering mess. This is supposed to be a happy moment...so why aren’t you smiling? 

He came into the goddess tower entirely prepared for rejection, but that didn’t make it hurt any less 

Well, until you elaborated further. Ashe may be awkward but he is no fool. He knows where you’re coming from, and is happy you’re sharing how you feel. 

“If you want to wait, then we can wait,” would be his immediate response. He’d extend his arms out for a hug and wait for your initiative to respect your boundaries. If you accept he’s over the moon

Going slow doesn’t mean it won’t ever happen. This is a chance to treat you like the goddess you are in his eyes. From then on he’s sure to properly court you like he would have done if the war never happened

Dates, flowers, strolls in the woods, etc. He puts his knowledge of romance novels to use

One day you both will be wed, but for now he’ll appreciate the little things you do together. As long as you love each other then that’s what counts

Felix: 

The main reason he popped the question is because a life without you is one that he doesn’t want to live

I won’t sugarcoat this. When you reject him he gets upset. The goal of this was to ensure you’ll be in each others lives...but now what? Are you saying that he’s not good enough to share your life with?

He doesn’t say anything when you reject him(which is what scares you the most)

All you can glimpse is how his eyes glaze over, and that familiar scowl paint his lips

Felix storms off immediately to go let off steam before he says something he’ll regret

Leaves so fast that he drops the ring. 

Panics later when he can’t find it, searches for two days, and naturally concludes that you were the one to pick it up after asking around

You’re the one to approach him to return it. Naturally, as Felix does, he gets snappy 

“I don’t need your pity,” he says. It takes everything out of you to get him to listen beyond the rejection. Upon hearing that you just want to wait he calms down. 

He tries to play off his stubborn behavior but you see through it, just like you always have. You’ll still take him after that childish display, right?...right?

Dedue: 

Dedue is...discouraged. Who wouldn’t be after being rejected? 

It doesn’t show much though. He’s the type to kind of nestle those personal feelings down until no one is around 

Hope still remains though. Just as with the others, he knows that waiting does not mean forever. For now he will stay by his highness’ side while you take the time to find your place in the world

Dimitri actually takes the news harder than Dedue. He was certain that you to were going to be wed, and that Dedue would finally have the peaceful life he deserved 

After explaining the situation thoroughly he is happy for you both, and even offers to give Dedue as much time as he wants off to spend with you 

You both still go see the flowers of Duscur together, just as planned. That time is a memory he holds precious to his heart, and it made him come to realize how nice slowly learning about each other can be 

While not often, when you both take excursions together your bonds do grow. He loves when you share stories of the places you visit, and in turn learning more about you as a person. 

Sylvain: 

He’s been there and done that with commitment insecurities 

By far the most understanding of your situation out of all the lions. He’s lived with the fear that people would want him only for his crest his whole life. In all honestly, he’s relieved that you’re one to take things slow

There isn’t even a misunderstanding between you two. He waits till you’re entirely done talking to digest your answer. 

Hey, it’s better than flat rejection <~{Sylvain’s thought process}

“So...this means there’s still a chance?Yes!” his enthusiasm after being told no shocks you to the core

He’ll respect your wishes always. If you feel that you need time to find yourself before committing to him then he wouldn’t dream of stopping you

When you are ready to spend your lives together he will happily go flaunt to all his friends that he’s a taken man. That’s just his style.

Each and every day you spend together only makes him want to marry you more. When the time is right he will do everything in his power to ensure that you don’t regret having him at your side. 

 Ingrid: 

After the loss of Glenn her heart is fragile, but not glass 

She will be happy in all honesty. As long as you both care about each other then she could care less about putting a label on it 

It’s just that her family says otherwise, you know? She’s going to have to produce an heir at some point

But hey...some point doesn’t have to be now. She may be a knight by title but that doesn’t mean her dream ends here

While you’re off exploring the vast horizons of the world she’ll be off doing what she believes is right. From stabilizing the Galetea household, to aiding in the renovation for Faerghus. Just because the war is over doesn’t mean her job is

When you both do decide to settle down she’ll be genuinely happy. It will be when you both take time for yourselves, and can maybe not almost get killed every day 

Annette:

 Annette will probably shed a few tears post-confession, so be prepared. These are tears of happiness though. You do care about her, and you do want to stay with her even if it is not how she pictured it 

It may not be a proposal, but maybe one day???

“R-really? You mean it?” She’d say when you assure her that you share her feelings, but want to take things slow

She might playfully slap you when you express your views of holding her back

Yes she has potential but so do you. Never EVER think that she wants anyone else, or that she views you as baggage 

No matter where you go, what you do, or whatever happens in the world: Annette will always be in contact. She’ll send letters if you’re far, visit if you’re near, and don’t you ever forget it.

“Hello! I hope that you’re safe and eating well! I miss you so much-” Most letters start like this. She’s a worry-wart. 

Mercedes: 

Mercedes is a well-rounded person. Due to this she’ll most likely know how you feel before you even say anything. It’s a gift I tell you

Out of all the Lion’s she’ll be the one to suggest a courtship and time apart instead of you. She doesn’t expect a proposal, but will still express her feelings 

She has her own goals to fulfill now that the main fighting is over. While she’s in good health she wants to help people, so it doesn’t rub her wrong if you want to leave 

“Promise me to take care of yourself, okay” despite this she will always worry 

A proper courtship is in order for you two. She’ll bake you sweets, and you’ll prep the tea. When you both have downtime it’s like magic. Nothing beats getting to know each other without tomorrow’s battle hanging over your heads 

Just...don’t entirely leave. Even if you both are waiting it’s important to ensure each other feels validated. That goes for all relationships, not just yours with Mercedes 

[ollieofthebeholder]

leaves too high to touch (roots too strong to fall): a TMA fanfic

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Chapter 20: Jon Prime

Jon had been worried, before they had come back in time, about how well he would adjust to being in the past, pre-Apocalypse. He wasn’t sure if he’d be able to handle the lessened level of terror, or the need to eat and sleep completely again, or being, essentially, less than he’d been, or for that matter the urge to storm the Institute and throttle Jonah Magnus in his office. He’d fretted about a lot of things.

As it turned out, none of them were things he needed to fret about.

His body reacclimated to human needs quickly enough, and it actually felt kind of good to feel the rumble of hunger or the drag of exhaustion again. It was definitely good to get back to cooking, which he’d sorely missed doing even if it felt odd to be cooking for more than himself and Martin. Martin had been right about his statement fueling Jon for a while, and his younger counterpart had taken to bringing home any real statements he came across; it was enough. And with Martin there, he didn’t feel less.

As for storming the Institute, that urge had been surprisingly easy to resist. Tim had managed to convince them to stay at his house longer by asking them to keep an eye on Past Martin while he healed. His excuse had been that Jon knew what Past Martin was going through and Martin knew what his past self was like, so they could keep him from doing anything stupid. Jon guessed there was more to it than that, but he didn’t want to pry into anyone’s minds, so he just let it go and agreed. It seemed simpler.

Martin had adapted well, too. Granted, he’d still been human—as far as Jon knew—before they came back, and he’d had two weeks to adjust to being blind before they were reunited, but he’d picked up on the cane Tim bought him fairly quickly. He didn’t seem to need it around the house, though, and when Jon questioned him about that, Martin said that he had a pretty good sense of direction when the world makes sense, Jon. And, honestly, Jon couldn’t argue with that. Tim spent a Sunday afternoon reorganizing his cupboards, then showed Martin where everything was so he could feel more independent in the kitchen while Jon watched from the doorway with a grin.

Past Martin got stronger by the day. At first, he mostly slept, which was fine with Jon, since it meant he could spend time with Martin and not feel guilty. He’d accidentally fallen asleep with his head on Martin’s lap one afternoon and woken to soft laughter, which is how he found out that Past Martin and Past Jon had apparently discussed things and Sasha was the only member of what Tim insisted on referring to as Team Archives who didn’t know they were together. After that, they’d dropped the pretense and just been themselves. It had been a huge relief to Jon. It had also been a relief—and a surprise—that Tim didn’t tease them mercilessly, but when he mentioned that to Martin, Martin just laughed and shook his head.

They’d all fallen into an easy domesticity. It was honestly the most surreal thing Jon had experienced in probably his entire life. Sasha and Past Jon were still staying with Tim—Jon had no idea what argument Tim had used on them, but it seemed to be working—and Jon delighted in watching the three of them, together with Past Martin, draw closer together into a cohesive unit that would be harder for Jonah to manipulate. Often, he would come out of the spare room from recording a statement, tape recorder in hand, to find them sharing stories or playing games and laughing. Some nights he joined in on the games, too, but mostly he just sat back with Martin and watched, grinning.

There were arguments. Of course there were arguments. They were all human beings with their own personalities and quirks. Nothing was going to be perfect harmony. Thankfully, they were usually made up fairly quickly. It felt like home, in a way, something Jon hadn’t experienced in he didn’t know how long. He knew it couldn’t last, but he was determined to enjoy it while he could.

Several weeks passed like that. Jon could see the signs that Past Martin was getting restless and impatient to be back at work—he listened hungrily to the team’s tales of what they’d been up to, ventured tentative suggestions on avenues of research or possible connections they might have missed—but he was, ultimately, a far better patient than Jon had been. Not that that was difficult.

As Past Martin’s recovery progressed, the three of them began taking walks in the afternoon, Jon letting the two Martins go ahead of him and following just behind. Partly it was that there really wasn’t room for them to walk three abreast, but mostly it was him giving them the opportunity to see what they were capable of on their own while he watched their backs, literally. At first they were slow circuits of a single block, and then Past Martin needed to sit down for quite a while, but within a couple of weeks he was walking easily and seemed almost back to normal. The scars healed better than they had for Jon, partly because Martin’s skin was fairer than Jon’s but mostly because Past Martin was better about both following doctor’s orders and not picking at the healing wounds. Tim’s had healed about the same, Jon remembered, a thought which still sent a lance of melancholy through him. And finally, the day came when he returned triumphantly from a check-up with the news that he’d been cleared to return to work that Monday.

“We’ll be glad to have you back,” Past Jon said sincerely, actually smiling in a way Jon couldn’t remember smiling until the too-brief time he and Martin had had in Scotland. “It’s all kind of…I won’t lie, it’s odd to sit around and keep working like nothing has changed. Like we don’t know what’s going on. But we’ve managed. There’s a lot more than can be easily done with three, though.”

“I’ll do whatever you need,” Past Martin promised. “God, it’ll feel good to get back into things.”

“Kind of surprised you didn’t try to get us to let you come back earlier, actually,” Tim teased him. “Don’t think none of us saw you chomping at the bit.”

Past Martin gestured to Jon and Martin. “They wouldn’t let me bring it up.”

“How long did you wait before going back?” Past Jon asked.

Jon grimaced. “A month. I should have stayed out longer, to be honest, and I ended up needing substantial physical therapy. But I was already obsessing over who killed Gertrude Robinson, and I didn’t handle being alone with my thoughts very well. Tim was out longer.”

“How long?” Tim asked curiously.

“Eight weeks, give or take.”

“So we can be away from the Institute? I thought you said…” Tim trailed off.

Jon paused, knife suspended over the cutting board. “I—I never thought of that. God, how did I not think of that? Our Tim seemed fine when he first came back, and he never said anything, but…”

“You can be away from the Institute, just not for good,” Martin said. “When you’re out…convalescing, that’s one thing. Even if you’re on an extended vacation, that should be okay. It’s if you try to leave, if you just up and walk away with the idea that you won’t be back, that you’ll have problems. As long as you really intend to come back at some point, it’s fine.”

Jon turned around and stared at Martin. “How long have you known that?”

“Since Elias told us we were trapped there?”

“My God, that was…” Jon rubbed his temple with his free hand. “Why didn’t you say anything? And please don’t say ‘it never really came up.’”

Martin actually smiled at that. “Honestly, Jon, I assumed you knew. I mean, you were away for ages, and I know Basira kept going off on…excursions. She might not have been gone long, but I just…I thought you’d figured it out. Especially when nothing really happened to us in Scotland.”

Jon hadn’t thought about that, either. But yes, at the time they had meant to go back to the Institute eventually, hadn’t they? Or maybe the Eye had let them go because it knew what Jonah was plotting. Either way, Martin was right, he really ought to have figured that out sooner.

He sighed, turning back to his meal prep. “I can, as we have established, be a bit oblivious at times.”

Sasha gave an overly-dramatic gasp. “You? Never.”

“Oh, shut up,” Past Jon grumbled.

Tim snickered. “Hey, does that mean you two have to come back to the Institute, too?”

“That’s…more complicated.” Jon scraped the contents of the cutting board into the pot. “I’m bound closely enough to the Eye that I’m not…dependent on the Institute, I don’t think? As long as I’m taking statements, feeding the Eye, I’m fine. I believe. And Martin is cut off from the Eye entirely. But it’s a rather moot point, as we intend to move into the tunnels beneath the Institute anyway.”

“You can’t seriously be planning to do that,” Tim protested. “Come on, they can’t be comfortable—”

“They aren’t. But that’s not the point, Tim.” Jon sighed and reached for the spices he’d selected. “We are putting you in very real danger by being here. Besides, we’re not in a position to assist like we would be if we were closer to the Institute. I don’t particularly like them, but it’s the best option for everyone.”

Tim reached past Jon to get plates out of the cupboard, his expression mulish. Jon braced himself for whatever arguments Tim might throw his way and resolutely shut his mind against prying for it, but before he could say anything, Past Martin came up and put a hand on Tim’s shoulder.

“You can’t fix everything, Tim,” he said quietly. “And I know that’s rich, coming from me, but…we have to trust them. It’s not like we won’t ever see them again if they’re not living under your roof.”

Tim’s shoulders slumped. Jon caught his eye and offered him a smile. “It’s certainly no reflection on you, Tim. It’s just…we need to do this. I desperately need you to trust us.”

“I can give you that.” Tim managed a smile in reply, then turned to set the table. “You’re not planning to move in tonight, though, right?”

Jon was about to answer, then froze as a rumble of thunder sounded from outside. It was low and gentle, but the sound sent a shudder of horror running down his spine that he couldn’t explain. He had to stand, perfectly still, until the sound stopped.

“No,” he said as soon as he felt able. “Not tonight.”

He went back to what he was doing, or tried to, but there was obviously a storm building, and the next peal of thunder brought his breath up short. The spoon slipped out of his hand and into the pot.

“Are you okay?” Sasha’s voice seemed to be coming from a long way away.

“Fine,” Jon lied automatically. Really, this was ridiculous. There was no reason for this. Thunderstorms had never bothered him before; why were they suddenly an issue now? He retrieved the spoon and returned to cooking.

The others shifted the discussion to the logistics of smuggling Jon and Martin into the Institute and the tunnels beneath them without being spotted. Since Martin was already explaining about the other entrances, Jon didn’t feel the need to jump in. They would still need to figure out which entrance to use, or find one in the first place, and how to get there surreptitiously, but at least there were options beyond “hope to avoid the cameras mounted around the Institute when sneaking into the Archives and subsequently into the tunnels”. That would be the fastest way to tip Jonah off that something was going on.

Another roll of thunder sounded from almost directly overhead—not a sharp crack, but a long, rumbling bass growl. Jon felt it to his core, and he gasped, leaning over to catch himself against the counter. Suddenly he was in the spare room in the cabin in Scotland, the words being torn from his throat against his will: I…OPEN…THE DOOR!

“Whoa!” someone shouted.

“Shit, that’s—how is he—” someone else stammered.

“Get his hand off the burner!”

“Jon! Jon, it’s okay, I’m here, I’m here.”

Something brushed against him, and he jerked away, but then a hand wrapped around his arm and tugged him away from the counter, and then someone was wrapping an arm around his shoulders and pulling him close. There was a confused babble of voices around him, but Jon couldn’t focus on it, couldn’t focus on anything but the thunder and the static filling his mind and the fact that for some reason his hand hurt, why did his hand hurt…

“Jon,” the voice said again in his ear, and it was Martin’s voice, he sounded upset, he sounded scared, and Jon couldn’t let him be scared but didn’t know how to fix it, so he looked up desperately and saw Martin’s face close to his. “Come on, let’s go in the other room, it’s okay. Come on, I’ve got you. It’s okay. It’s okay.”

Jon couldn’t speak, could barely breathe. He just let Martin lead him out of the room they were in and into another, keeping his eyes fixed on Martin the whole time, and then they were sitting on something and Martin pulled Jon into his arms, onto his lap, and wrapped him up securely. One hand came up to cup the back of his head, the other rubbed his back in slow, soothing circles.

“I’m here, Jon,” Martin murmured, his voice low and gentle despite crackling with emotion. “You’re here. We’re both here and we’re safe. We’re in London. The world isn’t ending, Jon. You didn’t end the world. It’s okay. It’s okay.”

How, the small part of Jon that wasn’t numb with terror thought, did Martin always seem to know the right thing to say? It was a ridiculous thought, of course; Martin didn’t always know the right thing to say, any more than Jon did, and they’d had more than a few arguments over one of them saying the wrong thing at the wrong time. But when it was a situation like this, when Jon panicked or got lost in his own head or was hurting, Martin always seemed to come up with the right words. Jon fisted his hands into Martin’s shirt and buried his face in his chest, focusing on the heartbeat that always soothed him when things got too bad. One of his hands, in a distant way, hurt, but he didn’t let go. He couldn’t.

Of course the world wasn’t ending. It couldn’t be. How could the world end with Martin there? That was just ridiculous. If the world ended, he’d be all alone.

“You’re not alone, Jon,” Martin said, and shit, had he said that out loud? “I’m here. I will always be here. I won’t ever leave you. I promise. I’m here. I’m here.”

“You’re here,” Jon whispered. The words felt raw in his throat, but it felt good to say them. He whispered them again and again, and Martin whispered them back to him. They passed the words back and forth, you’re here, I’m here, you’re here, and slowly, slowly, Jon felt the terror recede.

The storm didn’t lessen. If anything, it got worse, but oddly, that helped, too. The sharper the thunder got, the calmer Jon grew. A mighty thunderclap rattled the windows, and the power went out, making someone yelp from the other room, but Jon was able to take his first full breath. He slowly eased his grip on Martin’s shirt and sagged against him with a heavy sigh.

“Better?” Martin asked, rubbing his back.

“A little.” Jon tilted his head back and rested his chin on Martin’s chest, looking up at him. There was only the barest amount of light in the room, but it was enough to see the outline of his boyfriend’s face by. “Thank you.”

“Of course.” Martin pressed a light kiss to Jon’s forehead. “How’s your hand?”

“Hmm?” Jon became aware that his hand still hurt a lot. He eased it away from Martin and stared at it. It was red, almost raw, and he could see a couple of blisters on the palm that had miraculously remained intact, despite the grip he’d had on Martin’s shirt. “Oh. I—did I put it on the stove?”

“Apparently. Let me see.”

Jon managed a smile. He turned his hand over, palm up, and laid it in Martin’s. Martin hovered his thumb just over the top of Jon’s palm. “It’s still warm. Hold on, let me go find out what Tim’s got in that medicine cabinet of his.”

“Plenty,” a voice said from the doorway. Jon started, then relaxed when he realized it was his own voice, and that was still weird to hear. He looked up to see Past Jon coming in, a torch in one hand and a small handful of supplies in the other. “I was going to just leave it on the table for you, but…”

“Thank you,” Jon said sincerely. He didn’t leave the comfort of Martin’s embrace, though. The panic had left him a bit shaky and he wasn’t sure he could really sit up on his own, but more than that, he honestly didn’t give a damn if it made him look weak to lean on Martin. That was part of what love was, right?

Past Jon set the things in his hands on the table, then lined them up. “Cool compress, lotion, gauze, bandages. Paracetamol on the end if you need it for the pain. I—do you need a spare hand?”

“We’ve got it, but thank you,” Martin said. He picked up the compress, then pressed it gently to Jon’s hand. It was obvious he’d done this before, in some capacity.

Past Jon nodded and straightened, then hesitated before leaving the room. Awkwardly, he asked, “Can I…are you sure you’re okay? That looked a lot like, well, a panic attack.”

“It was,” Jon said softly. He hesitated, looking up into Martin’s eyes. Even though he knew Martin wasn’t really looking back at him per se, that he couldn’t actually see him, he could feel his attention, and they’d learned in the last few weeks that they knew each other well enough that they could still communicate wordlessly, to an extent. Turning back to his past self, he explained, “It was—the last thunderstorm I remember came up while I was reading…Jonah’s monologue.”

Past Jon flinched. “Ah. Well, I’ll, erm…I’ll leave you to that, then.” He gestured at the supplies and retreated back to the kitchen.

Jon and Martin sat in silence for a long moment. Martin kept applying pressure to the compress on Jon’s hand, his other hand securely supporting it, keeping it elevated. At last, Jon said, “I—I never asked if it was actually storming. That day. If it was…real thunder I heard or if it was just…the impending end of the world.”

“It was. I was on my way back. At first I thought I’d grab an umbrella, but then I thought…I thought I’d just stay downstairs until you finished your statement, then bring you a cup of tea or something. And then…” Martin trailed off and shook his head.

Jon bit his lip. “At least you made it back before…the Door Opened.”

“No, Jon,” Martin said softly. “I didn’t. I was still a good five minutes’ walk from the safe house when it happened.” He tried to laugh. “Ordinarily, anyway. I ran, as soon as I realized…I don’t know that I realized what exactly was going on, but I knew it was bad, and I knew that it was probably coming after you.”

“My God, Martin.” Horror ran through Jon’s body, and he reached out with his free hand to grip Martin’s shirt again.

“Hey, careful, I need room to work.”

“You were outside when—you c-could have been killed. God, I could have lost you and—”

“But you didn’t,” Martin reminded him. He leaned forward and rested his forehead against Jon’s for a moment. “I’m here, Jon. You’re here. We’re both here. We survived the end of the world. We made it. Together.”

Jon took a deep, steadying breath. “Maybe one day it won’t be so hard to remember that.”

“Well, I’ll always be here to remind you.” Martin straightened up and lifted the compress, then checked the heat of his palm and set the compress aside.

Jon glanced at the next item on the table and grimaced. “Of course the next step is lotion.”

“Do you want to do it yourself?” Martin asked. “You’ve got to keep things from drying out, but…I understand if someone else rubbing it in might be a bit much.”

At least that was something Jon had known he had an issue with before. Just not something he’d thought he would ever have to think about. He started to say yes, then shook his head, despite knowing Martin couldn’t see him. “No. No, will—will you do it? Please? I trust you.”

Martin’s face softened. They both knew what Jon was asking for. “Of course, Jon.”

He poured a little bit of the lotion into Jon’s hand. Jon tried hard not to flinch at the feel of it pooling into his cupped palm. Martin replaced the cap and set the bottle back on the table, nearly missing it, then took Jon’s hand and began gently massaging the lotion into it. Jon focused on Martin’s face and tried to regulate his breathing.

“Tell me something,” Martin requested abruptly.

Jon cocked his head, slightly off-balance. “What?”

“Anything. Your favorite play, your earliest childhood memory, your most embarrassing uni story. Anything.”

“O-oh, okay,” Jon said, surprised. He tried to think for a moment. “Ah—I’ve always been fond of The Duchess of Padua.”

Martin smiled encouragingly. “Yeah? I don’t know that one. Tell me about it.”

Jon launched into an explanation of the plot. The more into it he got, the more wildly he gesticulated with the hand Martin wasn’t attending to. Martin listened to Jon ramble the way he always did, with a smile and a look of genuine interest as Jon went on about a topic he knew nothing about and honestly didn’t care all that much about. He’d even told Jon, simultaneously not long ago and an eternity ago, that he’d always hated the theater, yet here he was letting Jon describe in technical detail the plot of a play he’d had no good reason to fall in love with.

“—staged very often, or studied for that matter, but I always thought it was fascinating,” he concluded with a sigh. “I actually rose a bit in a professor’s esteem because I used that one as the basis for our term paper on one of Wilde’s works rather than The Importance of Being Ernest or The Picture of Dorian Gray.”

“Yeah, I know how that goes. Best grade I ever got in school was on a paper I wrote on The Ballad of Reading Gaol.” Martin set something on the coffee table. “How’s that?”

“I—” Jon looked down at his hand. The lights were still out, but his eyes had adjusted, and he could see the stark white bandage looped neatly around his hand, securing the gauze without being too tight. “Oh. You’re done.” He gave his boyfriend a slightly accusing look. “You were distracting me.”

“You were panicking,” Martin told him. He wrapped both arms around Jon again. “I really was listening, though. I love listening to you talk about something you know a lot about. Or even something you’re just pretending you know a lot about.”

“Hey,” Jon protested, but without any real heat. He tucked his head into the crook of Martin’s neck and sighed, curling into him. “Thank you. For taking care of me. For knowing me so well. For being here.”

“Where else would I be?” Martin kissed the crown of his head. “I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

How many times had they passed those words back and forth, Jon wondered? He could probably Know the exact number, with a little effort, but it didn’t matter, because it wasn’t enough. Not nearly enough. They could say it with every breath they had left from now until the end of time, and it still wouldn’t be enough. Jon had made a vow, kneeling in the remains of what had once been his boss’s office and pressing futilely against the gaping wounds in Martin’s chest, that he would never leave an opportunity to say them unsaid. They didn’t need to say it for each other to know, but it was important to Jon that they did. And while Martin never said as much, Jon knew it reassured him to hear confirmation every once in a while.

They sat in silence for a while, Jon letting Martin’s presence and the secure feel of his embrace soothe away the last of his lingering terror, or at least his lingering immediate terror. The fear would never go away completely. He’d grown to accept that. But at least now it was just the usual hum of background terror that was his everyday life, rather than the sharp, immediate panic of a flashback. Here with Martin, he was as safe as he ever could be.

At last, he sighed. “We should probably go back into the other room before the others eat everything.”

“I’m sure they saved us some,” Martin said. “But sure. You’ll have to get up first.”

“Why?”

“Because you’re sitting on my lap, Jon.”

“Oh. Right. I knew that.” Jon managed to get to his feet. Martin chuckled as he stood, too.

Tim had lit several candles and was apparently mid-debate with Sasha over whether or not he should add another one to the mix. Past Jon rolled his eyes in Jon and Martin’s direction when they came in. “Please make them shut up.”

“Impossible, I’m afraid. They’re both breathing,” Jon said dryly. Tim snorted and Sasha stuck her tongue out at him. “It smells good in here. Have you been baking?”

“Electric oven. Jon barely finished cooking dinner before the power went out. It’s the candles,” Tim admitted. “One of the kids in the neighborhood keeps selling them to raise money for school trips and the like, and I’m apparently one of his best customers.”

“Well, if you add any more, the smell might be overpowering. Or you might set off your smoke detector.”

“Point. Okay, then, sit down and eat. We saved you a couple plates.”

Jon didn’t have to look at Martin to see the I-told-you-so look on his face.

As they ate, Sasha slid a piece of paper towards him, covered in neat, still-unfamiliar handwriting that Jon presumed to be hers. “Can you think of anything on here we missed?”

The lighting wasn’t really adequate to read the paper clearly, and Jon was tired, despite Martin’s presence and support; the panic attack had drained him a bit more than he’d expected. He was going to need something stronger than a couple of old statements to recover,  but he had no idea how to go out and get it. It all combined to make him forget himself a little. He reached out with the Eye rather than his own eyes to skim the paper. Sleeping mats, camp stoved, tinned food (ANYTHING but peaches)…

“What’s all this?” he asked, picking it up to see a bit better.

“Supplies,” Past Jon said brusquely. “You didn’t think we’d make you stay in those tunnels without some way of being comfortable, did you?”

Actually, Jon hadn’t thought about it. He picked up the list and studied it more closely, with his actual vision this time. It seemed like a fairly comprehensive list. There were a few things on it that he recognized as bearing his boyfriend’s hallmark, unexpected items that nevertheless might, in certain circumstances, make a huge difference. He angled the paper towards Martin. “Anything you have to add?”

Martin raised an eyebrow. “Unless that’s written in Braille, I don’t think I’m going to be of much use there.”

“Oh. Right.” Jon was thankful that the combination of his complexion and the low light in the room would probably hide his blush from anyone whose eyes still functioned.

Tim looked back and forth between the two Martins. “Wait, you know Braille?”

Past Martin ducked his head, looking mortified. Martin, however, simply nodded slowly. “Mum had one of those pill keepers, you know the ones. I taught myself Braille so I could know which pills to get ready for her without turning on the light before she was ready to be awake.”

The look on both Tim and Past Jon’s faces made Jon slightly glad, and also slightly disappointed, that Martin’s mother was dead. Then he remembered that she’d died while he was in his coma, so she was currently still alive in a nursing home in Devon refusing her son’s visits but accepting, even demanding, his money, and it was very difficult for him to swallow his own anger and uncharitable thoughts. He wasn’t a monster and couldn’t act like one, no matter how good his motives seemed.

Instead, he covered the moment by reading the list aloud to Martin. Martin listened and nodded and smiled when Jon hit the last item on the list. “I don’t think you need to worry about a tape recorder, honestly. They turn up on their own.”

“So I’ve noticed,” Tim said dryly. “But you said the tunnels blocked stuff at times. I figured, just in case…”

“Might be a comfort,” Past Martin suggested softly. It was the first thing he’d said since Jon and Martin had come into the kitchen.

“The tunnels don’t stop the recorders,” Jon said. “But…thank you. It’s thoughtful of you.”

Sasha nodded and took the list. “We’ll get everything together tomorrow, then, and you can find another entrance to the tunnels.”

“Will you be able to find the Archives?” Tim asked. “Through those tunnels, I mean? They’re a mess, honestly.”

“We’ll manage.” Jon actually wasn’t a hundred percent sure how easy it would be. He’d had a map made at one point, but that was after Leitner had manipulated things for him, and the tunnels were shielded from the Eye, somehow. He’d be lucky not to have to live with the ever-present…fuzziness he’d dealt with when they’d been staying with Georgie and Melanie and their inadvertent cult. But they really and truly didn’t have a choice.

“I suppose if we have to, we could put a—a beacon or something at the foot of the stairs under the trapdoor,” Past Jon said uncertainly.

Tim grinned. It looked slightly diabolical in the flickering candlelight. “Ooh, or one of those electronic gizmos they use in hunting to attract prey.”

“I’m very sure random deer calls would have the opposite effect than luring us to where you want us to go,” Martin said with a smirk. “Have you ever heard those things? They’re terrifying.”

The conversation devolved into a slightly silly discussion of the weirdest animal cries they’d ever heard, and Jon was able to breathe and eat his dinner without too much trouble.

That night, though, curled into bed with Martin, he said quietly, “What if it’s a bad idea? What if being down there…what if I fall apart again? What if it’s like at Salesa’s, but worse?”

“It won’t be,” Martin said. The confidence and assurance in his voice was almost a physical force.

“How can you know that, though?”

Martin ran a hand through Jon’s hair, gently untangling a knot that had probably got there during his panic attack in the living room. “Did you know that if you lose sight in one eye, you only lose something like twenty percent of your overall vision but all of your depth perception?”

“No?” Jon could have known that, if he’d wanted to, obviously, but it wasn’t something he’d ever consciously set out to learn. He also didn’t see how it was relevant.

“I mean, you can sort of train yourself to compensate for the depth perception, but yeah, twenty percent of your vision. Mostly peripheral. It makes it harder to see people coming from that side of things.” Martin’s fingers caught in another knot. “The Beholder really had two eyes overlooking the Apocalypse, Jon. Jonah and you. He saw from the heights and you saw from ground level. He oversaw, and you…experienced. I’d even go so far as to say you were the dominant eye, so to speak. Of course you were weak when you were cut off from it. It’s like a phantom pain. That won’t be an issue now. The Eye isn’t as…strong. You said yourself, you’re still…you, just not quite as…all-powerful?”

“Hopefully I’ve still got enough power to do what needs to be done,” Jon sighed, but Martin’s words were a comfort.

After a pause, Martin added, “And you have me.”

“And I have you,” Jon agreed. “And we can probably get fairly close to the Archives. All right, I know I’m probably worrying unnecessarily. It’s just…” He trailed off, tracing his fingers over the three puckered holes clustered just above Martin’s heart. Jonah had known what he was doing, far too well. “I can’t lose you again, Martin. I can’t. And I’ll never forgive myself if it happens because I wasn’t strong enough.”

Martin covered Jon’s hand with his own. “It won’t. You’re strong enough, Jon. I trust you. And you know I’ll be right there with you the whole time.”

“I know.” Jon snuggled into Martin’s chest, then leaned up to kiss him. “You know I can’t do this without you.”

“I wouldn’t want to see you try.”

Jon yawned and adjusted the covers over the both of them. Martin rolled onto his side and buried his face in Jon’s hair, and Jon sighed with almost-forgotten contentment as he drifted off to sleep, Martin’s heartbeat thudding steadily in his ear.

[ivystjamess]

𝐈 𝐃𝐎𝐍'𝐓 𝐏𝐋𝐀𝐘 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐑𝐔𝐋𝐄𝐒 𝐈 𝐌𝐀𝐊𝐄 𝐌𝐘 𝐎𝐖𝐍

WHO: @jazziejazxo​ and ivy st.james. ft mentions of: davis, julien, joey, kenna, noah, sammy, otto, lemon, ruby, eli, and winnie. WHEN: fri night. 2/5. WHERE: north hills mall. WHAT: bumping into each other at the mall, jaz and ivy have a heated exchange turned dream sequence of p!nk’s ‘cuz i can leading up to new direction’s regionals competition.

IVY LIKED TO THINK SHE HAD THREE HOMES. her actual one, whatever stage she be performing on (whether that be field or actual stage) and north hills mall. since entering her teenage years, she’d spent about as much time at the mall as she did doing her morning and nightly routines. so naturally, she knew the busy and the less busy times to go on her bi-weekly shopping sprees. thursday night was always pretty mild, and ivy liked it that way. she didn’t want to deal with a bunch of other people while shopping, who would? as she stepped onto the escalator to head down to the main floor, she caught the unmistakable gaze of jaz evans standing by the fountain and glaring daggers up at her. at this realization, ivy expedited her time on the escalator by walking down to give jaz a piece of her mind.

jaz’s intentions weren’t malicious at first. part of jaz’s goal for this semester was to refocus on the things that really matter. She was helping ND win regionals, being the best possible friend/sister/daughter, and checking drama at the door. after spending an entire weekend in bed and in constant worry that her voice wouldn’t recover from her random weekend sickness, jaz was more focused on these goals than ever. she was at the mall searching for the perfect gift to thank her mom for both taking care of her all weekend and helping her prep vocally for her big competition debut. but when she spotted ivy, all of that focus went out of the window. suddenly she was feeling just as insecure as she did when vocal adrenaline stormed the auditorium. her gaze didn’t waver even as ivy picked up speed. who did she think she was?

stepping up to the other girl, ivy shrugged her purse up on to her shoulder and flashed the fakest of smiles, “jaz so funny to see you here!” she started mild before concluding with a blunt, “i like couldn’t help but notice that look you were giving me.” a signature ivy st.james condescending pout graced her lips before she continued, “all shook up from the fundraiser? or was it our performance last week?” she asked with the tilt of her head. relations between ivy and jaz hadn’t always been so tense, in fact, they had a pretty healthy relationship prior to the blow up in the green room at sectionals. jaz always encouraged ivy to maybe be a little kinder, and ivy encouraged jaz to trust her talent a little more. that was all well and good until jaz had made it personal. taking ivy’s spot as captain? doing that duet with julien on the ski trip? ivy figured maybe jaz was a little ruthless with all this effort clearly being put into making her angry or jealous and arguing with her. with all this pent up frustration toward her former friend, ivy had no problem letting venom flow off her tongue unrestrained. “well, i have to get going! good luck with like, buying new directions’ cheap-o costumes or whatever you’re doing here. hopefully you find something that can hide the inevitably horrible choreography you’re going to be doing tomorrow. bye!” and with that, ivy turned her back, ready to walk away.

in a few blunt and nasty words, ivy had somehow confirmed all of the misconceptions jaz had made about this girl. somehow this new ivy was so bitter about not getting her way at sectionals that she literally transferred schools to create a “aha i told you so” moment. jaz was suddenly extremely angry at ivy, more than just disappointed. could she have been the reason davis just stopped talking to her out of the blue? jaz’s mouth moved faster than her brain could process. “honestly, whatever, ivy. just storm out or something…it’s the only thing you’re good at.” jaz spoke, venom dripping off of her words. she rolled her eyes and turned around, mumbling. “how were we even friends?”

wondering if maybe she had been a little too harsh, ivy froze in her place. obviously she didn’t want things to be this way. but ivy made her bed and had no problem laying in it. sure, there were surges where she missed the team, or the little moments like going to the pumpkin patch with jaz. it was the same as she got her surges of missing julien. but those days were over and gone. now? they were at war. 

both still heated from the exchange, their backs still turned, suddenly rock music began sounding throughout the mall as the pair aggressively whipped around to face each other. speaking over the music, jaz began ‘Rock and Roll, Rock! And I drink more than you! And party harder than you do! And my car's faster than yours too!’ making disgusted vocalizations at each other complete with lots of eye rolls and aggressive expressions, ivy pushed past jaz and strutted to the bathroom as she sang ‘P.I.N.K. P.I.M.P I'm back again I know y'all missed me.’ 

as the bathroom door swung open, ivy was suddenly in a locker room, donning work out gear. in the locker room, ivy continued to sing as she sat down on a bench and began taping up her hands, ‘Yeah I talk shit just deal with it.’ hands now taped, ivy continued to sing hostilely, slamming locker doors shut as she passed, the final one slamming shut as she belted, ‘You can try and try you can't be me!’

at the chorus, ivy and jaz both sounded as they popped up in different locations. ivy could be seen doing a variety of activities such as jumping rope, doing laps around an empty boxing gym characterized by black and blue ropes and banners, as well as sit ups all while davis lingered in the background either timing her, egging her on, or sitting on her feet as she did her sit ups. jaz, on the otherhand, remained in a gym decorated similarly to the other one, but with red and white adornments. in work out gear similar to ivy’s jaz also did a number of training activities; push ups, speed punching a punching bag, and running up and down the stands while julien stood by encouragingly as her coach. as this training went on they sang in perfect harmony, “but it's alright, I don't give a damn, I don't play your rules, I make my own, tonight I'll do what I want 'Cause I can”

when the chorus came to an end, the focus was pulled to jaz coming up from a push up and looking directly forward and singing, “I know I'm rare, you stop and stare, You think I care, I don't You talk real loud, But you ain't saying nothing cool” rising to her feet, she passed julien and gave him a high five as she moved to grab a water bottle and continued singing. glistening with sweat and aggression in her eyes, she arrived to the end of her verse and dramatically dumped the contents of her water bottle over her head as she belted out, ‘You can try and try you can't be me!’

moving into the second chorus, ivy and jaz were suddenly in a filled arena full of cheering fans. in ivy’s corner, eli, winnie, kenna, and sammy could be spotted sporting their TEAM IVY shirts in the front row, while in jaz’s corner noah, otto, lemon, and ruby could be spotted wearing their TEAM JAZ shirts as they cheered for the impending match. cutting between ivy and jaz as they entered with davis and julien from their tunnels, their voices again joined as they eyed each other from across the arena and sang their angst out. 

jaz hopped into the actual arena first where joey stood center in a referee’s shirt, but ivy was close behind. they were both followed by their respective coaches. as the bridge arrived, joey called the competitors to the middle of the ring. ivy and jaz shrugged off their blue and red robes and made their way to the center of the ring. while joey soundlessly laid out the rules of the boxing match, ivy and jaz’s eyes narrowed as they stared each other down. jaz began singing ‘yeah I'm super thick, people say I'm much too chick’ now verbally competing, ivy tauntingly cut her off, ‘come and kiss the ring, you just might learn a couple things.’ they were equally matched though as jaz now jumped in with ‘i'm tryin' to school ya dogs--’ but was abruptly stopped by joey blowing his whistle (which sounded a lot like ruff ruff ruff ruff ruff ruff ruff) and signaling their conduct was disorderly. paying no mind to the ref, ivy got right back in on the action with ‘i'm your worst nightmare.’ followed by a ‘bring it we can take it there’ from jaz, then concluded with ivy belting ‘what are you scared?’ over jaz singing the chorus.

with the climax of the song behind them, the last two sets of the chorus were filled with cut scenes of ivy and jaz leaning up against the ropes and vocalizing individually, circling each other in the rink ready to strike, and retreating to their corners to talk to their coaches. occasionally, a fan or two got rowdy enough in the crowd that it cut to their equally as energized antics, but when all was said and done, ivy and jaz stood in front of the north hills mall fountain wearing their normal clothes, backs facing each other, and absolutely silent other than the water bubbling beside them.

eventually both seem to come to the conclusion, it wasn’t worth engaging with one another. it would only be trouble, and a stinging reminder of friendship lost. it was easier to say nothing at all. so ivy stuck her chin up in the air, and jaz pushed some hair behind her ears, and they carried on their separate ways. 

THE END.

[jay-me-says]

Things Were Different Back Then

CHAPTER ONE: The Protagonist Returns

Masterpost w/ more info on the fic | Note: all SBI-related relationships here are platonic!

Tubbo fidgets with the buttons on his suit jacket, the shiny gold a pretty contrast to the forest green fabric. The notion seems utterly laughable to him, but he’s nervous to see Tommy.

It’s been a while since the blond was last in L’manburg. A few weeks after Tubbo became president, Tommy had left. “I just need to clear my head for a while. I’ll be back,” he had said. Nearly a month had passed with no Tommy and no word from him. Until a few days ago, when Tubbo had received a message via carrier parrot. It was from Tommy, saying he was okay and would be home in a few days.

Tubbo had felt happy at first, but now he was nervous out of his mind. The past few days had been spent making preparations for Tommy’s return. Everyone wanted to make his homecoming special, so the whole nation had pitched in to decorate and prep food to welcome Tommy back with a feast. The entire time he was helping prep, Tubbo had felt like a blob. A wobbly, wiggly version of himself that had no solid shape and was made only of nerves and worry.

He was terrified that something might go wrong, or that he hadn’t done enough to welcome his dear friend back home. Even with the entire nation covered in banners and candles and lanterns, Tubbo kept wondering what else he could do. He’d even been tempted to temporarily lift the ban on explosives to allow fireworks, but in the end decided it wouldn’t look good for a president to go around breaking his own laws.

Presently, Tubbo is standing about ten feet from the gates of L’manburg. One of the first things the country had done after the revolution against Schlatt (after tearing down and replacing the hideous obsidian flag of Manburg) was build a wall around their territory to prevent attackers from waltzing in freely. Along with that project had come a large gate. It was made of spruce wood and opened with a pulley on either side, requiring two people to lift it.

Watchtowers dot the wall, where people often take turns scanning the terrain beyond. Mainly, they watch for invaders from the Dream SMP. In the short time Tubbo has been president, there hasn’t been much activity. Just a scout every now and again. They keep watch anyways, on edge after a history full of war. Fundy is sitting in one of the towers closest to the gate, keeping an eye out for Tommy. Eret and Puffy each stand by one of the pulleys, talking. Everyone else mills around, staying close to the gate while talking to one another.

The air in the nation has been filling up with anticipation since Tubbo made the announcement about Tommy’s return. It feels like electricity, energizing the clusters of people, making them more alert. Every slight noise from outside the gate turns heads.

Tubbo, zoned out while worrying his mind and his button, doesn’t notice Niki approach. When she places her hand on the president’s shoulder, he startles, drawing in a sharp breath and snapping his head to look at her. Seeing that it’s just his fellow council member, the tension drops from his shoulders and he slowly exhales. After the Second Revolution, Tubbo had decided to alter the way L’manburg’s executive branch ran. Instead of a single president, he wanted there to be multiple leaders. Soon after the coup, before Tommy left, there was an election that voted himself, Niki, and Tommy in. Fundy has been acting as a stand-in for Tommy since he left.

Niki’s brow is creased slightly in concern. “Are you alright, Tubbo? You look nervous.”

He doesn’t try to hide it. “I am, Niki. I really am. It’s just,” he pauses for a moment and sighs, “it’s been so long since I’ve seen him. What if he’s changed a lot- what if I've changed- and we don’t get along?” Tubbo keeps fidgeting with his button, eyes locked on Niki’s.

Niki uses her hand on Tubbo’s shoulder to gently turn him to face her fully. She puts her free hand on his other shoulder and squeezes. Tubbo catches the sparkle of her promise ring to Puffy in his peripheral vision. “I can understand your worry, Tubbo, but I’m sure it’ll be fine. Even if he has changed, you’re Tommy and Tubbo, L’manburg’s favorite dream duo. You’ll work it out, I’m sure of it.”

The way Niki’s gaze locks onto Tubbo comforts him. She looks so certain. Like she’s telling Tubbo that the sky is blue. It settles him some, but he still grips the button on his jacket. His fingers have stilled, though.

“Thank you, Niki.”

“Anytime, Tubbo.”

Right as Niki finishes speaking, Fundy hollers from his tower. They both glance over as he yells, “Tommy’s back!”

Tubbo looks back to Niki, eyes wide with excitement. The other council member is grinning. She squeezes his shoulders again, then gives him a soft shove towards the gate. “Go! Go meet him!”

Nerves temporarily forgotten, the brunette takes off. The built-up electricity crackles through the air and into his body, making his limbs lighter. In that moment, Tubbo is sure that he has never run faster.

Eret and Puffy have started pulling up the gate and Fundy is scrambling down from the tower, rushing to join the crowd that has gathered a few feet away from the wooden bars. They are packed in tightly, already calling hellos to Tommy. When they notice Tubbo, though, they move and let him barrel through.

When he gets to the front of the crowd, stumbling to a stop, Tubbo’s eyes finally land on Tommy. His hair is ruffled and he’s smiling, eyes lit up as he scans over the crowd of his friends. When his gaze falls on Tubbo, he grins even wider. At the same moment, they take off running.

Now, Tubbo is sure, he’s never run faster. The boys nearly bowl each other over as they crash into a hug. They grip each other tightly. An observer would swear they’d never let go.

Relief and affection pools up inside of Tubbo, filling him to the brim and making him feel warm. Tommy is safe. Tommy is here, in L’manburg, in his arms. No more wondering where he is or if he’s okay.

“I missed you so much,” Tommy breathes, the hint of a laugh tangled in his syllables.

Tubbo sinks deeper into the hug. “I missed you, too. I’m so glad you’re back.” He grips the other boy tighter, if possible.

Their words are muffled, faces buried in each other’s shoulders. Tubbo could stay like this for hours and not mind.

But they do break apart. Tubbo tries not to feel a little sad and grins up at the taller boy, who grins back. He’s not sure he would ever admit this out loud, but Tubbo had missed those bright blue eyes of Tommy’s.

The taller boy grabs Tubbo’s right hand in his own and squeezes. The look he gives him sinks into the brunette’s soul, conveying words he hasn’t said aloud. We'll finish this later.

Tubbo nods and gently lets his friend’s hand go. As he walks away, it feels like something is missing. Like Tubbo has taken his hands off a warm mug and the cold is seeping into his skin. He can practically hear Tommy saying, “Clingy bitch.”

Tommy is greeted like a hero returning from slaying some vexatious beast. The crowd jumps on him, each person gripping him close in turn and welcoming him home.

As Quackity is greeted with a yell of “Big Q!” Tubbo finally notices the dog. Really, he’s unsure how he missed it in the first place. It’s about as large as a small bench and fluffy beyond belief, with fur the same color as the quartz blocks that make up the Prime church. Tubbo’s heart melts a little when he sees the familiar green bandana tied around the dog’s neck.

The dog barks in excitement, running around, picking up the crowd’s energy. Many L’manburgians are already dishing out pets. It’s a challenge, though. The dog only stays still for a few seconds before running more laps around the group.

Tubbo also notices the parrot, then, flapping around nearby Tommy’s head. It’s mostly green with just a little smudge of a lemony yellow on its forehead and wings. It’s the same parrot that delivered Tommy’s message. Tubbo had sent the bird back to Tommy afterwards, bearing a response letter and a little pouch with a few cookies made by Niki.

The light, energetic feeling vanishes from Tubbo’s limbs when he sees Tommy stood in front of Wilbur. The tall brunette looks uncomfortable, shifting his weight from foot to foot and picking at the hem of his gray sweater. For a few seconds, they do nothing but stand across from each other, staring. The scene sucks the electricity out of the air, hoarding it all and turning the pair into a greedy storm cloud.

Finally, Tommy reaches out a tentative hand. Wilbur glances between the hand and Tommy’s face, then carefully takes it. They shake and Tommy moves on quickly, finishing his greetings. The stolen electricity slowly leaks back into the atmosphere.

The group had moved outside of the wall earlier, following Tubbo after he booked it out to meet Tommy. Now, they lead the blond into L’manburg, towards the spruce platforms where the podium once stood. A long table has been set up and covered in food and dishware. Tubbo snags a seat next to Tommy and lets himself get swept away in the energy of the group. They loudly tell stories, taking turns updating Tommy on what’s happened since he left and listening as the blond regales them with tales from his time away. Being around everyone like this, eating together and talking about anything and everything, warms Tubbo’s heart. He feels happy. By the time the sun sets, his cheeks are aching from so much smiling.

The L’manburgians stay at the table well into the night, orange light cast from lanterns keeping the mobs at bay. But as the moon traces a path through the sky, the group slowly thins out and people return to their homes for the night. Eventually, there are only a few people left at the table.

After Quackity leaves, clapping his hand on Tommy’s shoulder when he walks by, the blond nudges Tubbo to get his attention. “Do you want to head back up to your house? I’m pretty tired.”

Tubbo agrees and the two say their goodbyes, leaving Eret, Philza, and Fundy as the final three at the table. Tubbo privately wonders where Wilbur has gone, figuring he would’ve stayed with his father and son, but thinks better than to ask. It seems like a charged question, and he’d rather not ruin the mood.

As Tubbo and Tommy make the short walk home, the dog and the parrot trailing along behind them, there isn’t a single quiet moment. They chatter back and forth about everything and nothing. Tubbo once again feels warm. He’s missed this, all of it. Everything that he couldn’t do with Tommy while he was gone.

When they reach his house, Tubbo opens the door and gestures for Tommy to go in first. The dog follows, parrot sitting atop his fluffy head, then Tubbo enters. Tommy, of course, has his own home in L’manburg to stay in. He was around long enough after the revolution against Schlatt to build one. But they had decided via carrier parrot that he would stay with Tubbo for a few days, giving the pair time to catch up and see each other more.

While Tommy gets settled in the guest room, Tubbo sits in a wooden chair near the bed and they keep talking. Tubbo never seems to run out of words with Tommy around.

“So, what’s up with the dog?” Tubbo inquires as the great, fluffy wolf sits in front of him. It places a large paw on his lap, so Tubbo scratches its head.

Tommy flits between his bag and the wardrobe, putting away his armor and spare clothes. “That’s Walter. I had set up camp for a bit in some woods and he came to check it out. I gave him some steaks and when I went to leave, he followed. He’s been with me for about half the time I’ve been away, I think.”

“He’s massive.”

Tommy cracks a smile. “Seriously. A child could use him as a pony.”

Still petting the dog, Tubbo turns his gaze to the parrot sitting on the headrest of the bed. He makes a mental note to bring Tommy some things for it tomorrow. “Did you name the parrot?”

“Yeah, Henry II. What’s up with the parrots anyways?” He pauses in putting away his things and looks at Tubbo, brow creased in confusion.

“It was Ponk’s idea. He figured it would be nice to have a way to send messages, so he’s been training up parrots. He runs a little mail building where most of them are kept. Got built a week or so after you left.”

“Has it actually been helpful?” An edge of doubt creeps into Tommy’s voice, but he seems rather curious.

“I mean, it was helpful to get some warning before you got back, so we could prepare to give you a big welcoming. Besides that, it has been pretty convenient. I’ve been using the system to send people notes. It’s sort of nice to not have to go to peoples’ houses to communicate with them.”

Tommy hums in response as he resumes putting away his things. As he finishes, shutting the wardrobe, he says, “That was really nice, by the way. Thank you, you guys didn’t have to do that.”

“Of course we did. We all wanted to. Although, the decorations were mostly Wilbur. Man barely stopped working on them since we got word you were coming.”

Tubbo realizes too late that he probably shouldn’t have brought up Wilbur, especially after how tense Tommy had been back at the gate with him. Kicking himself, he hurries on, “By the way, Tommy, you’re still invited to take back your council seat. I’m sure Fundy will be thrilled to be relieved of his post. He’s been working really hard, but he doesn’t enjoy it all that much.”

Tommy pushes the tip of his shoe into the floor and glances off to the side. “Er, yeah, about that, do you think he could stay on just a little while longer? I- I don’t know if I’m feeling up for that yet. Everything is so different, and I just need some time to adjust if…if that’s alright.” He looks at Tubbo again on the last sentence. Tubbo is a little surprised but understands. “I’m sure you could ask him about it. I was planning to show you around tomorrow anyway, so we could stop by his and Phil’s and Wilbur’s house and speak with him. We could invite Niki along, as well.”

If asked, Tubbo would say he wants to invite Niki because she’s also on the council, and conversations about the council should involve her. And that is partly true, but he also wants another buffer in case they end up talking to Wilbur.

Tubbo tries to start up the conversation properly again, but it’s not quite the same. Tommy still seems somewhat tense, and sort of withdrawn. The brunette wishes he hadn’t brought up Wilbur like that. The comment had turned the air thick- it almost felt hard to breathe.

When he thinks he might suffocate by staying in the room any longer, Tubbo says goodnight, wanting out before his tongue can dig him a deeper hole. “I’m just down the hall if you need me,” he adds as he gets up from the chair.

Before he can leave, Tommy crosses the room and grabs his friend’s arm, tugging him into a hug. Tubbo squeezes back, again glad that the boy is in L’manburg and within his reach once more. A small smile tugs at his features.

“I really did miss you, Tubbo. Thank you for the party,” Tommy murmurs against Tubbo’s shoulder.

“Of course, Tommy. We were glad to do it.”

The boys break apart and say a final goodnight before Tubbo goes to his room. As he gets ready for bed, he thinks about how Tommy is acting about Wilbur; he sort of shut down after the mention of him. It worries the brunette, but he tries to brush it off. Surely, it’ll be fine in a few days. Tommy just needs to get used to being back and sort things out with his brother.

‘

You can also read this on Ao3! | Next Chapter Please consider reblogging if you enjoyed! <3

[iamtrebleclefstories]

Every Day I Love You More - Ch. 5

Chapter 5 - YOU DIDN’T KNOW? 

After having drunk sex, Jo and Alex are having a baby. An actual baby. Here’s how everyone finds out.

-Sequel to I’m Happy Right Here with You-

Alex slips up, more people find out. 

It had been three days since Callie found out about Jo’s pregnancy and there had been no shortage of teasing remarks from Callie and Cristina. Every time Jo or Alex were left in a room with either of them, they were forced to hear the endless jokes being made about them and their drunk sex baby. Jo found it funny if she was being honest. The lightheartedness of this pregnancy was so refreshing considering what happened the last time. The jokes were a welcome distraction from the fact that Jo was in the process of filing from divorce from Paul and her lawyer was going to submit those papers by the end of the week.

That morning, she’d woken up before Alex did, which wasn’t unusual. However, for the first time in weeks, she woke up without the sudden need to vomit. She laid there on her side and stared at his sleeping form for a while longer. It was surreal waking up next to him. This morning especially so, since it wasn’t clouded by overwhelming nausea. Jo was convinced that there was no way that this was her real life. She had to be dreaming.

She had been stroking his hair for a few minutes when Alex spoke, “You know, watching people sleep is kind of creepy.”

Alex opened his eyes only to find Jo rolling hers, “Can’t you be normal and just say, ‘Good morning, babe. I love you and I can’t believe you’re carrying our baby.’ Can’t you do that?”

“Good morning, babe. I love you and I can’t believe you’re carrying our baby,” Alex gave Jo a quick kiss as Jo gave him a look of annoyance. “Hey! You’re not throwing up today. That’s a good sign.”

“Yup,” Jo nodded. “I feel great, actually. I think the baby finally decided to cooperate.”

Alex placed his hand on her flat stomach, “I can’t wait until you have a bump.”

“You mean until I get fat? Honestly, neither can I,” Jo smiled. “But Lucy said it might be a while before I start showing. I have a retroverted uterus so I’ll probably start showing later than most women. But I guess that’s a good thing. The longer I can hide my pregnancy, the less of a chance for Paul to find out and try plea presumed paternity and make our lives a mess.”

“He can try and try, but he won’t win, Jo. This is our kid and if we need to do a paternity test to prove it, then we will. He has no rights here,” Alex assured.

Jo took a deep breath and thought of how supportive Alex had been ever since she had confessed to him about her marriage. She exhaled, “You’re right. He has no rights. This baby is ours and he can’t take it away from us.”

They laid in the bed for a few more minutes in silence before deciding it was time to get up and get ready. After having been on Peds for over a month now, Jo had switched onto a different service for the next couple weeks. A part of Jo was a bit disappointed that she wouldn’t get to spend the entire day with Alex anymore, but she supposed she should be excited for a chance to learn something new. For the next two weeks, she’d be on neuro with Derek Shepherd.

When Jo and Alex arrived at the hospital, they parted ways and Jo went down to the residents’ lounge. She smiled as she saw her friends getting changed into their scrubs for the day. Jo grabbed a clean pair of scrubs and started to change clothes. Just as she was pulling her shirt off, she heard Stephanie whistle.

“Damn, Jo. Did you do anything different? Because your boobs look great,” Stephanie commented.

“Oh,” Jo laughed awkwardly. “It’s just a new bra… is all. Ever since Alex and I got together, I decided to update some pieces of my wardrobe if you know what I mean.”

“Look at Jo, trying to be all sexy for her man,” Stephanie teased.

“I bet he loves it,” Leah wiggled her eyebrows. “How many times a day do you catch him staring at your boobs in that thing?”

“Way too often,” Jo admitted.

The girls laughed and continued to get dressed. Once ready, Jo made her way to the Neuro ICU where she’d be meeting Dr. Shepherd for rounds. It had been a while since she had been on a neurosurgery, so Jo was excited for the next couple of weeks. The first patient she’d be rounding on was a trauma that came in last night. The man had massive internal injuries that were addressed immediately after coming into the hospital. He had not been stable enough last night to take in for surgery that would stop a slowly growing brain bleed, so Dr. Shepherd would take him in first thing this morning to correct it.

“Wilson. It’s good to have you on my service again,” Derek smiled as they walked out of the patient’s room. “How are you doing? I haven’t really gotten a chance to speak with you since you and Karev got together. He’s been hogging you to his service.”

“I doing great,” Jo grinned. “Excited to be on neuro again.”

“Well, you will be getting just a bit of peds today,” Derek shared. “We’ve got a baby with spina bifida that we’ll be working on this afternoon with Karev. Are you thinking about going into peds?”

“Honestly, I don’t know,” Jo shrugged. “I like everything. I do love peds, but who knows? Maybe I’ll end up in cardio or neuro or ortho. Don’t tell Alex I said that, though. I think he’s trying to be my Robbins.”

“No worries. Your secret is safe with me,” Derek chuckled. “Come on, let’s go. We’ve got a brain bleed to stop and a couple aneurysms to clip before our fun spina bifida surgery.”

The day went by pretty smoothly for the most part. The guy with the brain bleed came out of surgery without any major deficits. Jo had assisted in a couple aneurysm clippings and now they were on their way to the pediatric wing to visit the spina bifida baby in the NICU. When Derek and Jo arrived, Alex was already giving the parents a brief rundown of what their baby—Brandon’s—surgery would entail. Derek explained the procedure in a bit more detail and encouraged the parents not to fear.

While Jo prepped the patient, Derek and Alex prepared to scrub in together. Alex looked up at the older man, "Hey, can I ask you a question?"

"Sure, Karev. What is it?" Derek nodded.

"Has Jo been okay today? I'm just wondering because she looked a little dizzy and unsteady this morning before we left the house," Alex inquired.

"She's seemed alright to me," Derek encouraged. "We've performed quite a few surgeries today and she hasn't swayed once. Why is something wrong?"

"No," Alex shook his head. "I was a little worried. She just got over the morning sickness a couple days ago and it was pretty hard on her. I didn't want the next thing to be dizzy spells that could affect her work."

Unsure what to do with the new information he'd received, Derek just decided to go about the conversation as if he know what was going on, "Oh, well she's fine. Great even."

Alex nodded thankfully as Derek mulled over Karev's words. Alex must've thought that Derek already knew about Wilson's pregnancy from Meredith, so he decided to go about the procedure as if nothing had happened. The surgery was successful and Derek decided that he'd let Wilson leave early. Everything else could wait until tomorrow.

As he arrived home that night, Derek kissed his wife and kids. He ate something quickly and spent the next few hours on the phone with D.C. as they tried to come up with more plans about the brain mapping initiative. Finally, at around eleven o'clock, he was able to get ready for bed. Derek had been sitting in the bed reading a medical journal when Meredith walked into the room.

“How was your day?” Meredith asked as she climbed under the covers.

“It was good,” Derek smiled. “I had Wilson on my service today. She is a very good and capable resident. Incredibly sharp. We clipped a couple aneurysms, stopped a brain bleed, and operated on a little boy with spina bifida.”

“Awe, like Zola,” Meredith commented. “Sounds like you had a pretty calm day today. Those are nice when you come home to two kids under the age of three.”

“You are so right,” Derek nodded and gave Meredith a quick kiss. “Oh! I almost forgot. Why didn’t you tell me that Alex is having a kid?”

“What?” Meredith sat up from the bed. “What are you talking about?”

“Wilson is pregnant,” Derek stated. “Karev mentioned something about how he was glad that she was mostly over the morning sickness now. But he said he wanted to keep a close eye on her because this morning at the house she seemed a bit dizzy.”

“What?” Meredith was confused. “Wilson is pregnant?”

“Wait… You didn’t know?” Derek asked.

“Would I be reacting like this if I knew?” Meredith was shocked. There was no way one of her best friends was having a kid and she didn’t know about it. “No. There’s no way. Alex would tell me if he were having a kid. He’s one of my best friends.”

“I don’t know,” Derek shrugged. “He mentioned the morning sickness so casually, it was like he assumed I already knew. That or he slipped up and didn’t realize what he said.”

“No, I’m sorry,” Meredith jumped up from the bed. “I can’t sit here wondering. I’m going over there right now to find out.”

“Meredith! It’s midnight. Don’t go bother them. You’ll see them tomorrow,” Derek tried reasoning with his wife.

“I can’t wait,” Meredith shook her head as she threw on a pair of jeans. “This is huge. This is life changing, Derek. This cannot wait until tomorrow.”

Before long, Meredith was on her way to Alex’s house. When she parked in the driveway, she searched around her purse for the old set of keys to the house. Finding them, she made her way up the porch steps and let herself in through the glass door. She walked up the porch steps and stormed into Alex’s room yelling, “You guys are having a baby?”

Alex and Jo—who’d been sleeping peacefully—startled out of sleep. Jo screamed as she saw Meredith’s dark figure lingering by the door. Alex sat up quickly, trying to assess the situation and determine if they were in any immediate danger. Finally realizing it was Meredith, he slumped back down onto the bed, “Dude. What the hell? Why are you yelling?”

“Is it true? Wilson are you pregnant? Are you guys having a baby?” Meredith interrogated.

“What?” Jo said, distraught.

“Derek said that Alex mentioned how he was happy that your morning sickness was gone, so then he asked me if I knew that you guys are having a baby.”

“Shit… I didn’t even realize I said that,” Alex rubbed a hand over his face. “Jo, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to tell him.”

“It’s okay,” Jo shook her head.

“So, it is true?” Meredith asked. “You guys are having a baby! Alex, how could you have a baby and not tell me about it? This is huge!”

“What is going on?” Cristina had woken up to shouting coming from down the hall and came to investigate once she recognized her best friend’s voice.

“Did you know?” Meredith turned to Cristina.

“Did I know what?” Cristina made a face. “And why are you screaming?”

“Did you know that Alex is going to be a father?” Meredith demanded.

Cristina froze, eyes wide, “Um…”

“Oh my God! You knew and you didn’t tell me,” Meredith accused. “I can’t believe you wouldn’t tell me this. I had to find out about it from my husband.”

“Hold on, you told Derek before telling Meredith?” Cristina looked at Alex. “That’s a crappy move, man. Even for you.”

“I didn’t mean to tell Derek,” Alex defended. “I said something about Jo’s morning sickness and he must’ve thought that Meredith already knew.”

“Hello, pregnant person over here wants to speak,” Jo gathered everyone’s attention. “Look, Dr. Grey. We didn’t want to tell anyone until I hit twelve weeks. I’m sure you can understand that. Yang found out because she lives here and saw the pregnancy test boxes in the trash, and Torres found out because I had to leave the room for an x-ray. I’m sorry you had to find out like this, but if it makes you feel any better, there’s an ultrasound picture on the fridge downstairs.”

“Even Callie knows?” Meredith sighed. “Look, I’m sorry. I was just a little blindsided finding out this way. I’m happy for you two. I’m sure you are going to make wonderful parents. Wait, you said you have an ultrasound picture already? How far along are you?”

Jo grimaced, knowing that as soon as she shared how far along the was there would be a whole new slew of questions. Jo took a deep breath, "Just a bit over ten weeks."

"How are you ten weeks? My birthday was ten weeks ago and you guys weren't together then," Meredith scrunched her face. She lowered her voice and sat down in front of Jo. "Are you sure Alex is the father?"

"Mer!" Alex chastised.

"What? I'm making a valid question," Meredith lifted her hands in apology. "As far as I remember, Alex, you and I had a conversation at my birthday party where I told you that you were being stupid and to make a move because I couldn't stand seeing you pouting and staring from afar."

"We did?" Alex asked. "I don't remember."

"Well, yeah figures, because you were completely wasted," Meredith reminded. "So, explain this to me so I can understand."

Alex and Jo both sat in silence, reluctant to verbalize what had happened that night between the two of them. Cristina, on the other hand, had been waiting for a moment like this to present itself. Bursting at the seams, Cristina blurted, "They had drunk sex the night of your party and accidently made a baby."

Meredith stood there stunned for a moment before breaking out in laughter, "Oh my... oh my God… you guys… Haha, you made a drunk sex baby. you know I can't say I'm surprised that this is how you are becoming a father, Alex. It's karma for all those years of being a man-whore. You on the other hand, Wilson, you surprise me. Didn't think you had it in you."

Jo buried her face in her hands in embarrassment and Alex glared at Meredith and Cristina as he felt his face get hot. This was not how he had pictured Meredith finding out about his kid, but he guessed that there was really no other way that would feel like them. Alex was glad that Meredith knew, because now he could ask her tons of parenting advice and tips on dealing with the hormone changes Jo would be experiencing very soon.

"Wow. I can't believe it," Meredith said after calming down. "Alex Karev. In love. A father. you're all grown up. You see, I told you that Wilson would be good for you."

"Yeah, yeah, whatever. You were right," Alex grumbled. "Now get out of my room and go home."

"I'm not going home," Meredith stated. "I'll stay with Cristina. Now, Jo you said something about an ultrasound picture?"

"Yeah... it's downstairs on the refrigerator," Jo replied, removing the hands covering her face. "Well, at least we don't have to worry about hiding it when you come over."

Meredith smiled, grabbing Cristina by the arm to drag her down the stairs to look at the sonogram. Just as Meredith was about to leave the room, she popped her head back in the doorway, "Oh and just so you know, I fully expect to get a copy of every ultrasound photo from here on out."

"Get out!" Alex huffed.

"Goodnight," Meredith grinned.

[ktrsss1fics]

Cake By The Ocean: Seven.

It was four o’clock in the afternoon and Georgina Ferguson was dancing her way around the kitchen. Her boyfriend was gingerly cutting vegetables beside her while Fleetwood Mac filled the air with happiness.

It had been three days since their secret was out. The entire house had gone through an array of emotions during those three days. Everyone did their own thing. Jenna, Keith, Mags and Jamie hit the beaches hard. Brittany and David went on a tour up the coast. Niall whisked Georgina off on a flora and fauna adventure hoping to put her in a better mood. 

It didn’t work though. 

She still spent a good amount of time in their room afraid of what was going to happen next. It wasn’t until a heart to heart phone call with her mother that she realized the best way to smooth things over with her friends was to show them how much she loved them. 

Because she did. She loved them more than they could ever know. They had become family and she was stupid for ever thinking they wouldn’t approve of her relationship with Niall. They had been rooting for them to get together from the moment they met. She should have known better.   

After a brief conference with her boyfriend, Georgina decided that a nice home cooked meal and a quiet night in was the best way to show her appreciation. They spent a majority of the morning preparing to do just that. 

By the time afternoon hit, Maggie and the rest of the gang were curious as to what was happening in the kitchen. Before anyone could ask what was going on, their favorite Irishman beat them to it. In his best posh accent, Niall informed the crew that they were expected to be back in the kitchen at 4:30 wearing their best lounge wear for the cocktail hour. Unsure if he was being serious, David led the troops back to their rooms until the time was right. 

After changing into something more comfortable, everyone made their way into the living room where they waited anxiously for the cocktail hour to begin. 

“We goin’ to a five star restaurant or what? I don’t need a starter hour. I need a main course. I’m bloody famished.” Dave groaned resting his head on Brittany’s shoulder.

“Oh, let them have their fun.” Jamie said. “I’m sure it’ll be lovely.”

“The Baby can’t properly season chicken.” Jenna quipped. “This meal is all Ferg— assuming we’re getting a meal.”

“Her secret talent is that she’s an ace in the kitchen.” Brittany said running her hands through David’s hair. “Rumor has it she’s making Lydia’s roast dinner.”

David’s eyes lit up. “I fucking hope she is.”

“I’m quite pleased with the dress code.” Keith said smoothing out the fabric of his joggers.

“Um excuse me, not to change the subject, but are you guys seeing what I’m seeing?” Mags said snapping towards the kitchen where  Niall was acting like a goofy boyfriend. “He’s beaming.”

“Forget, Ni. Look at how happy she looks.” Jamie said nodding towards Georgina. 

“I’ve never seen her like this.” 

“You’ve never seen her truly happy then. That little Irish shit has fought long and hard to keep the rain clouds that used to follow her around away.” Brittany said as she looked at her best friend. 

“I’d say this is probably the happiest she’s been in about a decade. Right, love?” David said with a sigh. 

“Just about.” Britt smiled. Although she didn’t appreciate being kept in the dark, she was genuinely happy for both of her best friends. They deserved each other. 

“She’s in love with him.” Maggie said looking at Britt for confirmation. The blonde just nodded. 

“This is fucking brilliant.” Jamie said happily. 

The group of friends sat in silence as Georgina coached Niall through the prep work for her grandad’s special Yorkshire pudding. Her tone was gentle. Seeing Georgina’s soft side was a real treat for a majority of the group. The cold and standoffish woman they had first met was no longer there. Her guard was down and it was the most fascinating thing they had ever seen — and that was saying something.

“How are we gonna protect them?” Keith asked. 

That was the question that had popped into each of their heads as soon as the news broke. They knew how difficult it was for Niall to balance his public and private personas. Adding a serious relationship to that equation wasn’t going to be an easy feat. They didn’t know how they could help but they were going to try their hardest to keep their friends safe.

“Well for starters, no more randos.” Mags said glancing at Keith. 

“Yeah, Ferg made that real clear on Day One.” Keith said dryly making Jenna laugh. 

“I don’t think there is anything we can really do besides support them.” Jamie pointed out. They had  never really interfered with Niall’s life before and he didn’t think they should start now.

“No we can do more than that.” Jenna said as she was met by an assortment of confused glances. “We are going to stop inviting Marco and Ash to get-togethers and on vacation.” 

“I second that!” Mags said as her eyes lit up. “They are suppliers of constant drama and honestly she is bloody annoying now that she got her tits fixed.”

“I think the one way to protect Ferg and Niall is to not let Marco and Ash find out about them.” Keith said. “The less people that know the better.”

“Miller’s right. I don’t know how we are gonna do that though. I want them to be free around us but like how?” Jenna said. 

“I think we should just treat them the same as we’ve always treated ‘em.” Brittany said. “They are gonna need that now more than ever.”

“Britt’s right. Ferg and Ni are gonna need normalcy. Shitting on him and poking fun at her — that’s what will help protect them.” Dave said. “Moment we start acting weird, they might change. Then the foundation of their relationship could start to crumble and before we know it we have two broken hearts. Personally, I don’t want to deal with that shit.”

“How—How do we do that with the knowledge we have?” Maggie asked sounding hesitant. 

“Well if you lot didn’t shit on The Fearsome Foursome so much then you’d know how to do it.” Keith said with a smug smirk. 

“They neve—“ Britt started to say confused. 

“You wouldn’t know because you twats always ditch us.” Jenna said before nodding at Keith. “They get extra flirty and we just let it be. It’s our thing.”

“I find that hard to believe, Jens.” Maggie said. 

“It’s the fucking truth, Margaret.” Keith said a little louder than he intended. The group froze as they felt eyes on them from the kitchen. 

“Y'alright over there?” Niall asked munching on a carrot. 

“Bloody brilliant, babes.” Keith winked playfully. 

“Starters are ready.” Fergie called out as she walked past Niall. “Just finishing up the sangria.”

“She’s already drank half of it so hopefully you get a taste.” Niall popped off— earning himself a smack across the back of the head. A soft giggle escaped as he went back to finishing up his task.

“So to sum things up, we’ve  missed out on a lot of cute shit.” Dave said with a grin. “And personally, I’m excited to witness it first hand.”

“Why the fuck do you keep sayin’ personally? Is that your word of the day, mate?” Brittany teased looking down at him. 

“Georgina, Brittany is being rude to me.” Davey whined making the others laugh. 

“You probably deserve it, mate.” Fergie called back. 

“He most certainly does not. David is a goddamn angel. Never does anything wrong.” Niall said. 

“Exactly! Well except for when I told her to sit on your face in Aruba — that wasn’t a good comment to make.” Dave laughed. “I’ll admit that.”

“Yeah, that wasn’t a good look.” Jamie said scrunching up his face. “Or that time you made him take his top off before we FaceTimed her so he’d look like a proper lad.”

Niall’s eyes went wide. “We promised we would never speak about that day ever again, James.”

“What the fuck?” Jenna said looking around the room. 

“You guys always end up being shirtless together. I’m starting to get concerned.” Maggie said looking at her fiancé. “Why are you lot always shirtless?”

“Don’t ask me about my business, Kay.” Jamie said in an attempt to sound like Al Pacino. 

“What kind of business do you have that involves you getting your tits out?” Jenna asked. 

Keith shrugged. “Just lads’ stuff.”

“But like what’s—“ Brittany said before Niall stormed into the room cutting her off. 

With the Irishman leading the ship, a very passionate chant about being lads began while the group of men danced around the room. 

“You boys are fucking weirdos.” Georgina said as she looked at her girls. “Um, we’re ready for you.”

Ignoring the awkward mosh pit taking place around them, the girls headed quietly into the kitchen where a very delicious looking spread was waiting for them. Four glasses of sangria were sitting on the counter. 

“Next time we plan a vacation, let’s make it a Hen House only trip.” Georgina joked as the boys continued to act like fools. 

“Either that or we rent our own house without them.” Jenna said taking one of the glasses of wine. 

“It’d be drama free. That’s for sure.” Britt said.

“It would just be a lot of Spice Girls and wine.” Jenna said. 

“Sign me the fuck up for that.” Georgina said passing wine glasses to Mags and Brittany. 

The four women watched in silence as an impromptu jam sesh to Toto’s “Africa” filled the living room. 

“They are such idiots sometimes.” Jenna laughed as David placed Niall on his shoulders. 

“And to think they are all sober.” Mags said shaking her head. 

“They might be idiots but I wouldn’t change them for the world.” Brittany said scooting over towards her best friend. 

“You know, I’m really happy the universe brought us all together.” Georgina said clutching the glass in her hand. 

“Like think of all the little moments that were added together to get us to this point.”

“You on drugs, Blondie?” Brittany said eyeing her best friend playfully. 

“I’m just sayin’ I’m really thankful for this moment and for all of you and—and—“ Georgina said incapable of finding the right words to say. “I know I’m shit at this kinda stuff but thanks for putting up with me for all these years.”

“We love ya, Georgie.” Britt said resting her head on Georgina’s shoulder. “We’re always gonna love ya.”

“I’m sorry.” She said glancing at her friends. “I should have—“

“No, you shouldn’t have. I would have kept it a secret too.” Jenna said keeping her eyes on Niall. “He’s like a rare gem and I wouldn’t want anyone to find out about him until it was necessary.”

“Would we have liked to know you were in love with our best friend? Obviously, yes.” Mags said softly. “But like your safety and comfort are the most important thing to us. I would have waited to tell too. His life is hard and I wouldn’t want to jeopardize my relationship with him just to tell my friends.”

“Exactly!” Jenna said with a smile. 

Brittany wrapped her arm around Georgina’s and stood up straight. “Bottom line baby, we’re just happy that you’re happy.”

“So serious question, Georgina.” Maggie asked reaching out for a piece of pita bread. “You two made out in Vegas, yeah?” 

“I plead the fifth.” Georgina blushed.  

“What are we lying about in here?” Niall asked appearing in the kitchen with the rest of the boys. Each of them significantly out of breath. 

“She won’t admit you two made out in Vegas.” Mags said with a smirk. 

“He got her flowers. Obviously, they made out.” Dave said popping an olive into his mouth. 

“How’d you know he bought them?” Brittany asked. 

“C’mon babe. It’s Fergie and Niall.” Dave said making Georgina laugh. 

“They made out in Aruba. Beats your little Vegas obsession.” Keith said pouring himself a glass of sangria. 

“How do you know that?” Jenna asked confused. 

“Context clues, babygirl.” Keith winked. 

“Keith, you’re a fucking idiot, mate.” Georgina laughed. 

“Georgina! You cheeky little minx.” Mags said in shock. 

“He kissed me first!” Georgina said in defense. 

“Atta boy.” Keith said patting Niall on the back. 

“I don’t know why you lot are shocked over this. It was bound to happen — especially when these two use plant talk as foreplay.” David said.

“Hey! I’ve got more game than that.” Niall said in mock offense. 

“Oh I’m not discrediting that at all, babes.” Dave smiled before nodding over at Georgina. “But you start talking about a fuckin’ bougainvillea plant and this one nearly creams her pants.”

“David!” Brittany said with a sigh. 

“That’s rich coming from the lad who got a hard on when the pictures of that black hole were released.” Georgina shot back earning a few snickers from their friends. 

Dave opened his mouth to defend himself but nothing came out. Georgina took a sip of her drink while the rest of their friends laughed at the sight of a speechless David Watson. 

“Did Davey just get lawyered?” Jenna asked in shock. 

“More like annihilated.” Brittany said with a smirk.

“Speaking of annihilation, did you lot see the score of the Laker game the other day? Yikes.” Jamie said as a very detailed conversation about basketball began. 

Ignoring the conversation, David walked over and wedged himself between the two women he knew the longest. He slid an arm around Georgina, pulling her into his side. 

He leaned down and whispered,“You know I love you, right?”

Georgina nodded as she took a sip of her drink.

“We’re having a date at Perch when we get home.” He said with a smile.

She looked up at him in shock. “Really?”

David nodded. “Your personal growth deserves a lot more than a few drinks at a dive bar.”

Georgina leaned up and kissed Dave on the cheek. 

“Oi keep your mitts off me girlfriend, mate.” Niall popped off causing the room to grow quiet. 

“Your what?” Dave said with a smug look on his face. 

“Fergie’s my girlfriend.” Niall said with pride.

The look on his face let everyone know that things were going to be alright.

[greyias]

FIC: Smoke and Mirrors - Chapter 11

Title: Smoke and Mirrors Fandom: SWTOR Pairing: Theron Shan/f!Jedi Knight Rating: T Genre: Pre-Relationship, Slow Burn Synopsis: Something’s rotten on Carrick Station, and Theron won’t rest until he finds out what. But picking at the frayed threads of suspicion quickly unravels a conspiracy much larger than even the Republic’s top spy can handle on his own. (A mostly canon-compliant retelling of the Forged Alliances storyline, as seen through the eyes of Theron Shan.) Author’s Notes and Spoilers: See Chapter 1.

Chapter Index: 01 | 02 | 03 | 04 | 05 | 06 | 07 | 08 | 09 | 10 | Crossposted to AO3

All-in-all, Darok was not gone at all that long. Just a few minutes if that.

Maybe he went to the refresher, Theron thought to himself sarcastically. Just couldn’t hold it another minute.

By the time the colonel returned, Theron had busied himself back at the terminal. He caught the movement in the reflection of the monitor and made a mental note of the time. It hadn’t been enough to make more than a quick call, although the question of to who remained. Most of the comm traffic going in and out of Carrick Station was either monitored or secured. If it had been on official channels, there would be a log of it somewhere. Another item for Theron’s ever expanding to-do list once he had the freedom to begin his investigation.

That would be soon.

Not long after Darok had made his reappearance, they’d gotten word from the team on the ground that the battle had been won. Tython was theirs again, but it had come at a high cost. There was cleanup work to be done — major cleanup work. It would take months to repair or rebuild what the bombings had destroyed. To say nothing of the fatalities they were currently tallying. 

That uncomfortable feeling in Theron’s chest was trying to settle back in, and he still didn’t have the time nor energy to spend on it. Part of Theron wished he had an unobstructed view of the temple from the armorcams of Darok’s men, but he still wanted to keep a low profile. From his position, he could only catch glimpses of what was mostly wreckage. Unless he went and joined Darok at the holotable, there was no chance he could look at any of the faces of the dead. Perhaps that was for the best. Outside of Hashimuut, Theron hadn’t spent much time among large groups of Jedi. It had mostly just Master Zho and him. Easier to focus on the larger picture if he didn’t try to individual faces. Or maybe just one face in particular. But he wasn’t thinking about that right now.

Instead he busied himself with sorting through the data that Teeseven fed him. The rest of Highwind’s team had been put to work with the rescue crews, and the little faithful astromech had begun the long arduous process of sifting through the wreckage to try and salvage what was left of the temple’s security footage and data.

If there was anything to salvage at all. Theron pursed his lips, seeing the fragments of code he would have to sort through later. Piecing together exactly what had happened was going to be a massive undertaking. 

That left one last wildcard in this situation: Highwind herself.

Apparently she had ordered Bickell and his men to keep all of the prisoners secured until a team of SIS agents could begin questioning them. Theron found it interesting that she was attempting to direct the investigation work over to his branch rather than leave any interrogation to SpecOps. Perhaps that meant she trusted Theron more than Darok with this. The colonel himself had only grunted with just the barest amount of disgruntlement at the announcement, as if the fate of the prisoners on the ground didn’t matter to him at all. Like he’d already gotten what he wanted.

Theron was still musing on that, and the other little mysteries surrounding his asset when she strode in with all of the force (and Force) of a Jedi to be reckoned with. Her strides were measured and deliberate, setting a quick pace that made her cape billow behind her as she once again commanded the attention of the entire room. Perhaps it was in the stern set of her jaw, or the way her attention zeroed in on Darok. Maybe it was just something in her eyes, a dangerous glint that a less observant person might pick up on. Whatever it was, Theron was almost glad he wasn’t on the receiving end of her attention at the moment. Maybe that was the look that Doc had kept mentioning.

“Master Jedi, good to see you,” Darok said smoothly, standing up to his full height. “Our forces are sweeping the rest of the muck off of Tython as we speak.”

That was the wrong thing to say, apparently, as her brows drew down into an unhappy expression. Yeah, no. Theron wasn’t saving Darok from whatever storm was brewing in the Jedi’s intense gaze. In fact, he would’ve broken out the bangcorn if he’d had any on hand.

“Tell me, Colonel, this muck you speak of. Are you referring to the devastation wrought upon my temple? Or perhaps the people we’ve taken prisoner?”

Darok’s lips pressed into a thin line as his wide shoulders raised up in indignation. He apparently did not like being called out on his behavior. Not that it was the first time that Theron had heard that sort of comment from the military. He was pretty sure that not even the Jedi were so perfect as to keep that sort of sentiment tamped down completely.

For all his bluster, the colonel seemed smart enough to not fall into the trap of clarifying his comment, and instead just snorted out a breath before forcing a grim smile onto his face. “You will be glad to hear that reconstruction crews are already being prepped.”

“That is good news,” she said evenly. “It sounds like you have been busy over here.”

“The Jedi homeworld coming under attack tends to garner a lot of attention from Republic command,” he agreed. “The Imps caught us by surprise, but it could have been a lot worse. Thanks in no small part to your leadership.”

The flattery seemed to fall on deaf ears as Highwind just crossed her arms, fixing the larger man with that same intense stare. “I have been meditating as you suggested, Colonel.”

Confusion stole across Darok’s face, as he tried to recall whenever he’d made that sort of suggestion. “I don’t—”

“You said that after we recovered Tython that I should meditate on the coincidences of today. I spent my time on the journey here doing just that.”

“Have you now?” 

“Yes, on the timing of our attack and the Empire’s. They must have happened almost simultaneously. That is a remarkable coincidence, don’t you think?”

“Maybe you’re right,” Darok rumbled. “For them to launch an assault of this magnitude speaks of a robust intelligence network. Perhaps Imperial Intelligence isn’t quite as devastated as we have been led to believe. I am sure the SIS will determine how we managed to miss so many red flags.”

It was a comment designed to rile Theron. Another mark of a con. Keep the targets off balance. Keep them emotional. Nice try, but he wasn’t falling for it. That said, it didn’t take much to lace a good amount of anger and indignation into his tone. “Yes. We’ll get right on that.”

Highwind’s gaze briefly flicked away from Darok to study Theron, but the action was too quick for him to decipher it.

“All the same,” Darok continued on, “your work has been exemplary — gaining us two back-to-back victories. You are a hero and that deserves recognition.”

“A Jedi does not need to seek recognition. The act of doing what is right is enough.” Stars, she sounded like a recruitment pamphlet. Well. If the Jedi had recruitment pamphlets.

The colonel didn’t seem to hear her, as he pulled out a box that had been delivered during her return flight and held it out as if for inspection. She eyed the box with the same amount of skepticism that Theron had on its arrival, but her lack of enthusiasm didn’t make an impact on the show that Darok was putting on. Without another word, he opened it up to reveal a glinting, ornate medal.

The medal was just shiny and distracting enough that neither of them were paying close enough attention to see Theron’s startled reaction at its appearance. Had that been what Darok had disappeared off to take care of? No. It couldn’t have been. That had happened before Tython had been successfully recovered. That would have meant Darok would have had to arrange for the medal before there was a victory to award it for. Or… or perhaps that was Darok’s cover story. Come to think of it, there hadn’t been any mention of the teams that had remained behind on Korriban. Had they made it out safely? And if they hadn’t, why hadn’t Darok brought it up? Why was he so focused on branding today as a day of victory?

If Theron voiced his thoughts aloud they would sound utterly paranoid. This whole thing would sound paranoid. But no… there was something here. Theron would need to comb through whatever communication logs he could get his hands on to verify.

“This is the medal of valor. One of the Republic’s most prestigious commendations.” Perfect. She could hang it up next her Cross of Glory and whatever other trinkets she’d collected over the course of her overly heroic career. “The Chancellor herself wanted me to present this to you. She was truly impressed with your heroic actions today, just as I am. Congratulations.”

One dark blonde brow arched high as she glanced between Darok and his offering. The colonel continued to hold out the medal and its rather ornate box, and as the moment began to stretch out, the more awkwardness and tension built. Finally, she blew out a breath and accepted the box, shutting the lid without giving its contents a second look.

“My crew, Bickell, and the rest of your men deserve just as much recognition for their work on Tython,” she said, managing to sound almost diplomatic. “Perhaps more.”

“They do,” Darok agreed, “but your name is the one that lights up the HoloNet. Especially considering this particular commendation has never been awarded as quick before.”

A flicker of that shadow appeared in her eyes again, before she successfully smoothed her expression back into that Jedi placidity. “I am more interested in speaking of what happened today than the headline that will lead on RNN tonight.”

“It’s hard to leave an operation,” he rumbled, “we’ve all been there. But your part in this is done now. You should focus on your victory and all the rewards that come with it.”

“I do not need a medal,” she said firmly, “what I need are answers. We need to find the person responsible for what happened today and bring them to justice.”

“We have all of the information you gathered,” Darok’s smooth, complimentary tone began to harden. “I’m sure we’ll be able to identify them soon enough.”

“There’s also the matter of a Sith lord that I spoke to on the holo in the Council’s chambers. I told Bickell about it,” she continued on, as if she hadn’t heard the shift in tone. “Before the Sith realized I was not his compatriot he was talking about a package that had been secured.”

“Maybe they just took the opportunity to grab a few things,” the colonel, his words coming out in a tight clip.

“We need to identify who this Sith is and what he wants. He said something about—”

Now that she was on a roll, Highwind kept going as if she needed to be heard. As she did so, Darok’s frown settled in deeper and deeper. The large man’s shoulders bunched up, big meaty fists settling on his hips while his lips pressed together in a line.

For all of her keen observations and quick thinking in the field, right now Highwind was like a Sibian hound that had caught a scent. So fixated on her goal, the Jedi wasn’t paying attention to her surroundings and appeared to be almost oblivious to the danger practically tingling in the air. Nor did she seem to notice that with each protest she uttered the more predatory the colonel’s expression became. He didn’t seem to like questions. 

Theron took several steps back so that he was out of Darok’s line of sight, before he keyed his subvocal mic. “Stop.”

That seemed to take her off guard, and for a moment she looked like she was about to bring attention to the subterfuge. Her protest ended in a lurch as he gaze strayed over Darok’s shoulder to Theron. He didn’t say anything else, just caught her eye and shook his head ever so slowly. They couldn’t talk here. 

She pursed her lips together, that Jedi calm driven away as her temper flared in a way that Theron had not expected at all. Then again, she kept finding new ways to surprise him. This was just one more to the tally. Thankfully, though, she relented in pressing on in her line of questioning. Frustration evident, she let out an annoyed sigh before turning her attention back to Darok. He was still eyeing her with a sharp intensity that made Theron’s skin crawl.

“I apologize, Colonel, perhaps you are right,” she said tersely, as if it cost her something to say it. “I suppose that there might be some good to be found in today. I should meditate on that further.”

“That is most wise, Master Highwind,” Darok rumbled, continuing to eye her for several long moments. “I have my own work to do. I’ve been tasked with organizing the Tython cleanup.”

She tipped her head to him in acknowledgement. “I see, that is quite the task. I should not keep you from it.”

“I need to let the Jedi Council know the Republic is behind them. Let them know this is not like Coruscant. If you’ll excuse me.” He turned back to the holotable, completely dismissing the remaining two people in the room as if they weren��t even there.

The tension that had filled the room seemed to dissipate with the action, and Theron quietly let out a breath. He would definitely be adding “stubborn and bullheaded” as a note to Highwind’s file, just as a warning to any future handler. Maybe put in a warning or two about her propensity to take dangerous risks. She was still glaring at the colonel’s back with undisguised suspicion at this point.

“I don’t know about you,” he said, managing to pulling her attention away, “but I need that drink.”

He was eager to leave this damn room and put some distance between them and Darok, so Theron didn’t even wait to see if she followed. He just made a beeline for the bar. If she was as quick on the uptake as she seemed, she’d get the hint. 

[castlebay-crossing]

The Villager in Tent Three: Chapter Two

Summary: When Aisling leaves her hometown for the island of Castlebay, as part of Tom Nook’s Deserted Island getaway package, all she expects is sun, sand and plenty of solitude. But when she gets there, not everything is as the brochure said. Secretive villagers, judgemental neighbours, and an antagonistic photographer turn out to be the least of her worries, however, when the mysterious villager in tent three turns up dead one night after a vicious storm that left the only plane off the island grounded. Someone on the island is a murderer. And it’s up to Aisling to work out who it is. Before they come after her, too.

Warning: Major character death, some description of violence

Other Links: Readable on AO3 and FFN.

A/N: Here’s chapter two! I’m trying to move to a once-weekly posting schedule as I’m busy still working on my novel and prepping for Camp Nano. Will try to ensure that Saturdays are my posting days, but I’ll keep you all informed as things go. I’ve also worked out some of the outline so I have a good inkling where the story is going now! I’m super excited to share it with you all! 

.-.-.

March 1st, 2020 – Late Night

When I woke up, it was dark, the radio was silent, and someone was standing outside my tent.

I froze, holding my breath captive. The shadow outside the tent moved slowly, almost imperceptibly so, as if it was standing and waiting for something. I didn’t dare move, as if even the slightest noise or movement would alert the presence outside.  

Whoever – or whatever – was out there was only separated from me by a thin strip of fabric. If they wanted to get in, very little could stop them. I probably wouldn’t even be able to rush past them. I waited, a clammy cold seeping into my limbs. The head of the shadow moved back and forth, slowly, like they were surveying the whole area. I heard the noise of rustling grass, and then the shadow was moving again, passing by the tent. Sweat slid down my back.  A long time passed before I dropped down from the rickety camp bed and opened the tent flap.

It was too dark at first to see properly and my eyes struggled to adjust, so I doubled back and lifted the lamp. Outside, there was nobody around, aside from a light breeze and the distant sound of crashing waves. I circled the tent, looking at the flattened grass, a soft indent in the soggy ground. How long had this person been standing here, outside my tent as I slept? The thought sent a shiver down my spine.

I tried to rationalise it away. I was safe. Nothing bad happened. And there were no rules about people moving around late at night. It could just have been as simple as someone being curious. I wasn’t at home now. I had to remember that people weren’t out to get me at every turn anymore.

Sealing up the tent, I took in lungfuls of cool, crisp air, trying to calm myself down. The Nookphone, still wedged in my pocket, showed 11:24pm. A faint shock registered. How long had I been asleep? I must have been more tired than I thought. Either way, there was no chance of getting back to sleep now. I heaved a sigh. One day on my own and I’d practically reversed my sleep schedule. If this was how I was starting off, how would I manage for the rest of the time I’d be stuck here?

A thought surfaced and I toyed with it. Exercise was good for tiring you out, right? Maybe it wasn’t the best idea to go traipsing around an unknown island in the pitch black when only ten minutes ago some random person had been hanging around outside my tent, but it was a far more attractive option than sitting on an uncomfortable camp bed and staring at the walls. Besides, I didn’t have to go far.

I started to walk. I hadn’t been much impressed with the island as I stepped off the plane, but under the spell of night, it was like an entirely different place.

I had never seen a sky like the one above Castlebay Island that first night. Everything around me seemed to glimmer under the blanket of darkness, dotted with milky speckles that twirled and danced in ancient, fragile patterns. The skyline was almost blue on the horizon, lit with a faint glow. I wanted to smile.

I didn’t know how far – or how long – I walked under the canopy of stars. I didn’t bother with the map on the Nookphone and the lamp dangled uselessly from the crook of my arm. It was bright enough. It was hard to fully shove aside the worries – my old life back home, the stranger outside my tent – but the walk made it easier not to think of them.

Before I knew it, I’d reached the beach at the bottom of the island. The sand was soft and crunched gently under my feet, as fine as spilled sugar, white in the beaming light of the moon. The waves slunk onto the shore and I watched them fall and recede, my mind emptying. For the first time in years, I was alone. I was safe. Nothing from my life back home could touch me. Nothing could harm me.

I stared up to the sky and a smile pulled at my cheeks like the tug of a marionette string. Despite the cold air, I felt warm, like I was sitting by a roaring fire. This place felt nice. Maybe I could get used to it.

Maybe I could be happy here?

It seemed like such a fleeting, silly thing. To hope for happiness when it still seemed so far away, so unattainable. I scuffed the sand with the toe of my shoe, folding it over itself. It wouldn’t hurt to be optimistic, would it? Just once.

I dug both feet into the sand like I was trying to root myself to the earth. Something rattled, a thin, reedy noise against the hiss and crash of the waves. Down at my feet, something brown scuttled from the disturbed sand. A beaded tail that ended in a hooked spike and multiple sets of legs. I barely even recognised what it was before a prick of pain exploded through my lower leg.

As the pain burned, a wave of dizziness uprooted me. I felt light-headed, like the world around me faded and shrunk down to just my own thoughts inside my head. Then, my limbs gave away and I knew no more.

.-.-.

There was light pushing past my eyelids and a voice calling from somewhere far away.

“Hello?  Excuse me, are you alright?”

My eyes fought the impulse to open them, like they had been glued shut. I was cold – yet oddly enough, I felt the heat of warmth on my body. Slowly, my senses returned.

Someone was standing over me. I saw dark wool and purple headband first, then I homed in on a pair of eyes, heavily outlined and thick with mascara. I tried to talk, but the only thing that came out of me was an incoherent mumble.

“Oh! Are you alright?” the voice said.

“I’m fine,” I managed to garble back.  But I wasn’t sure if I was fine. The pain had crept back into my leg, my limbs were stiff and the lamp from my tent lay broken a few feet away. And the biggest surprise of all, it was morning, the horizon a mess of tangerine pinks and soothing lavender.

The sheep – I think – was talking to me. “You’re Aisling, right?”

“I…am?” it came out more of a question at first. “Yes, yes I am.”

The sheep brightened and offered me her paw. “Nice to meet ya! I’m Muffy!” She hauled me to my feet with surprising strength. “I’ve heard all about you!”

“You have?” I didn’t know if that was impressive or worrying. I’d barely been here a full day, and I’d spent most of it asleep. Did news travel that fast around here?

“Though I hoped I’d meet you under better circumstances, nightshade.” Muffy said, tilting her head in concern. “What are you doing lying out here on the beach?”

Hazy memoires from last night clawed at me. I wrung my hands together, feeling foolish. “I had an… encounter… with a scorpion. I think It must have stung me and I passed out…”

Only now did I properly look at the puncture wound at the bottom of my leg. It was small, ragged around the edges, but aside from a noticeable swelling, it didn’t look anywhere near as bad as I thought it would.

Muffy’s already wide eyes bulged. “Are you alright? The varieties here aren’t venomous, but scorpions still have a nasty sting, ya know? Best thing to do if you see one is just to get out of there.”

“Happened too quickly to get away,” I admitted. “I wasn’t exactly expecting a scorpion to come out of nowhere. But yeah, I’ll keep that in mind for next time…”

There was still pain in my leg, enough to make me wince when I put weight on it. I tried not to let it show, but Muffy brought herself up to her full height (she still barely came up to my chest) and slid her stubby arm through mine.

“We should get you over to Nook’s Cranny, nightshade! They don’t have much cos they’re waiting on a delivery, but I’m sure I saw some medicine hiding in one of the cabinets.”

I couldn’t protest – or even think of protesting – as she gripped my arm tighter and took off, leading me in a sort of half-drag, half-stumble up the beach. Where was she taking me? Nook’s Cranny? I hadn’t seen a Nook’s Cranny on the island map when I’d checked yesterday. What kind of place was it? The island, although bigger than I’d first thought, still seemed too small and too underpopulated to have any sort of medical facilities.

Muffy chatted animatedly as we staggered up the beach and emerged back into the grassland. She knew the area well, not even so much as glancing at a map or the Nookphone, whereas I’d probably have been hopelessly lost after seconds. She told me all about the things available to do on the islands and I listened only out of politeness and obligation, but I pricked up when she told me she’d moved here, two weeks ago, alongside Bill and Ross.

I hadn’t seen the name Ross on the map. “Who’s Ross?”

Muffy screwed her face up. “Oh, nightshade! I forget I wasn’t supposed to mention.”

I looked at her inquiringly. “Mention what?”

She chewed her lip then shrugged her shoulders. “I suppose it wouldn’t do much harm to tell you. Well, Ross is the other villager who lives here. He’s like you, a human.”

“Is he the one that lives in tent three?”

“That’s him, yes. But…” she paused to let me clamber over an errant branch. “I don’t think he likes company. He doesn’t leave his house and he never seems to want to talk to anyone.”

I frowned. “So, he just stays inside all the time?”

She considered for a moment. “Not all the time. I mean, he must go out for food and to sell things. I think he goes out late. His tent is up on the hill above mine, and I stay up late, you know, so sometimes I still see his lights on when I go to bed.”

We hobbled forward for a few more paces. Something shouldered its way to the front of my mind. The figure outside my tent, late last night.

I fought to keep my voice casual. “You said Ross goes out late at night, right?”

“Well, I think he does. Couldn’t say with absolute certainty, nightshade!”

“Does anyone else?”

“I like a late night, but I’m normally wrapped up all cosy, nightshade!” she trilled. “Bill’s an early morning riser, he likes to go jogging first thing. He gets up at the crack of dawn! How anyone can get up that early is beyond me, nightshade. I don’t know about the other new neighbour.” She smiled, but then her face creased. “Why are you asking, nightshade?”

“It… it doesn’t matter,” I said curtly.

Muffy looked confused but didn’t pursue it. Together, we continued along the island, down a path that ran parallel to a river. The river was clear, the water opaque, curving into the distance like a sleeping cobra. The flowers that lined the banks teemed with life; butterflies roamed between flowers; bees drifted on the wind. Everything felt peaceful. That is, everything apart from the drumming of my heart and the gnawing thoughts in my head.

A blue roof stood out painfully against the green of the island.  Framed by trees laden down by fat, shiny cherries, the corrugated roof boasted “Nook’s Cranny”, but the building itself was pitifully small and surrounded by loose fencing. To my surprise, Muffy had brought me to a shop.

I hadn’t expected a shop. Though, realistically, how could a community function without one? And there was one other problem. I didn’t have any money. Certainly not the money used here. Bells, I think they were called.

When I sheepishly voiced this to Muffy, she waved me away with her paw. “Don’t be silly, nightshade, I know you’ve only just got here! I bet you’ve no tools or anything, have you? I’ll get this and you can owe me one, okay?”

I agreed, feeling a rush of gratitude towards this perfect stranger. I waited outside when she went in, on the excuse I wanted to rest my leg, but really, I felt too awkward to stand there while things were bought for me. Her voice buzzed from behind the walls. I couldn’t be sure, but it sounded like she had slipped back into Animalese. Another stark reminder that this was a very different place than where I came from.

Propping myself up on one of the fence posts, I stuck my leg out to see how it was shaping up. No visible difference but the wound was starting to itch, and I hoped Muffy wouldn’t be too long. I scratched it absent-mindedly, wincing at the sharp slivers of pain that went along with it.

I looked towards the scrap of woodland ahead of us, wanting to pick out something else to focus on, and my breath stopped in my throat.

Directly opposite from me, hidden by the fringe of leaves and a few clumps of grass, there was a dark figure. Eyes shadowed beneath the forehead, hair lying loose like rats’ tails on either side of the face. Icy fingers of fear pressed up my spine, but I couldn’t look away. And I found myself staring at the small, quiet mouth as it curled into a smile.

I clapped a hand over my mouth to stop the scream. But then the door of Nook’s Cranny swung open and Muffy was back, and when I looked towards the trees, the figure was gone. Muffy’s face crumpled in concern, but she hadn’t seen it.

“What’s wrong? You look like you’ve seen a ghost, nightshade.”

“It’s… it’s nothing. I just thought I saw…”

But what had I seen? Could it have been Morgan, out looking for something to photograph and hidden in the darkness of the trees to get a clearer shot? Could it have been Bill? I didn’t know what he looked like after, all. Or maybe one of the shopkeepers or airport staff? I didn’t know. I couldn’t tell from that sort of distance. All I did know was that the image of that small smile still flashed in my mind, like the lingering exposure from a camera shot.

I thought of the figure outside the tent and held my breath.

Was it possible they could be the same person?

[theonceoverthinker]

Wouldn’t Have It Any Other Way (Tiana/Naveen)

Summary: As Tiana and Naveen work the catering job of a lifetime -- for any place other than Storybrooke, that is -- they reflect on how much they appreciate each other. And maybe, a spark or two flies for their long overdue romance in the process.

AO3    Fanfiction.net

Dynamics Featured: Tiana/Naveen, Captain Swan (Mentioned, but don’t appear), OG Killian and Tiana, OG Killian and Naveen

So, for my 300 follower spectacular, the lovely @daeneryssansa requested either a Tiana/Naveen fic or a CS surprise party fic. Of course, being me, I decided not to just settle for doing one of those suggestions like a normal person, but to do both of them at the same time because I’m freakin’ insane!! Sound fun? I think so, but I’m a bit of a madwoman, so who am I to say for sure? Either way, as always, I hope you enjoy!

()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()

If there was one thing the former Prince Naveen of Maldonia could never see himself tiring of, it was the smell of hot food as it wafted through the air. Ever since he was a child, he found the smell of a baking oven or cooking vegetables to be a source of coziness that was all but unrivaled. Sneaking biscuits with his brother was one of his favorite pastimes and big banquets in their castle allowed for reunions with friends and family alike.

Yes, the enjoyment of food was something Naveen dearly loved.

And relatively recently, he found that the making of that food was something he quite enjoyed as well, especially with good company.

Speaking of...

“I love these Hooks,” Tiana said, stretching her arms above her head after placing a tin tray full of beignets inside the oven. “Between the one whose entire family makes it their goal to bring their co-workers by the Bayou and the one who now gets his catering from us, we never have to worry about hiring a marketing department.”

“You’re definitely not wrong about that. They are quite the patrons,” Naveen said. He looked to Tiana’s side and was amazed at the 25 trays they had filled up with all manner of Cajun delicacies and desserts, a testament to how much work they’d completed thus far. “You’d think we were in charge of feeding the whole town with the storm we’re cooking up here.”

“It’s Storybrooke,” Tiana remarked. “You know we basically are.”

“Does everyone around here always go to everything?”

“According to Killian, yes.”

Naveen sighed, exhausted at just that prospect. “My God. I feel like we’ve been cooking for a year.”

Tiana snickered, and Naveen was happy to hear that at least one of them still had spunk to spare.

“It’s been nine hours,” Tiana specified. Naveen groaned. They’d pulled an all nighter to prepare this catering job, and time was showing itself as to just how much of a toll that it now could take on his body, especially since Ella had to drop out at the last minute to care for a sick Henry and Lucy. What were the odds?

“Besides,” she continued, “we’re more than halfway done and well ahead of schedule, so that’s good! If we keep on working, we’ll be done by this afternoon and be right on time for Killian’s surprise party.”

How Tiana not only managed to be so chipper, but so organized so early in the morning was what Naveen found to be one of her best qualities.

That said, for someone far more lax, such as himself, it set a standard that he had no shame admitting he couldn’t meet so easily. “You know, Tiana,” he stated, “there such a thing as too much hard work.”

“Says who?” Tiana shot back.

“Says the bags under our eyes.”

Tiana chuckled at the half-nag. “Fair enough,” she relented. “Let’s take five.”

Naveen sat down on the kitchen table in Tiana’s apartment and wiped a row of beads of sweat from his forehead. While normally, they’d be doing most of their work at The Rolling Bayou, the volume of their current order required much more cooking space than their truck could provide.

It was an admittedly welcome change of pace from the stuffier confines of The Rolling Bayou for Naveen. It’s not like he didn’t like the truck -- he certainly did, but it was so nice to have some real space to work in and be able to sit down every once in a while on a real chair and not just some metal steps, especially given the scope of their current project.

For a moment, he mused on that project.

“He’s crazy about her,” Naveen remarked, looking at the literal mountain of beignets they’d prepared thus far. “Not only does he want to throw Emma a surprise party, but he’s inviting the entire town.”

“Some people will do a lot for love,” Tiana cosigned.

“Would you ever like a party like that thrown for you?”

Tiana shrugged. “I don’t know. I grew up a princess in a castle. I had plenty of parties thrown for me. I think my ideal birthday would be a night in, doing a bit of cooking.”

“Like we are now?” Naveen pointed out. While Tiana didn’t answer his question, she didn’t frown at him either as she playfully rolled her eyes. He decided not to push it and moved on. “I’ve also got to admit that guy’s money. If being a deputy makes you enough to throw a party like this without batting an eye, then I might need to give you my two weeks notice.”

Tiana smirked, clearly taking that possibility with a Rolling Bayou-sized grain of salt. “To be fair,” she said, “he did pay in dubloons, so I don’t know if he’s making all that much as a deputy. So, I guess you’re stuck here for now.”

Naveen returned the gesture and added in an eyebrow wiggle that had Tiana blushing. “Hardly a bad place to be.” They stared into each other’s eyes a bit. There was so much light and life in Tiana’s eyes, even so early in the morning. He could never summarize them as hard or soft, but at the same time, they were so expressive. And that’s what made them such a fun challenge to follow around. Tiana wasn’t so much a mystery as much as someone who even if he had an idea of what she was going to do or say, he wanted to see it play out all the same.

The last six months had largely given him that. Now free of Dr. Facilier’s control, he and Tiana were free to get to know each other. And that they did. To say their livelihoods merged would be an understatement. Not only did they still work together, but Naveen, still not admittedly ready for leadership, merged his kingdom with Tiana’s, much to the warm reception of his parents. It turned out that the three of them had gotten close and protected each others kingdoms in the wake of his absence, and Naveen couldn’t be happier about that, especially when it was clear that their hopes for the two of them were more than just a political merger.

Naveen couldn’t blame them -- he had honestly hoped for it too, and he had a feeling Tiana might as well. But he knew regaining her throne and then adapting to life in the merged realms and adjusting herself to her role in the Council of Realms was a lot to deal with, so he held off on voicing those feelings since the curse broke. If he knew anything about his lovely friend for sure -- and he did -- it was that she didn’t like to be overwhelmed. And it was fine with him -- more than fine. They worked together most every day and throughout that time, they’d only gotten to know each other better.

Which is why it wasn’t too much of a surprise when he saw Tiana -- while still on the break she herself proclaimed -- reaching for a bag of flour and a carton of eggs she’d no doubt use for her next batch of beignets.

“Lady Tiana!” he said with mock scandalization. “Are you breaking your own decree for a break?”

Tiana looked at him, pointed, but clearly not too annoyed. If anything, she looked a bit embarrassed.

Clearly defensive in the wake of getting caught, she held up a finger and attempted to dismiss him. “There’s nothing wrong with doing a little bit of prepping.”

Naveen shot her his own pointed look, albeit more tired and amused than anything.

“Tiana,” he said, getting up. “You are going to work yourself to an early grave.” His tone wasn’t so much overly concerned as it was tongue-and-cheek nagging. When he reached her, he got behind her and gently placed his hands on her shoulders. “We’ll get this done on time,” he assured her, allowing himself to be serious. “It’s like you said, we’re way ahead of schedule. A little break never hurt anyone.”

Sighing, Tiana loosened up. Naveen could feel the tension leave her shoulders.

“I know you’re right,” Tiana said, turning to face him. “It’s just...you know me. You know I’m-”

“Demanding?” he inquired cheekily. Tiana’s eyes bulged. “Pedantic?” Then her jaw slackened. “An overachiever?” Then she looked like she was going to retort, but he beat her to it. “A stickler?” Obviously realizing his pattern, Tiana shot him an exasperated look.  “Have a tendency to nitpick?” he offered, barely holding back his own laughter as he shrugged.

Tiana seemed to be reaching for a rebuttal, but seemed just as unable to know where to start.

And once again, Naveen beat her to one.

“But hey,” he said, his hand reaching for her shoulder once more as she stood there still dumbstruck. “That’s why I love you.” And then he winked.

That seemed to snap Tiana out of her trance and with a wicked grin, she paid Naveen’s words in kind with a playful, yet still hard, slap to his chest.

“Ow!” Naveen howled in semi-fake pain. “Well, we’ll at least be done especially fast if you beat those eggs like you just beat my chest.”

“You got that right,” she teased. “And by the way, I was gonna say ‘a perfectionist.’ Now come on, let’s get back to cooking.” Despite the fact that they barely spent any of their break actually relaxing, Naveen smiled as he followed her lead without question.

Yes, Tiana was indeed a perfectionist.

And Naveen knew he wouldn’t have it any other way.

()()()()()()()()()()()()()

“So where is this party supposed to happen again?” Naveen said as he loaded some more powdered sugar into his shaker.

Tiana couldn’t help her smile as she gazed at the disaster before her. Not a pinch of sugar had made its way into the shaker yet, and you wouldn’t know that Naveen was even aiming for it by looking at his clothes. His shirt was positively caked in the stuff -- no pun intended...okay, maybe a little intended.

Naveen, either oblivious to his appearance or in spite of it -- both were equally likely knowing him -- gave her a seductive glance. “You like what you see?”

“Well,” Tiana pondered, still grinning. “You are pretty sweet looking, but that sugar’s not cheap, so don’t candy coat yourself just yet. Do you need some help over there?”

While Naveen looked like he was about to dismiss her held, suddenly, the bag in his hand missed the shaker once more and what Tiana approximated was at least another two cups fell all over him. When he stepped back from his workstation, his clothes looked as white as a Stormtrooper’s uniform.

“Yes, please,” Naveen answered, deadpan in his delivery. She could tell that while he asked guiltily, it wasn’t shamefully, and Tiana appreciated that about him. He knew she was the boss and while he wanted to get better, he also knew better than to deny himself her help when he was outmatched in favor of something as relatively useless as pride.

And that was something that she really liked about Naveen. Naveen was cocky, but never too prideful. He’d talk a big game but just as easily know when to fold for the sake of others. To do that required a unique kind of heart, one Tiana was happy to have in her life. It made the days less boring, but let her feel safe too -- again, a combination that was hard to pull off, but Naveen balanced flawlessly.

“Okay, let me show you how to do this so that my floors and your wardrobe can be spared any further drama.” She took the shaker off of the counter. “This shaker is only for the powdered sugar -- I even labeled it -- so you can just scoop it directly from the bag.” To prove it, she did just that before emptying it once more. “Wanna give it a try now?” It was a simple process, and one he probably should’ve been able to figure out himself, but given that they’d been working for about eleven hours, she could hardly blame the exhaustion from getting to him a bit.

Naveen smiled. “After such a good lesson, how could I not?” And then he did it without a single issue. Honestly, she had no idea how Naveen’s cursed counterpart could have flunked out of culinary school. Naveen took to lessons, even her more intricate ones, like a duck to water and internalized everything he was taught.

Or maybe, it was just a matter of how he was taught. Tiana’s cursed memories of culinary school did paint their professors as...lacking. Despite their prestige, their teaching styles were more in making students read as opposed to doing any direct kitchen work more of the time, and Naveen was someone who learned best by example. Even Tiana only remembered Sabine getting by because she took great care to do supplementary research, practice recipes and concepts regularly, and attend cooking seminars.

But over the past six months, every time Tiana walked through some new recipe or mistake he made step-by-step with Naveen, he grasped it immediately and never needed to be told it again. And that allowed him to make better cooking decisions and even help Tiana out with some ideas of her own every now and then.

Who could’ve guessed that he’d end up being so talented in a kitchen?

Naveen really did have an interesting brain -- one Tiana liked being around and learning about more and more with each passing day.

“Tiana, you didn’t answer my question from earlier -- where is Killian holding Emma’s surprise party?”

Now Tiana remembered.

“Oh yeah. He’s holding it on his ship -- the Jolly Roger.”

“That sounds like quite the party! A big party boat, some Cajun cooking -- sounds like Mardis Gras!”

“It really does. But don’t let Killian hear you call his ship a boat -- his counterpart doesn’t like that and I’m willing to bet that he likes it even less.”

Naveen raised his hands in mock surrender. “Fair enough. Getting arrested by one of them was more than enough of their bad sides for me. Still, it makes you think.”

Tiana raised an eyebrow, confused. “Really? I thought you guys were friends now.”

“Not about Killian -- about Mardis Gras. Don’t you remember how we -- Drew and Sabine -- used to talk about where they wanted to travel? Didn’t we say New Orleans was on that list and that we’d go around Mardis Gras?”

The feeling of recollection hit Tiana fast. “Yeah!” she said. “We said we’d get all dressed up for the parade, buy some masks from one of the local markets, and go on a food tour!” Tiana instinctually moaned at the idea of having some of the most authentic Cajun food in the world.

She might never want to leave.

“You know,” Drew said. “We can go wherever we want now. Once things calm down a bit more -- maybe we could take a vacation there.”

Tiana grinned. It definitely would be an amazing experience, and one of the good things about the merging of the realms was that there were plenty of rulers to have her back if she wanted to take Naveen up on his offer -- including her mom and his parents.

Maybe...it would certainly take a while before it could happen, but maybe in a year or two...they could actually go…

“I’d like that,” she said, content in the bit of finality that she gave her words. From less than five feet away, Naveen smiled at her. She could sense some surprise in his eyes. “What?” she asked, a mix of confusion and amusement that bordered far more on the latter clear in her voice.

Naveen put his hand on her shoulder. “I’m just surprised you agreed so easily.”

“You make me sound like a total buzzkill!”

“To be fair, before we met, you kind of came off as one.” Once again, Tiana retaliated with a smack to his stomach. But to his credit, he did have a point. Since that first chance encounter with Naveen, Tiana knew she’d mellowed out a lot. She’d grown more trusting and more willing to give herself a break from time to time. And while part of her wanted to claim that it wasn’t so true, as she thought on her life, she knew it was a change for the better. Relaxing a bit more had made her a better ruler and helped her to be both more realistic and more cautiously ambitious with her goals, especially since she put more faith in others now to help her achieve her goals.

“Careful, Lady Tiana!” Naveen said, his goofy smile so much wider now. “I can hardly go on that food tour with you if I’m internally bleeding from my stomach.”

Absentmindedly, Tiana shook her head before gesturing the two of them to get back to work. “No, I guess I’ll keep you in in shape for a while.”

And Tiana knew she wouldn’t have it any other way.

()()()()()()()()()()()()()

Naveen, whenever possible, cooked to music.

Music had its advantages. It attracted business, it made the work day feel shorter, and it allowed him to dance.

So when an upbeat party song came on, especially after the string of more lowkey numbers that made up most of their thirteen hours of work, Naveen wasted not time getting into his groove.

As he started to dance, Naveen rhythmically stepped back from his own workstation and towards Tiana’s, albeit with work being the very last thing on his mind.

“Dance with me, Tiana!”

He could already see Tiana’s hips swaying as he moved to hold her hand.

Tiana laughed and gravitated towards Naveen as he gently pulled her towards him.

“Well, I do love this song.” She winked. “And I guess my partner can probably keep up with me.”

“Oh I’ll do better than that!”

With that, Naveen spun her. He watched Tiana’s feet navigate their way through the spin. She was mostly on her toes and at one point, she even popped her foot. It reminded him a bit of a ballet dancer and made her moves all the more interesting to view.

“You are quite the dancer, Lady Tiana.”

Tiana giggled at the mention of Naveen’s nickname. It was a change that had happened quite gradually, but one Naven was happy to see. While Tiana initially snarked at her title being used as her nickname, she seemed fine accepting it as a running joke between them. But now, he could tell that when he said it, she liked it quite a lot.

Yes, Naveen took pleasure in his innate ability to endear himself -- and his nicknames -- to anyone with enough time.

When the spin was complete, she came back to him, their chests nearly touching while they held each other in their arms. “And you’re a pretty good partner, Lord Naveen.”

“Looks like someone’s got jokes. Nice nickname, my little rip off artist,” he commented, smirking.

“You know what they say: Imitation is the sincerest form of flattery.” Tiana winked as the song came to an end.

Naveen snorted. “Well, consider me flattered.”

Suddenly, a nice easy listening number started up. A piano track began to play out, accompanying a smooth ballad sung by a talented woman.

Naveen drifted a bit closer to Tiana and smiled. “What do you say? One more dance?”

Tiana smiled right back. “You got it.”

And so, arms cradling each other, the two of them started to gently sway to the music. Naveen stared at Tiana. All around her was evidence of their crazy amounts of work. Bits of batter clung to her apron and sleeves and bits of powdered sugar from their earlier debacle were splattered across her hair.

In Naveen’s opinion, she had never looked more beautiful.

More than anything, he wanted her to know that.

Taking a deep breath, Naveen dared to lower his face so that it was a bit closer to Tiana’s. If Tiana had any objections, she didn’t give them voice.

In fact, she brought her face a bit closer to his.

Naveen questioned what he should do. This was one hell of a moment to make a move, but he felt he was ready, and maybe, she was too.

Well, there was only one way to find out.

With a gust of caution thrown into the wind, Naveen moved that last bit closer and kissed Tiana.

There was an immediate surge of relief as Naveen felt the impression of Tiana’s lips pressing against his.

She was really kissing him back, and he could feel her lips tugging in the direction of a smile.

With breath as baited as the circumstances would allow, he dared to sift his hand through her hair and bring her closer to him. For his efforts, he was quickly rewarded with a similar action done to him.

They didn’t kiss for too long before they pulled back for air, but they were both smiling when they emerged from the embrace.

Naveen laughed. “Well, it’s nice to have that settled.”

“I was wondering when you were gonna do that.”

“I’ve got to keep my favorite Lady guessing, don’t I?”

Laughing her own intoxicating laugh, Tiana brought Naveen in for another kiss, and that and the series of kissed that followed lasted through this song and the next and the next.

And Naveen felt comfortable saying that neither of them particularly minded.

After all, they were ahead of schedule, right?

()()()()()()()()()()()()()

Tiana chuckled as Killian looked at the fully stocked trunk of The Rolling Bayou. It always amused her just how much less familiar this Killian was with the culinary scene compared to the Killian she bonded with back in the Heights. He was so fascinated by the working of her food truck and took generously large breaths as he inhaled the smells of her food.

“So what do you think?” Naveen said, emerging from the driver’s seat of the truck. “Do you think Emma will like it?”

Killian beamed as his vision went up and down the truck’s stuffed trunk for what was likely the fourth time since they met up. “She’s going to love it! I can’t thank you enough, though I hope your payment and this extra tip is at least a start.”

Tiana eyed the new bag of dubloons perched in her hand, stifling her salivation at the bag’s weight. What did she and Naveen say about those Hooks again? “Our payment is perfect. You’re more than welcome, Killian,” Tiana said as the two of them eagerly shook hands.

“I hope this didn’t do too much to hinder your sleep schedules.”

“Oh, it did,” Naveen interjected. “Sixteen hours of work will do that to you.” As if on cue, both Tiana and Naveen yawned. “But,” he continued, looping an arm around Tiana, “it was well worth the trouble.”

“I see more than just my own romance is in the air,” Killian commented, smiling at the two of them while Tiana took Naveen’s looped around hand into her own. “Glad to see you two finally got together, though I do wish it was under less sleep deprived circumstances.”

“Don’t worry about it Killian,” Tiana waved off, looking up and smiling at Naveen. His expression informed what Tiana already had a strong feeling was true. “I promise you that we wouldn’t have it any other way.”

[limbobimbos]

✨ — SISTER, SISTER. ╱ DRABBLE.

suitcases sit by the front door as both girls find their spot for the evening at the kitchen table. unpacking could come later, a task Rory will inevitably help her older sister with, but her version of helping is sitting in a pile of her things - figuring out with items of clothing she plans on stealing the second Lilah’s back is turned. “what’s new?” she asks, tone bubbly and bright, avoiding the obvious elephant in the room - their mother’s sudden relapse. alcoholism ruled their teenage years and despite having little control over Clara’s addiction, the girls found comfort in their shared company. now, Rory couldn’t find the sadness that occupied her mind earlier that day. her sister’s presence seemed to wash it all away - at least, for the time being. “not much, i don’t think…” clicking her tongue against the roof of her mouth in thought, Rory moved her way around the kitchen, gesturing with her chin towards the table. she figured they’d start there, drink some cocoa and retreat into the living room for a movie night. despite being so different, they could almost always agree on what to watch. “oh, duh - how could i forget? ma got me a job at the hospital, in the morgue and originally, i wanted -" cutting her off, Lilah's eyes widen in disbelief. "ew! what?" gaze falls along the curve of her sister's face and the girl's expression draws a laugh from her lips. she's disgusted, the same features twisting in a way their mother's had when Rory pitched the idea for her chosen career path. Rory, however, assumed it was because it was so drastically different than her childhood dream of becoming an actress, just like her aunt. somewhere along the way, her interests had changed - and now, it had been months since the pair had really spoken. changes had happened the first day Rory and her mother arrived in Limbo - and while the circumstances weren't ideal, Rory was happy to have her sister back within arm's reach. “Aurora Lyn," she begins, voice laced with concern and disapproval, immediately bringing another laugh to the surface. the time apart forced the blonde to forget just how maternal Delilah was towards her. the tone she uses for her name is reminiscent of her mother's and she'd be lying if she said she hadn't missed it. "finish your thought," she ushers, slender fingers wrapping around the two cups of cocoa she finished prepping ( complete with marshmallows ) and she joins her at the table, sitting comfortably with one leg tucked up underneath her. "i," Lilah starts again, nose scrunching as she struggles to process it. her thoughts seem to have been interrupted by the cocoa, bubblegum pink nails quickly encircling the mug in her grasp. “gross. ew, why… the morgue? is there - do i even want to know?” she asks her, and Rory can’t help the signature eye-roll that storms over her features. to her, she's helping people. fixing them for their final send-off. to her, it’s almost poetic. her stare stays fixed on the pink nails against the muted ceramics, and suddenly, they’re not the brightest thing in her line of vision. a diamond interrupts her concentration. the ring causes Rory’s blonde brows to peak upwards in question - it sports a rock bigger than she's ever seen and just like her mother would, her dramatic gesture of pretending to be blinded by it earns a laugh from her sister. “does… mom know you're engaged?” she asks, but the answer is already clear. if Rory didn’t know, Clara didn’t, either. "does mom know you play with dead things?" she retaliates, tone sharp but still laced generously with jest. she talks as if it's new, as if Rory hasn't been trying to nurse things back to life since early childhood. "can you honestly say you're surprised? our backyard back home is a cemetery full of dead animals that i thought deserved a proper burial." a visible shudder rolls along her sister's shoulders and before she takes another sip from her own cup, her eyebrows raise in feigned suspicion. "i just thought you were like, i don’t know, a serial killer or somethin' - and no, i guess i was waiting to tell her." "why?" Lilah shrugs - and Rory already knows why. she's unsure if their mom even knew Delilah was dating someone, springing an engagement on her out of nowhere might upset her. most things did. being away from Lilah wasn’t only hard on Rory, but Clara refused to talk about the emptiness she obviously felt. it came out in other ways. ‘the house is quiet’ or ‘it was nicer when both of my girls were here’. the picture frames that littered the hallway didn’t do much to keep her restless heart at peace. “it’ll be alright, i bet she’ll be excited. probably propose a toast and all that.” she offers some reassurance, even if she’s not entirely sure if she’s being honest. shifting in her chair, Lilah’s composure changes. her grin borders mischievous when she asks, “what are the guys like here?” instead of an actual answer, Rory laughs. it’s a signal to shut up about her sister’s soon-to-be husband, and she bookmarks the topic for a later time. blonde curls frame her face as she shakes her head, laugh trailing off into a quiet sigh. “not bad - and hey, knowing you’re off the market helps my chances with someone here.” Lilah snorts, another trait inherited from their mother, a trait that Rory ( and most people ) finds endearing. “i’m not off the market until the day i say ‘i do’, so don’t try to bury me just yet, even if it is your job.” the girls share another quiet chuckle and once it comes to a solid halt, silence falls around them. now is as good of a time as any to address the real matter at hand, even if she doesn’t particularly want to. “it’s different this time,” Rory speaks suddenly, eyes fixed on the contents of her cup. wavy motions with her hands cause the liquid to stir, eyes following its movements. “she’s happier, it’s not…” trailing off, Rory shrugs, trying to make light of the topic. “it’s just not as bad.” all the younger girl knows is that their mother’s attitude has changed. sober or not, she’s brighter in Limbo than Rory had ever seen in Boston - something was different, she just isn’t sure what. it had suddenly become difficult for Rory to resent her mom the way she had as a child. drinking had been done in small doses and rarely alone - but she already knew the conditions didn't matter to her older sister. “Rory, she’s a drunk. it’s always gonna’ be bad, and you have to stop makin’ excuses for her.” the blonde nods quietly, even though she disagrees. their first night together isn’t going to be spent fighting, even if Rory knows better - even if her gut reaction is to defend their mother. "fair enough," she says, knowing that phrase is a kinder way to say that they'll just have to agree to disagree. “i’ll try.”

@livinlavidalimbo

[ikesenhell]

The Well

The Measurement of Time: Chapter 5. You can find all other IkeSen works of mine here. NOTES:  This was a LiveWrite! Thank you all so much! ALSO: This whole story does not make much sense without the context from To Honor And Protect! Please go back and read that before you proceed with TMOT. Tagging @ikemenprincessnaga at request. Y’all, I am so attached to Toyotomi-Akechi. I love her. She is my child now. 

Sasuke spent most of the next morning in the library, parsing through book after book. After his second shared dreaming experience with Uesugi, he was deeply interested in the data points behind it. Had anyone done a really good, thorough research paper into the topic? It seemed not. That was frustrating. Then again, how could one devise a really proper scientific method to study it?

Mildly put out (only mildly, because that was how the pursuit of knowledge worked--sometimes one needed to recognize a gap in understanding before one could fix it), he returned to the barracks with a few books and settled in at the breakfast table. Tokugawa burst in through the door and shot him a grin.

“Afternoon! Where’ve you been?”

Sasuke really could see a lot of the fabled Masamune Date in Tokugawa’s mannerisms. Historically speaking, it seemed funny. “At the library. I’m doing a bit of light reading.”

A slender hand emerged behind him and peeled a book out from under his stack. Miss Takeda flopped onto the table, a sweet bun in one hand and a grin splitting her cheeks. “This isn’t any ‘light reading’. Do you do math for fun, too?”

Sasuke didn’t know how to respond to that. “Long division could be comforting, I suppose. I rather like going over results from scientific studies.”

Tokugawa snapped his fingers. “You know who you should talk to? They like that stuff, too--”

“Don’t bother yelling. I’m here.” Another woman emerged in the doorway, stretching in her armor. She had sleepy citrine eyes and light brown hair, her hands long and slender. At her waist, two symbols of her house hung: Akechi and Toyotomi. “You’re the new kid.”

“That would be me, yes.” Sasuke thought to stand and bow to her. “Toyotomi-Akechi?”

“Mhm.” She didn’t say much, just skated smoothly across the floor and peeled the book from Takeda’s hands. “Don’t take people’s things.”

“Awww. Don’t kill the vibe.”

But Toyotomi-Akechi fixed Takeda with such a sinister, knowing smile that Sasuke’s unspoken questions faded away. Ah. There was the legendary Akechi smile. The woman flipped the book open. “What are you researching?”

“Shared dreaming.”

“Hm.” If there were questions (and there were, judging by the confused expressions from Tokugawa and Takeda), she didn’t ask them. She just snapped it shut and handed the book back over. “Alright then. I’ll take a bit of looking into the subject myself.”

Sasuke was ready to push half of the books in her direction, but she just shot him a wink and sailed out the door into the backyard. Tokugawa shrugged. “I don’t know where she gets any of her information, but she’s good. I’d just let her do her thing.”

“Fair enough.”

The door opened again, Uesugi standing with her hand on hilt. “Sarutobi.”

“Yes, ma’am?” He’d never called her ma’am before, but it felt impolite not to at this point. Tokugawa choked back a laugh.

“Time for training again.”

“Got it.”

She scowled at Takeda and Tokugawa, who were both stifling laughter. “And you two, while we’re at it.”

“Good luck, Tokugawa!” Takeda vaulted off the table and sprinted out the door with unexpected speed. “Sorry for abandoning you!”

“No you aren’t!”

Uesugi stood, gazing off into space as if a silent audience there saw and understood her struggle. At last, she sighed. “You two, come on. With me.”

---

The dreams didn’t stop.

For the next week, he had a disjointed series of them parade through his unconscious mind. A stone wall, crumbling inward--dark, stately hallways--the faint orange glow of a string of lights, illuminating in patches against columns--quiet whirring of something mechanical--

What was going on?

He asked Uesugi about the first two. Of course she’d had them too. Afterward, they didn’t even talk about it anymore. He would come down into the kitchen at early hours to see her prepping some tea, they’d nod at each other in quiet understanding, and she’d pass him the mug she’d fixed up just for him.

“We should probably notify the Queen,” she remarked once, her smooth voice a thread in the tapestry of morning sounds. As much as the Ishida family line laid claim to being affiliated with the ocean, he couldn’t help but look at Uesugi and think of the sea, too. Uesugi with her ocean eyes of blue and green, her white-blonde sandswept hair, the sharp and soft and angular and rolling parts of her that shaped like the crash of a wave. “She’d want to hear about this.”

“I don’t know that it is entirely of interest yet, aside from being scientifically curious.”

But Uesugi laughed ever so lightly. “I’m pretty sure her whole family line is ‘scientifically curious’. If anything odd is afoot in this city, I’ve little doubt that the Queen would know better than either of us if these dreams are some kind of a portent.”

Admittedly, Sasuke was nervous for other reasons. He still felt that misplaced crush on her Highness. It simmered in him the same way all his favorite questions did. In some ways that felt inappropriate; like a conflict of interest during research, twisting the results ever so slightly in the tester’s favor. It was a ridiculous thought, but he still couldn’t shake it.

Uesugi arranged the meeting regardless. The day of, someone hammered against his door early in the morning.

“Hey there, sleepy!” Tokugawa laughed at Sasuke’s fatigued expression. “Hope you slept well. Uesugi told me to grab this for you.”

“What is it?”

“If you’re in care of us, you have to look like it.” And with that, Tokugawa set a bundle in his arms, shooting him a wink. “Get changed. Your appointment with the Queen is in two hours.”

Confused and curious, Sasuke unrolled it on his bed. Out came a blue and silver uniform. Emblazoned on the chest in shimmering white-blue was the crest of the Nine.

---

The throne room was an informal affair. At the farthest end, a massive window opened out to the ocean, the swirl of waves and distant storms the perennial backdrop of the City. The jet tiles were polished so bright they shone, and at the center, near the wall, was a massive, round, obsidian table. Several stately chairs sat around it.

“Welcome.” The Queen stood as they entered, her sweet smile at home against the waves. “Uesugi. Sarutobi.”

“Your Highness.” Uesugi clasped her fist to her chest and bowed deeply. Sasuke followed suit less gracefully. “We came to talk to you about an odd situation that we find ourselves in. I think it might be something of interest to you.”

She listened with a frown as they laid out the situation: the dreams, their contents, the connected nature of them. After a moment she stood and circled around her seat, pacing by the glass wall.

“My grandfather and grandmother had a very interesting bond,” she noted finally. “They were notable in that not many people in the history of magic--the history we know of, mind you--can both share the same staff.”

“Of course.” Sasuke commented. “Most magic users report that their staves won’t interact well with others. They state that there is odd sparking, resistance, backfiring…”

“Correct.” The Queen motioned to him. “I know your prior employment was involved in studying that. I don’t think your team pinpointed the causes of it?”

“Not yet. We are still formulating theories.”

“It takes time.” She paused. “My point is that it wasn’t just two people using that staff.”

Uesugi frowned. “No?”

“No. Because my grandfather didn’t make that staff--he found it. On the Trinity Islands, as it so happens. It belonged to the same mage that invaded our city. Ergo, three people were able to use it.” She took a moment to consider. “I can’t imagine what my grandparents thought of that, or if it ever occurred to them what that meant, but I imagine that in some ways, they are still linked to that original force.”

Sasuke paused for thought. “So--allow me to base a guess off your previous conjecture--you perhaps believe that Uesugi and I are connecting with a singular force with this creature on the Trinity Islands, the same way that the Lord and Lady Ishida and that Mage connected?”

“That’s my guess.”

“Alright.” Uesugi shifted uncomfortably. Sasuke watched the dim light flutter and play over her severe, beautiful features, and realized all at once--oh. Well that was an unprofessional feeling. “Alright, but here is my question, your Highness. There was a physical object in question when the Lord and Lady existed: that staff. As best I know, there is no physical object in play here, unless I’ve utterly missed something.”

“That’s my question, too.”

All three of them fell silent. Sasuke peered out the window, over the lip of the obsidian cliffs, and realized he could just make out the statue of Mitsunari and the Queen dancing in the surf.

---

Two days later, Toyotomi-Akechi emerged from a downpour in the kitchen, shaking out her boots. “Uesugi.”

“Where have you been?” Uesugi didn’t sound upset by any means. Sasuke had gathered they were rather used to Toyotomi-Akechi’s comings and goings being erratic at best.

“That doesn’t matter. You and Sarutobi should come with me.”

“What?”

But the woman just motioned again and turned back out into the rain. Cursing, Uesugi flung a cloak at Sasuke and donned one herself, racing after her.

They sloshed through the empty cobblestone streets, kicking up water in thick sheets. Thunder rumbled ominously overhead. Taking twisting, labyrinthine side streets, they slid through the curving underbelly of the City with the kind of ease Sasuke had never imagined. And then--

“Here.” Toyotomi-Akechi led them into a little courtyard. Several houses backed up around a circle of patchy grass, a well sitting squat between them. “Down there.”

“Down there what?” Uesugi snapped, squinting down into the well.

Sasuke held his glasses against his face and took a look. Nothing but blackness greeted them. What was he even looking for?

“Don’t look.” Toyotomi-Akechi laughed at them. “Listen.”

He shut his eyes obediently. Was there a point to this? He heard the thunder overhead. He heard the rush of wind and the surging tide. He heard the rain hammering against stone and rooftop and fabric, and--

And he didn’t hear water plinking against water.

“There’s no water in there,” Uesugi murmured. “Alright. So it’s an empty well.”

And at that, Toyotomi-Akechi grinned like a snake incarnate. Stretching out her hand, a flutter of magical lights emanated from her fingertips and circled downward. They watched the dark stones of the well inch by inch by inch--and then, there it was: a strange looking doorway at the very bottom, an ancient padlock holding it shut.

“That looks like a place to get murdered,” Uesugi commented.

“One would hope not.”

“Do you think--” Sasuke paused. “This is a bit of a stretch, but--”

He didn’t need to finish the sentence. Uesugi just turned to the other woman. “I’m assuming you brought a ladder?”

“Brought? No.” But she motioned to one leaning against a nearby house. Uesugi just fetched it herself and lowered it into the well, jostling it a few times to see if it would stick. It did.

“Alright. Sarutobi?”

He swallowed all of his misgivings. “Right behind you.”

“Good.”

They clambered down the ladder and onto the wooden platform. For a second he thought she would try and pick the padlock, but she just smashed her heel through the hinges of the old door and watched it snap loose. There: there was another ladder, leading down into an unknown depth.

Uesugi blinked against the rain and yelled up to Toyotomi-Akechi, “If we don’t return in four hours time, come back and get us!”

“Got it.”

Sasuke waited for her to clear the door before he hopped onto the second ladder and descended. The rain above sluiced through the slats of the wooden door and sprayed him, but he kept his head down as the whole world went dark around him. Down, down, down--and finally his foot met pavement again.

“Alright,” Uesugi muttered in the pitch black. “Give me a second.”

Shhck, shhck--finally her match caught. She lifted it in the dark and found a long-unused torch, and as soon as it went up, they both gasped.

Before them, stretching out into nothing, was a long, dark hallway under the city.

[atc74]

The Convention Connection - Two by Two

What originally started out as a one shot for @iwantthedean has turned into so much more. This series is over a year in the making and there is only part left after this. I hope you all have enjoyed this ride as much as I have. 

Catch up on The Convention Connection

Summary: A baby shower is thrown for the expectant parents. 

Word Count: 1915

Warnings: Excessive use of fluff, pregnancy frustrations

Thank you to my saving grace, @just-another-busy-fangirl​, beta extraordinaire. 

“Jay!” Nicole called from the upstairs of their home. She was in the nursery they had just finished a few days ago. With only about six weeks to go before her due date, they wanted to make sure that everything was finished before they were too close and Nicole was too big to do anything.

The nursery was finished in soft blues and greens with a Noah’s Ark theme. Jensen and Nicole had decided that since there were two babies coming, they would use the theme “Two by Two.” One of Nicole’s friends at the hospital was an accomplished artist and had spent hours painting the walls to get the theme just right, giraffes and elephants painted meticulously added to the feel.

Nicole had been banned from the room until it was finished and it wasn’t until last weekend that she had been allowed in, after Jay had assembled both cribs. All the other accessories and furniture had been stored in the generous walk-in closet. With the help of a couple of friends, everything was placed with Nicole’s direction and the room was absolutely perfect.

Jensen walked in the room, finding his very pregnant wife sitting in one of the plush rocking chairs, rubbing small circles over her swollen middle. She still took his breath away and he marveled at how lucky he was to have found her and that she had agreed to share this life with him. “Hey, Baby, what’s on your mind?”

“Ash and Ang are flying in today. The spare room is already made up, but Matt and Rob won’t be here till Friday. Are you picking them up?” Nicole inquired.

“Yes, I talked to Ash before she boarded and her flight is on time. Angelina’s is delayed because of a storm in Minneapolis, but I will get her, too. I promise,” Jensen assured her.

“Okay, good. I just don’t want to miss anything and I feel with all these hormones I am forgetting everything lately!” Nicole was tired and getting frustrated with the amount of information she felt she was forgetting lately. From her medical knowledge, she knew “pregnancy brain” was not an actual ailment. She deduced that is was just everything else on her mind, with the twins due to arrive in six weeks, but she couldn’t shut it down.

“Everything is all set for the baby shower on Saturday, too. Beth already ordered the cake and it will be ready Saturday morning. I was informed that your girls are going shopping Friday morning before the guys get here. Ashley Renee and Beth will be here that afternoon and everything is going to fine. Your only job is to relax, be beautiful and grow my babies!” Jensen knelt in front of her, kissing her stomach lovingly as he gazed up at his wife.

“I am going stir crazy. My blood pressure is down but they won’t let me return to work and only lifted some of my restrictions. I can hardly clean anything and I want to do something!” Nicole fumed.

“Well, I can get you out of the house if you want to join me when I pick up your friends,” Jay offered, seeing a smile as it spread across her face.

“I think I can handle that!” she laughed. “I miss my girls so much!”

~*~

Wednesday night was spent with delivery pizza and cheesy rom coms as the three friends caught up. There was talk of baby names, but Nicole wouldn’t give in and reveal the names she and Jensen had picked out. The only thing anyone had been told was that they were expecting a boy and a girl.

“So Ash, tell me how things are going with Matt,” Nicole probed as she dug into her ice cream.

“Things are amazing! Being married to Matt is the best thing in the world right now and we have decided to start a family!”  Ashley squealed and the three of you shared of group hug at the happy news.

“And Angelina, I know things are moving along with you and Rob. Aren’t you so glad I got you that extra VIP for Minneapolis?” Nicole bragged.

“Duh! I know the long distance isn’t ideal, especially with planning a wedding. I am anxious about the move, though. It isn’t just a whole new city; it will be the start of a whole new life with him. I am not anxious about being married to him; that I can’t wait for, but the rest of it scares me a little. I have lived in Minnesota my entire life, but most everything he does is in Los Angeles. He has an entire career there while I can get a job anywhere,” Angelina admitted, looking at her dear friends as tears glistened in her eyes.

“Oh, Boo, everything is going to work out just fine. You guys have so much love, it will get you through anything. Trust me, Jensen and I have been there. You just have to be honest and work it out together,” Nicole comforted her as Ashley refilled their drinks; wine for them and some sparkling water for Nicole.

“Nic is right, Ang. It wasn’t easy for me either when I moved in with Matt, all the way across the entire country! I miss my friends and family, but we have each other and that is what matters,” Ashley added.

“I knew this weekend was what I needed! Thank you both so much for talking me down from the ledge,” Angelina gushed.

“Okay, we have a full day of cleaning and setup to do tomorrow, so we should probably hit the sack. Friday we have groceries and food prep. Beth and Ashley will be here mid afternoon and Rob and Matt get in around five. We will pick them up, check into the hotel, then come back here before dinner, so we can get the rest of the room ready,” Ashley recounted, listing everything off on her fingers.

“I can’t wait for everyone to get here for this baby shower! I can’t believe we talked Jensen into a co-ed shower!” Angelina chimed in.

“Okay, everyone in bed. I am exhausted and it’s only ten o’clock!” Nicole yawned. The three women made their way upstairs, still chatting excitedly about the upcoming events.

~*~

“Rob, did you put out the balloons?” Angelina asked her fiance as he walked into the house, still shaking snow out his hair.

“Yes, Honey. Matt and I took care of it. The sidewalk and driveway are cleared and salted. It is finally starting to let up, I think,” Rob pondered as he gazed out the window.

“Okay, thank you. Beth just ran to pick up the cupcakes and I have the stand ready for when she gets back. The food is almost ready, and all the decorations are-” Angelina went over the list in her head before her thoughts were broken by one of her favorite voices.

“Ahhhhh!!! Oh my God, girl, you look stunning!” Brianna’s voice rang through the house as she walked through the front door, greeting Nicole, wrapping her in a side hug. She rubbed her hands over Nicole’s bump. “I can’t wait to meet these bundles!”

“Hey Bri!” Ang called out as she made her way from the kitchen to the front of the house. She squeaked as Brianna hugged her so tight she could barely breathe.

“I am so happy to see you girls! Congrats on the engagement by the way. Rob, you sly dog!” Brianna playfully punched Rob in the arm before hugging him, too. “Kim is on her way, but had to make a stop. Jared and Gen are swinging by the liquor store and will be over, too. And Misha, well, Misha is Misha.”

“The punch bowls!!” Ashley shouted as she ran back in the kitchen.

~*~

The house filled quickly with the chatter and laughter of all of Nicole’s friends and family. Besides blood family, the guest list was a who’s who of a Supernatural Convention. Mark and Sarah Sheppard had made the trip, along with Ruth, Jason Manns, Rich and his wife, Jaci.

Tours of the nursery were given and games were played. The food was a big hit, everyone commenting on how creative everyone had been in the planning. The theme was comfort foods and although the list was odd, it was what the Lady of the Hour wanted.

The food included a taco bar, homemade meat lover’s pizza, fried rice and chicken sandwiches with a variety of fixings. Ashley Renee had made a cute watermelon ‘ark’ filled with fruit, arranging little plastic animals in and around it. There was also a hot chocolate bar with all the toppings and a plethora of sweet treats. The hit of the party was the cake, which was tiered cupcakes decorated with animals, two of each, just like Noah had on the Ark.

The shower was a booming success and once all the gifts had been opened, the proud parents addressed their guests.

“Nicole and I are so overwhelmed by all the love, and support and are so happy that all of you could be here with us today,” Jensen started.

“None of this would have been as special if you weren’t here. We would like to say a huge thank you to Ashley and Ashley Renee, Angelina, Beth, Genevieve and Jared, for all their help planning and set up. Also to Matt and Rob for shoveling; snow was not in the forecast!” Nicole added.

“Now, we have a few gifts to hand out as well,” Jensen continued. He handed an envelope to Mark and Sarah, then another to Angelina and Rob. Both couples opened them together, gasps coming from all four.

“Are you serious?!” Ang and Sarah asked at the same time.

“Yes, we had a long talk about all of this and any of you would have been excellent choices, we have asked these four amazing, incredible people to be the Godparents of our children,” Jensen announced. “Who would be better than God and the King of Hell?”

Everyone enjoyed a good laugh at that. Both women had tears in their eyes as they hugged Nicole and Jensen, their partners doing the same.

“We’d be honored, guys. Thank you,” Rob humbly told Jensen and Nicole.

“Yes, absolutely,” Mark agreed.

The guests started dispersing shortly afterwards. Jared, Matt and Rob carried all the gifts upstairs while the ladies got started on the cleanup. There was enough food left over for dinner that night and everyone sat around reminiscing about how they had met, favorite stories and  embarrassing admissions. Gen recalled her pregnancies fondly, nudging Jared, quietly suggesting maybe trying for another.

“Well, we gotta go, guys! Thanks!” Jared stood and threw Gen her coat.

“Oh geez!” Jensen groaned, shaking his head at his best friend.

“Make it a girl this time, Padalecki!” Nicole threw out as they walked out the door.

“So, are you guys really not telling anyone what their names are going to be? Someone has to know.” Matt looked around at everyone else left in the room, his eyes finally landing on Nicole and Jensen.

“No, we haven’t told anyone yet, Matt. But…” Nicole paused.

“Their names are Av-” Jensen stopped as soon as Nicole placed her hand over his mouth.

“Jay! We agreed! Pull up, man!” Nicole chastised her husband.

“Aww, come on! I hate secrets!” Jensen pouted.

“Six more weeks guys, Chuck willing,” Nicole just smiled.

“I’ll see what I can do,” Rob chuckled.

Tags - now open - do the thing: @iwantthedean @chelsea072498 @paintrider13-blog @d-s-winchester @just-a-touch-of-sass-and-fandoms @just-another-busy-fangirl @winchesterprincessbride @waywardjoy @like-a-bag-of-potatoes @mamaredd123 @ellen-reincarnated1967 @sis-tafics @katymacsupernatural @tankcupcakes  @wonderange @meeshw777  @tmccarney @ruprecht0420 @theoriginalvicki @hexparker @nanie5 @docharleythegeekqueen @megansescape @notnaturalanahi @impalaimagining @mrswhozeewhatsis @blacktithe7 @emoryhemsworth @dracotomanddeansprincess23 @bringmesomepie56 @devilgirlsarah @spnbaby-67 @emilycollins11 @myoutletforfanfiction @deansangelgirl @mizzzpink @jerk-bitch-and-an-angel @kayteonline @percussiongirl2017 @fanfreak07 @tattooedmomster13 @sandlee44 @moonstar86 @uttertrash–butlikecutetrash  @squirrel-moose-winchester @growningupgeek @charliebradbury1104 @evansrogerskitten @feelmyroarrrr @itseverythingilike @smoothdogsgirl @ashstrom87 @supernatural-jackles 

Dean/Jensen Only: @akshi8278 @iamabeautifulperson18 @suzannebeaketa @thing-you-do-with-that-thing @deandoesthingstome @spn-dean-and-sam-winchester @boxywrites  @sparklesuperwholock88  @ericaprice2008   @leatherwhiskeycoffeeplaid   @tardis-full-of-fallen-angels 

[smoaking-greenarrow]

Right Girl Chapter One: First Sight

Felicity meets Oliver after she transfers to Starling Academy, a high school she never wanted to step foot in.

Read Chapter Two: Second Chances on AO3! 

Being the new girl in high school was always hard, but mom was forcing me to go to a prep school now; one that I didn't even believe we could afford. I guess after being kicked out of three other schools, she didn't have very much of a choice.

I wasn't heartless. I felt terrible that my mother had to send me here; almost as much as I hated the idea of having to deal with privileged, idiotic stoners all day. It would be worse than the idiotic jocks I had to deal with at my old schools. I knew I wouldn't be dealing with football players here though. The school didn't even have a football team. I was a little curious to do an observational study on which form of boy was worse; the jocks who tried to get into your pants by flexing and slapping your ass when you walked by, or the rich boys who tried to get into your pants by flaunting their money in your face and revving the engines of their fancy cars.

This might be the worst school I've ever been to, but I also knew that I had to try to play nice. For my mom.

I could play the part, I could blend in. I had the blonde hair to get me started, but if I'd learned anything, it was that looks only got you so far, and if I wanted to fly under the radar here, I couldn't tear down any cheerleaders and I couldn't verbally ruin the prep squad of boys I knew would be interested to meet me. New girls at school are like shiny toys to high school boys. The guys always have to find out if we're worth the effort of playing games with; if it's worth it to chase us, as long as we sleep with them soon after. I'd have to play along this time, even though I knew everything inside of me would want to shove my high heel into their crotches.

I took a deep breath, glancing at myself in the mirror before stepping out of my car and into the sunny parking lot. I pulled at my dress, adjusting the fabric, my heels tapping on the pavement as I lifted my chin. All eyes were on me. The problem with private schools is how small they are; there weren't actually that many families in this city that could afford Starling Academy. These kids were all of the children of all of the businessmen, politicians, and lawyers that lived outside of The Glades.

Everyone noticed me, and I was pretty sure that the entire school had gotten a nice long stare, or glare, by the time I reached the school's office. "Felicity," The receptionist smiled as I walked in, as if she knew exactly who I was already.

I would have rolled my eyes, but I was dedicated to playing nice here. So I smiled back. "Hi," I glanced down at her name tag, "Sharon. Nice to meet you."

She blushed, "I try to give all the new kids here a warm welcome. Here's a printed copy of your class schedule, in case you need it. You start with Mr. Baird's Statistics course in room 311. I've asked this lovely first-year to show you where the class is, since she decided to skip it yesterday."

I turned around to look at the brown haired girl slouching in the chair behind me. She looked equally as thrilled as I felt to be here. "I'm Felicity Smoak." I said, smiling as sweetly as I could and holding out my hand.

"Thea," She answered, ignoring my hand and standing up. This is why I have a hard time playing nice, I thought as I dropped my hand. "Stats is this way," she wandered into the hallway without another word. I gave Sharon another smile before following my welcoming tour guide. She glanced at me as she walked ahead, towards the staircase, eyeing my outfit. "Nice," she turned her back to me again, "you'll fit in here just fine." I took in her jean shorts and ripped Metallica t-shirt.

"I thought they had a 'professional attire' dress code here." I said, smirking at her converse sneakers.

"Not when your family donated the whole west wing of the building." she flashed me a sarcastic, annoyed smile.

"I see," I said, following her around the corner and onto the third floor. "So, Thea, what should I know about Starling Academy?"

Thea leaned against the lockers outside of room 311, "Stats isn't worth your time," she gestured her hand for me to go in.

I looked at her, and all I could really see was an angry, confused girl who was trying to be cooler than she really was. "Oh yeah? Then why, as a freshman, are you taking a 300 level course in it?" Thea glanced away, and I stepped closer. "See, I have a feeling that you're smarter than you want people to know. You think that the edgy outfits and 'I don't give a shit' demeanor will make people leave you alone, but you're not actually sure that you want to be the loner."

Her eyes darted to meet mine, and I watched as anger flashed. "You think you know me? You don't know the first thing about me."

I shrugged, "Rich girl raised with a silver spoon in her mouth lashes out due to the pressure to become what mommy and daddy want her to be."

Thea glared, "You think you have me figured out, huh?"

"I've known people like you. And your plan won't work." I said, wondering how long she'd go through the 'I'm an edgy, angsty teen' phase before she grew up and decided to become the trophy wife of a Mayor or CEO.

I turned on my heel and headed for the door. "Yours won't either." She responded. I gave her one last look before going into the classroom, and watched as she bailed on class again, storming off down the hallway. Rich kids were predictable, if anything.

During lunch, I sat at one of the giant, round tables. Alone. It was like they chose these tables, big enough to seat fifteen students, just to make the ones who sat by themselves feel even lonelier. But it did give me the opportunity to watch. I watched and analyzed the cliques. The boys pretty much all looked the same; tall, muscular, and handsome. They also all seemed to mostly be friends, of course with the occasional outcasts and nerds who were probably here on scholarships rather than paid for by their wealthy family trust fund.

The girls were what interested me though. Those differences were much more noticeable. There was the cheerleader clique, obvious by their uniforms; the honor student clique, obvious by their noses hidden in text books; the lacrosse girls, obvious by their braided hair and loud voices yelling about a game this weekend; the artists, the musicians, the 'I'm in every club' girls that were bust planning prom or something; and of course the stoners, where I could easily see my new friend Thea sneaking out of the cafeteria and ducking behind the building.

I rolled my eyes, typical.

"Hi,"

I looked up to see a dark haired boy with bright blue eyes standing above me. "Hello," I said, putting my apple down. He hesitated, like he was nervous. I watched as he glanced back at his buddies, who were all nudging each other and giggling. I rolled my eyes. "Please, sit, give them something to pat you on the back for."

The boy cocked his head to the side, his eyebrow raising at my comment, and I bit my lip. Nice, Felicity. Way to not be snarky.

He sat down beside me though, throwing one more glance over his shoulder. "I'm Tommy."

I nodded, holding out my hand. "Felicity."

"I know."

I raised an eyebrow, "Oh do you?"

"Well, yeah. This school only has 500 kids, it's kind of easy to recognize a new face when you've spent the past three years looking at the rest of them."

I nodded again, I didn't really know what else to say. To be honest, I wasn't really used to talking to boys. I usually scared them off through sarcasm, or I just talked computers and they got bored enough that they'd leave me alone. Luckily, I was saved by the bell. "Well Tommy," I said, jumping up from my seat, "It was really nice to meet you."

"Yeah...you too, Felicity." He walked beside me as I threw my things in the trash, and I eyed him suspiciously. "Sorry," he said, laughing at himself, "I bet the last thing you want is some random guy trying to hit on you on your first day."

I raised an eyebrow, "Is that what you're doing?"

His face got red, "Well, no. I was just wondering if you'd want to stop by a party tonight. It's right on the beach, tonight at 10:00."

"With you?" I asked.

"Uh, no, not necessarily, I mean, we can definitely call it that if you want, but I just thought, you know, you being new and all, that I'd invite you. I could introduce you to everyone. I'm sure most of the school will be there, start of the year party and all. We're having a bonfire. You'll see it when you pull into the parking lot, it'd be hard to miss."

I tried to read his expression, wondering if this was some new girl hazing thing. The kid just looked nervous and optimistic. I sighed. If I wanted to survive this school without getting kicked out, I needed to make friends. "Sure."

He smiled, relief and happiness washing over him. "Okay. I'll see you there, then."

It was my last class of the day and I couldn't stop glancing up at the clock. Not only was English my least favorite subject, but the teacher was droning on about Romeo and Juliet, a play I had read every year since middle school, and at every school I'd ever been to. As soon as the bell rang I sprang from my seat and started shoving my books into my bag. "Hey," a voice said from behind me. I sighed, turning around and taking a deep breath. This was really not the best time to make more friends, I just wanted to get home and curl up in my pajamas and watch reruns of reality television while eating a pint of Ben and Jerry's ice cream.

"Hi," I responded, zipping my bag and putting it over my shoulder. "I'm Felicity, but I'm kind of in a rush to get home," I said, smiling and rolling my eyes as I offered my hand to the boy in front of me, "My mom needs my help giving our cat his shots," the boy took my hand hesitantly and shook it while I rambled on like a crazy person in the hopes of him never talking to me again. "He's a slippery little fella, I have to hold him down while my mom injects the shot, it usually involves a lot of screaming by all three of us. And claws. Painful scratching."

He nodded slowly, "Okay...I'll let you get home then..."

"Great," I smiled brightly, "see you tomorrow!" I tapped his shoulder before running off, not bothering to mention that we'd never actually introduced ourselves.

I didn't slow down until I reached my car, avoiding eye contact with every student I passed. Once inside my car, I gave myself two seconds for a little happy dance that I was finally out of that hell hole, until tomorrow morning at least. Tommy passed in front of my car with his herd of friends, including the guy I'd just blown off.

I waved and they both waved back with sheepish smiles. Yikes. No thanks. No love triangles for this girl.

I put my keys in the ignition, more excited to go home than I'd ever been when my car made a familiar, heart dropping noise. The engine rattled and fought to start before screeching and turning over. I sighed, letting out a groan and slamming my head on my steering wheel.

Worst. Day. Ever.

"Do you need help with that?"

I looked up to find my third unwanted boy of my first day at Starling Academy, leaning against the passenger side of the car parked next to me. But at least this one was offering something I needed. "You know how to fix that?" I asked, gesturing toward the hood of my car.

The boy shrugged, "pop it and let me take a look." I popped my hood and he walked over, opening it up as I got out and moved to stand beside him. "Hm," he said, reaching down to fidget with some parts. Grease was on his hands immediately, and I felt a little bit embarrassed until I remembered that he was a preppy boy and some grease on his hands wouldn't hurt him.

"So, you know how to fix it?"

"Not sure yet," he answered. I watched for a moment as he played around with the insides of my car until I got bored and took a seat on the curb. He glanced down at me from over his shoulder, "You can sit in your car if you want. Or mine." to which I only shrugged, watching the people as they passed, getting into their own cars and going home. "I'm Oliver. Queen."

"Felicity. Smoak."

He nodded, turning his attention back to my car, "So Felicity, how'd you end up at SA?"

"How did you?" I shot back without thinking. It was a relatively safe question, unless you were me and had a record of not meshing very well with high school administrations.

Oliver glanced down at me again, obviously wondering why I wouldn't answer his question. "My parents paid for the west wing of the school."

I bit my lip, "Your Thea's brother." Part of me felt bad for snapping at a guy who offered me help, and the other part of me didn't want to think of him as a nice guy.

His eyebrows raised in surprise, "Wow, first day and you've already met the elusive Thea Queen. I feel like I haven't seen her at school since it started."

"She's...an interesting girl."

"She's something, all right." He answered, smirking. He clearly wasn't too worried about his sister's behavior, the look on his face seemed like he actually admired her rebellious attitude. It made me curious about her; how I'd written her off as a spoiled rich girl who was going through her defiant phase. "Are you going to answer the question, or should I just keep asking more so you can direct them back at me?"

I narrowed my eyes at him and he chuckled, turning his back to me and looking down at my car. "My mom made me come here," I said hesitantly but honestly.

"Why?" he asked, still adjusting and analyzing the car parts.

I paused, not sure how much I could trust this boy or how much about me I wanted him to know. I had a good feeling about him though, like he was different. And he was currently staying after school to fix my car when he could have just gone home. "I got into some trouble at my old schools."

"Schools?" he asked.

"People aren't always who they seem to be." I mumbled.

He turned to look at me, trying to read me as much as I'd been trying to read him. After a moment of watching me, he smiled sweetly, "Story for another time, then. There's a party tonight, think you might go?" He changed the subject, turning away again.

"Uh," I had forgotten. "I don't know. Some guy named Tommy invited me, but I'm not sure."

"You should," he said, still focused on my car as he shrugged. After a moment of silence he sighed, turning around and wiping his greasy hands on his nice pants. "Look, I don't think that I'll be able to fix this. Why don't I call a tow and have them take it in, and I'll give you a ride home."

I pursed my lips, "Okay. Do we need to find your sister before we go?"

"No," Oliver shrugged, "She finds her own way home." He opened up the passenger door and offered me his hand to help me up. We both glanced down at the grease on his hands. I laughed, picking myself up and getting into his car.

"What's Thea's deal, anyway?" I asked when he rounded the car and got behind the wheel.

"She doesn't like to remind the kids here that she's a Queen. So that means she doesn't acknowledge me at school, and she definitely doesn't let me drive her home."

"Why is she trying so hard to not be a Queen?"

Oliver shrugged as he pulled out of the parking lot, "Queen Consolidated might be a successful business, but my family stepped on a lot of people to get it that way. I think Thea just wants to figure out who she is without the name, so she tries to associate herself with people who don't care about it. But in a school like this, the only people who don't care about your last name are the kids who are too high to care about anything."

As he spoke, he pulled out his phone and dialed, putting it to his ear and glancing at me, looking for my reaction. I wondered what exactly "stepping on a lot of people" meant, but I wasn't sure I actually wanted to know. It was his family's company after all, not his. I listened as he told the tow truck service where my car was, and handed me the phone to give them my address.

After he hung up, I glanced at him, "And you?"

He met my eyes for a moment before looking back at the road, amusement behind his gaze that I wasn't about to drop this interesting conversation about his family. "I've come to terms with it. For now." He replied. I looked out of the front window as he drove, feeling a little bit guilty for the way I'd spoken to Thea Queen. Maybe there was at least one person in this school that I couldn't write off just yet. I glanced at Oliver again. Or two. "What about you, any brothers or rebellious sisters?" He asked.

"No," I said, shaking my head. "Only child."

He smiled at me, and I actually felt nervous. He had a gorgeous smile, one that made me sure the girls at this school were lining up to get his attention. I wondered if he gave it to them. By his easy-going demeanor and friendly attitude, I doubted he had any trouble finding dates. And why was I thinking about his social life? So he could smile at me and make me feel some butterflies, so what? "Hey," I said, looking out the window. "I never told you how to get to my apartment. Where are we going?"

Oliver gestured to his pants, "I was kind of hoping to stop home and change before I dropped you off. I live just a few blocks away. It'll only take a minute. Do you mind?"

I shook my head, curious and happy that I'd get to see where this guy lived.

I wasn't surprised by the mansion we pulled into a minute later, the Queen family ran half the city. The nice half at least. I felt a moment of panic, thinking about the apartment he'd be taking me home to, right at the edge of The Glades. It wasn't the worst apartment in the city at all, but it definitely didn't compare to this place. I shook my head, not realizing that he had gotten out until he opened my door. I didn't care what people thought of me, so I shouldn't care what Oliver Queen thinks about our apartment.

He lead me into the Queen mansion silently, probably guessing that I needed the silence to process the giant home. "Mom!" he yelled as he dropped his backpack in the foyer.

"Yes, Oliver, in here." He smiled and gestured for me to follow him into a study, where his mother sat on a sofa doing some kind of paperwork, spread out on the table in front of her and on the cushion beside her. She glanced up quickly as we walked in, ready to go back to the papers, but my presence seemed to catch her attention.

"Mom, this is Felicity Smoak, she's new at school."

"Hi, Mrs. Queen." I said, smiling, "It's nice to meet you." I offered my hand. The woman shook my hand while eyeing me the whole time, in that cautious mother way. Jeesh, hello Ice Queen.

"Moira, please. Pleasure to meet you, Miss Smoak." She glanced at her son again, "You're bringing her through the front door, what a refreshing change."

My mouth dropped a little as Oliver hissed a sharp "Mom,"

"Where's your sister?" She asked, still barely looking up from her work. If this was the way Oliver and Thea grew up, I couldn't really blame Thea for not wanting to become like this woman; snide remarks and barely acknowledging her son.

"Probably at Ben's again, I'll see her tonight at the bonfire and make sure she comes home though." he promised.

Mrs. Queen sighed, "Please tell her that she needs to call me if she plans on staying the night somewhere else."

"I will."

I glanced at the pictures on the wall as they spoke, plenty of Thea and Oliver, a few family photos, their parents' wedding. I noticed one photo that looked like a summer yacht party or something, that had Tommy in it along with Mr. and Mrs. Queen, Thea, and Oliver. Clearly Tommy was welcome in this family, unlike me it seemed, or any other girl Oliver brought home. I wondered if my judgment was a little off about him. He sneaks girls into his house through the back door? Maybe he was a player and I was just blinded by the smile and the eyes and the hair and the little freckle by his mouth and everything else that made him very attractive to me.

"Well," Oliver said, "I'll be back in a bit, I just stopped to change my pants before I bring Felicity home."

Moira glanced up, and then down at her son's pants, noticing that he was covered in grease for the first time. "What on earth happened to you?" She asked, her eyes amused.

"I...uh, Felicity was having car trouble."

Moira laughed, "Oliver, you don't know the first thing about fixing cars."

My eyes snapped up to Oliver. His lips were pursed as he shook his head at his mother, embarrassed, but I could see the humor in his eyes. He faked it? Who would do that? My mind jumped to the conclusion that he was an asshole trying to get laid, before I realized that he hadn't even touched me; not once, not accidentally, hadn't even tried. I couldn't help the giant grin that spread across my face. "What?" I asked.

Oliver glanced up at me hesitantly, "Thanks, mom." he said.

Moira was distracted by the paperwork in front of her again, but she glanced up at him with a warm smile, "Hm? Oh, you're welcome honey."

"Uh, my room's upstairs," he said, leading me back out into the foyer and up the staircase.

I followed quickly on his heels. "You tried to fix my car for fifteen minutes." I said.

"Yes," He sighed. He got to the top of the stairs and lead me down a hallway.

"You have grease all over you."

"I'm aware." He replied, opening the door to his room and walking over to his bureau. I followed him inside and sat down on his bed as he rummaged through his drawer and pulled out a pair of pants. He looked over at me as he unbuttoned his pants, and I raised an eyebrow. Rolling his eyes, he took his dirty pants off and pulled on the pair of jeans he'd picked out. Once clothed again, he shoved his hands in his pockets and met my eyes, not looking away this time.

"Well." I said. He continued to stare. "Why?"

"Why did I say that I could fix your car when I don't have the slightest idea on how to fix cars?" I nodded. He sighed again, "I saw an opportunity." He didn't look away from my eyes as he spoke. Under any other circumstances, I probably would have ran from that room screaming, or at least been totally creeped out that a guy would pretend to fix my car just to talk to me. But this was different, it felt different. I liked that he did it.

"To...?" I teased, "See if you could fix an engine?"

He threw me a look, glancing away with the hint of a smile pulling at his lips, "No. To talk to you."

"Well, why would you need such a messy excuse? Saying hello in the hallway would have been a lot less trouble."

Oliver shrugged, "My car was right next to yours...I heard that awful sound it made when you tried to start it...you looked so defeated...I figured that even if I couldn't magically become a mechanic long enough to fix it, that I could at least offer you a ride." Oliver sat down beside me on the edge of his bed and I looked at his eyes again. He laughed lightly, "Definitely on the list of stupid ideas I've had."

"Are you a nice guy?" I asked. The question kind of slipped out. It'd been in my head for the past hour of knowing him, but I hadn't meant to say it out loud. I usually made those judgments about men for myself. And the answer was usually no.

"I hope so." He said quietly, not looking away, letting me try to decipher if he could be trusted or not. Half of me was trying to figure out if I wanted to let him in, the other half of me was wondering if he was going to try to kiss me, or if he'd stop me if I tried. "You've been hurt quite a bit, haven't you?...By too many people."

I looked away now, uncomfortable that he could read me like I could read everyone else. "I guess you could say that."

He smiled slightly, "Story for another time, then." He said softly, his words from earlier when he'd asked about what brought me to Starling Academy. He could see my boundaries, and he didn't push them, but his comment told me that he wanted to know. Sometime. I watched his eyes for another moment before I heard him take a deep breath, "I should get you home."

"Yeah," I replied, standing up. There was a pit forming in my stomach, wondering if Oliver Queen could actually see through me, if he'd actually try to hear those stories, to get to know me. But the knot was there because I was afraid of what would happen if he did, or if I could even let him.

"I have nothing to wear," I groaned, throwing more clothes out of my closet and onto my floor. My mom laughed from the doorway of my room. "It's not funny. What do you wear to a party on a beach? Dress? Jeans? Sweatshirt? Should I bring a bathing suit?"

"Wear whatever you'll be comfortable in, honey."

"Says the woman who wears six inch stilettos and body con dresses every day." I mumbled. My mom was in the middle of rolling her eyes at me when the doorbell rang and she lunged for the hallway. "No!" I screamed, "Please mom, go hide in your room!" I hissed at her as I tried to gain my balance and chase after her. She was surprisingly quick for a woman in stilettos. She reached the door before me, and swung it open with an excited squeal at the first sight of Oliver. I groaned, hiding my face in my hands.

"He's cute!" she "whispered" to me. I groaned more, shaking my head as Oliver chuckled. "Hi handsome, I'm Felicity's mom. You can call me Donna."

"Hi Donna." he shook her hand, "I'm Oliver."

My mom giggled. She giggled. I grabbed Oliver's hand and pulled him inside, slamming the door and gently nudging my mother out of the way. "You don't really look ready," Oliver commented, his eyes roaming from my face, to my robe, to my bare feet.

"Oh honey, go finish getting ready. I'll keep Oliver here company."

I threw a glare at my mom, continuing to pull Oliver through the apartment and into my room, "I just have to change. He can sit in here." I said, slamming my bedroom door too. I glanced at Oliver, wearing the same jeans he'd changed into earlier and a plain gray t-shirt that hugged his body in all of the right places. I nodded to myself, stripping off my skirt and pulling on jean shorts. I watched as Oliver awkwardly glanced away. "What?" I teased, "Never seen a girl in her underwear before?"

Oliver continued to study my ceiling. "Uh, no, I was just thinking how strange it is that we've barely known each other for six hours and we've already seen each other without our clothes on."

I smoothed my face, staring at him blankly, "Did you just flirt with me?"

"What?" he asked, his eyes meeting mine, "No. I wasn't-I was just saying-" He let out a breathy laugh, "You're funny."

I shrugged, pulling a sweater over my tank top and slipping flip flops onto my feet. "You're fun to tease." I nudged him as I passed, leading him back out into the kitchen where my mom was pouring a glass of wine. "I'll be back later mom," I said over my shoulder, doing my best to drag Oliver away quickly.

He hesitated, "It was nice to meet you, Donna."

"You too, handsome. Have fun, kids! And take care of my girl!" She yelled as I closed the door.

Oliver looked down at me, his eyes amused. "What?" I asked.

"Your mom really cares about you." He said, heading down the stairs. I wondered if that was a change of pace for him, but decided not to ask about his mother. Instead I let him lead me to his car and open the door for me.

"I should tell you now," I said as I sat down. He stopped with one hand on the roof of the car and other on the passenger door, leaning down to hear me. "I'm not very good at parties." Oliver laughed before closing my door and rounding the car to get in.

"Why do you say that?"

"I don't make friends very easily." I sighed, looking out of my window.

Oliver glanced at me, and then smiled, gesturing between us with his index finger, "I think you make friends just fine."

I pretended not to be affected by his use of 'friends' when it came to us, since I wasn't really sure what it was exactly that he hoped to have with me. I wasn't sure if he was interested in me or not. I couldn't even say for certain if he thought I was pretty. He didn't act like he hated me or anything...but maybe it was only friendship that he was looking for.

"Special circumstances," I shrugged, trying to play it cool. I barely knew him, I couldn't expect him to get the same butterfly-ish feeling about me that I had about him. "I was actually trying to flee that parking lot today."

He laughed gently, "Well, I'm happy you have an awful car then."

"We can't all have nice ones like this." I said, running my hand along the dashboard.

"It was partially a gift. My dad gave it to me on my sixteenth birthday, but I worked to pay for some of it."

I laughed, "Wow, and here I thought the kids at SA had never worked a day in their lives."

Oliver shrugged one shoulder, "My dad always said that things were more rewarding if you worked to earn it. I've tried a few different jobs here and there since I was fourteen. I wanted to see what it was that I wanted to do with my life."

"What was the consensus?" I asked.

Oliver bit his lip, seeming a little uncomfortable, "At the thriving age of eighteen I am preparing to start my leadership of Queen Consolidated."

I raised my eyebrows. After all that talk about Thea finding her own way, it seemed a little weird for Oliver to want to follow in his parents' footsteps. He seemed to have more admiration for Thea's free spirit than he did for the profession he was stepping into. "Your dad must be proud." I said.

Oliver glanced between me and the road for a long moment, and I knew I'd said something wrong. "He died," he finally said hesitantly, his voice low.

"Oh." I hesitated too, "I'm sorry, Oliver-I didn't realize."

"It's okay," He breathed, adjusting his hands on the steering wheel and keeping his eyes focused on the road now. "It was two years ago, he took the boat out and never came back."

"He...I mean, did they find the boat?"

"Yeah, at the bottom of the ocean, fifty miles from here."

"I'm sorry." I said, instinctively touching his forearm. Obviously he was still hurt by his father's death.

Oliver glanced down at my hand and then up to me. "It's okay, Felicity. But thank you." I didn't move my hand or stop looking at him. I wasn't sure what it was about him, but it felt like I'd known him for a very long time, much more than just a few hours at least. And I wanted to know everything about him, about his family, his life; anything he was willing to tell me. Well, that's a scary thought. Why was I so interested in knowing him? How did I already care so much? I didn't even know that I was capable of letting new people into my heart, but if every conversation with Oliver was like this, learning more about each other and talking like this, I knew that he was about to nudge his way right in there.

"If you ever need...I know I'm not really the most open person," I struggled for the right words, "But if you ever want to talk about it..."

He nodded slowly, moving his body so that he was facing me, and I realized that he wasn't driving anymore. My hand slid from his arm as I looked out of the window, noticing now that we were in a parking lot next to the beach, right by the party. I could see dozens of people on the beach and the giant bonfire Tommy had said I wouldn't miss.

"Felicity," I turned back to look at Oliver, who was still staring at me. I felt those damn butterflies again. "I just want to say...that I've really liked spending time with you today. And I'd really like to do it more." I bit my lip and his eyes flickered down as he watched, "Just so you know." He murmured, his eyes still on my mouth. Well, if he was going to stare at me like that...I leaned forward a little, trying to give him the green light to kiss me.

I'd just noticed the party and all of the people five seconds earlier, but the knocking on Oliver's window still had me gasping and jumping out of my seat. I would have seen the guy coming too, if I hadn't been trying to telepathically beg Oliver Queen to kiss me in the front seat of his car...at a party...after six hours since meeting him. Stupid girl.

The boys outside made sexual hand gestures and Oliver waved them off, "We should get out there." He said, his eyebrows coming together in...concern?

I just nodded, stepping out of the car and waiting by my door while he tried to brush off the frat boys that had swarmed his entrance with their annoying window tapping. I raised an eyebrow, okay, so he's popular. No surprise there. I kind of figured that much just by his model-like face and muscles.

Oliver nudged them, telling them to get lost, before coming up beside me. "Sorry," he said shyly, like he was embarrassed by the whole thing. I shrugged, and he reached for my hand for a moment before thinking differently and shoving it in his pocket.

"What are you worried about?" I asked.

Oliver looked at me for a long moment, "Are you always this direct?" He asked, a small smile pulling one corner of his mouth up.

It was contagious, and adorable. I couldn't help but smile back. "Yes. Sometimes I speak before I think. It's been an issue since first grade." I rolled my eyes and he laughed.

"I just don't want people to start rumors about you." He said slowly, "Showing up here with me, you know..."

"Ah," I said, the concerned look on his face when his buddies caught our almost kiss made sense now. "You sure you just don't want your classmates to know that you're a giant dweeb for pretending you could fix my car?"

Oliver smirked at me, "Don't you think I'd be walking in here bragging that I spent the afternoon with you if that was the case? You're gorgeous, Felicity. And this school is desperate for drama and gossip; they'd eat it right up if I told them all I spent some time with you. Every guy here would be jealous. I just don't want them talking about you more than they already are; especially not to gossip, I know how they work...I lied about being able to fix your car, but the drama mill turns it into something...not as innocent as it was."

I nodded slowly, trying to understand why he cared that much, but I ended up just replying, "So what?"

"I know it sounds silly," he sighed, "Just wait til you talk to some of these people." He said, heading towards the fire, and I groaned as I followed after him.

For the first half hour of the party, Oliver stayed by my side; showing me to the keg and getting me a drink, and then coming down to the water with me to put our feet in the water. Then we went up to the bonfire and he sat beside me on a log where I listened to him joke with some of the boys from school. It kind of made me wonder what the point of his little speech was, we were getting looks from people anyway, and I could tell they were talking about us. People had seen him helping me after school, and then we show up to the party together...I wouldn't be surprised if his so called drama mill started some crazy rumors just based on that. What really had me worried about my sanity though was that I didn't really care. I kind of liked the idea of people talking, thinking that Oliver Queen liked me. Would it really be a bad thing if people thought there was something going on between us? Would they even be wrong?

The party wasn't even going on for an hour when a very drunk, very annoying boy stumbled over to the log that Oliver and I were sitting on and squished between us. "Cat girl," he slurred. He looked like every other guy at the party, until I actually looked at his face. The guy from English class. "Is your cat all right? Did he get his shots okay?"

Oliver gave me a quizzical look, and I could see the wheels turning in his head, I hadn't mentioned having a cat to him, and he definitely hadn't seen one in my apartment. Because we didn't have one. "Yes," I responded. "Little Fluffy is pulling through."

The boy nodded, relieved. "Good." He said, like he'd actually been worrying about it since I made up the excuse.

I burst into laughter, and Oliver did too. The boy glanced between us. "What's so funny? Fluffy could have been seriously hurt, Oliver. It's not funny."

"You're right, Ben. Definitely not funny." He said, looking over at me, still laughing.

I bit my lip, drunk Ben was clearly very concerned about my imaginary cat. "I'm going to go grab another drink." I said, standing up. "You want one?" I asked Oliver.

"I do." Ben replied.

"I don't think that's a good idea," I said, taking Oliver's cup and making my way to the kegs. I knew that I would be hating every second of this party if it weren't for Oliver. I knew that drunk Ben, and all of the drunk boys like him, would have pissed me off if Oliver wasn't there. I wasn't sure how I felt about Starling Academy just yet, but Oliver was starting to change my mind about what I expected it to be. I didn't have a problem with that. I welcomed it. If I could get through my last year of high school without any incidents and actually having a little bit of fun, maybe I wouldn't feel so much bottled up anger all of the time; if I could actually open up and talk to Oliver about everything I'd done and been through. But those were some pretty heavy 'if's'.

As I approached the kegs, a tall brunette girl was up on one of them, her hands on either side while two boys held her legs up in the air, and another held the nozzle in her mouth. The others cheered. Apparently she was breaking her record from last weekend's party. Okay, maybe this would be my only SA party, I thought, rolling my eyes as the girl came down from her keg stand. She wiped her mouth and high-fived one of the boys who had been holding her legs. I waited. But the excitement wasn't going down. So I pushed my way through the crowd to the kegs, filling my cup and then Oliver's.

The girl from the keg stand glanced at me, "Is that for Oliver?"

I just gave her a shrug. I'd met my 'meeting new people' limit for the day, and if she was going to come at me with an accusing question rather than an introduction, I saw no point in being pleasant. "Maybe you should've fetched his drink a little quicker." She sneered, her lips curling in a smile.

I stared at her, and she quirked her eyebrow, nodding to the fire. I followed her gaze to Oliver, sitting beside a blonde who seemed very intoxicated. Her hands were all over him. He was gently pushing her hands away, but they seemed to be in a pretty intense conversation. "Oops," Keg girl sang.

I spun around to glare at her, "Who the hell are you?" I asked. My anger wasn't even at this girl. I'd seen pettier, bitchier girls than this, but it wasn't like she didn't deserve it.

"I'm Laurel. Oliver's ex. Or should I say one of Oliver's exes."

I shook my head. Uh-uh, no way. I was not about to buy into some lame gossip without hearing who she was to Oliver, from Oliver. I handed the girl my beer, "Seems like you're the jealous one. Maybe you need this more than I do. Enjoy your keg stand and frat boys, Laurel; seems like the attention is what you live for," I spat, unleashing all of my ruthless anger from this school on her. Laurel's mouth dropped slightly as she took the drink. "Have a nice night." I said, turning around but not really sure where I was going. I glanced at Oliver, and met his eyes immediately. He still had a drunk blonde murmuring something in his ear, but my heart raced for a moment because I had his attention. I wondered how long he'd been watching, if he noticed my little riff with his ex. I could tell that my face gave something away, because his eyebrows pushed together and he stared right at me. He shoved the blonde's hands off of him now and stood up, walking towards me.

The next thing I knew, sirens were blasting as six police cars pulled up to the sand and officers with flashlights came towards us. The party-goers were running in all directions. Oliver looked behind him, "Sara, come on!" He shouted. The blonde girl that was groping him seconds before looked up and noticed the police, and her face dropped. She stumbled her way to us and Oliver took my hand, guiding me to the car as the blonde trailed behind us. "There's another exit at the back of the parking lot," Oliver said, pulling out his keys as we rounded the car. "Can you help Sara into the back?"

"She's coming with us?" I asked. Stupidly. Of course she was.

"Her dad is the chief of police. I don't want her getting into any trouble."

"I'm right here, you know." Sara said, looking at me, and then down at Oliver's hand in mine. Her head cocked to the side, "Who is this, Oliver?"

"This," I responded, feeling my claws coming out for my second cat fight of the evening, "Is Felicity." I opened the back door for her and Sara nodded once as she passed me, getting into the backseat. I glanced back at the beach and saw the officers arresting a few of the kids that were too drunk and slow to run away as fast as the others. Once the doors were closed, we took off. "Where are we taking her?...if her dad can't know she's hammered."

Oliver sighed, clutching the steering wheel and looking at Sara in his rear-view mirror before glancing at me. "My house," he said hesitantly, gauging my reaction.

I kept quiet and nodded.

Sara leaned forward, sticking her head between us, "Ollie, you know that was all her, right?"

Oliver sighed, "We can talk about it later, Sara."

"Nooooo, no, no, no." Sara ranted, clearly pissed about something. "You know she called them."

I glanced between the two of them, but Oliver kept his jaw shut tight. "She who called who?" I asked.

"My sister," Sara said like it was the most obvious thing in the world. "The cops. Our dad." I was starting to catch on to the fact that whatever was going on was much bigger and deeper than some high school love triangle. Keg girl was drunk girl's sister, and they both had a connection to Oliver...I bit my lip, trying to piece together the unthinkable...Oliver didn't. He couldn't have. Who would do that? When I didn't respond to Sara, she groaned and laid back into the seat.

I threw a look at Oliver, who was watching me out of the corner of his eye. "How do you know Sara and Laurel?" I asked quietly, so that boozy in the back wouldn't hear. I glanced behind me, and Sara's eyes were closed. If there was one think I envied about getting that drunk, it was how quickly people could fall asleep.

Oliver raised one shoulder, and I could see the tension in his face and body. "It's a small school." He said so softly that I could barely hear him.

I glared. "I mean it." For our first day of knowing each other, we'd done a pretty good job of having open conversation, and I would have guessed that I'd be the one to put walls up and hide things, not him.

He sighed, "I was dating Laurel a year ago." I waited a moment, but it didn't seem like he planned on saying any more.

"Oliver, please..." I whispered, tilting my head until he glanced at me, and I raised an eyebrow.

"I was dating Laurel a year ago...until I cheated on her with her little sister, Sara. Sara was a freshman, and she transferred to a different school a couple of weeks after people found out. I was praised, but Sara...people didn't treat her very well, and nothing I said could stop it." I stayed silent for a moment while I watched him. And then I glanced back at Sara, still passed out. I didn't even know what to say. I turned my head to the windshield and tried to keep my face smooth. Oliver sighed, and I could feel his eyes on me. When I glanced over at him, he tried to smile, but he just looked very...sad. It broke my heart a little bit, and I fought the urge to touch him, to put my hand on his cheek and feel him. Instead I looked away, focusing on the town passing by my window.

I guess I wasn't the only one with some dark secrets.

Tags:

@boo-ritz-radley@olicityforeverqueen @ljanies@newyorkinlove @adiwriting @boo-ritz-radley@bytemegeekette @sarcastic1515 @sandycakes24 @tragically-irrelevant @glittercupcakedreams @standingontheedge-ofme@ymeanidem @sailorchibimoonunicorn @embroidered-fiction@seaolicity @smoak-me @dopecycleblaze @mrsd923@flailykermit @niki-is-amazing @alex-wesley @bandanab310@felicityqueenforever @smkkbert @myhauntedblacksoul@mrsbubblelee @nuksu @not-done-fighting @hopeful-warrior@pleasedontletmedownx @hear-the-banshee-screaming@siriuslyobsessedfangirl @coal000 @alwaysmyownvoice@morganmaybaby @marniforolicity @elizasbodega@albinoturdqueen @olicityfluv @motoughismylife@velvetsteel @almondblossomme @hope-for-olicity@charlinert @geemarie @memcjo @oliverfel4

[starryeyed-char]

Close Call ~PART 4 (final)

Read these first!!!!!! Part 1 Part 2 Part 3

Catch this fic on AO3

It’s about Lance and Keith getting captured and separated, with an injured Lance. For a better summary go to the first part… I’m lazy.

Finally! The last part!

…pssst @dogsahoy @voltronpaella @taylor-tut I can now stop sliding these across the table- this is the end!

I wanted to try doing something with multiple parts to celebrate VLD’s anniversary (the first part went up on the 10th)… and I can’t believe how well received this was! Thanks so much to everyone who’s given me such kind feedback!! I’ve got lots of plans for future writing, so hopefully you can look forward to that and not be too sad that this is over now? I hope you like the way I ended it… enjoy!!

Lance tumbled out of the healing pod like he did so many other things; without warning. The others were sat around the room when suddenly the walls of the pod disappeared, and the blue paladin fell forward. He would’ve face-planted into the floor of the infirmary if Hunk hadn’t been there to catch him.

He looked around in confusion for a moment while his eyes adjusted to the bright lights, and met the gaze of his best friend.

“Hey, Hunk,” he smiled, voice raspy and uneven. “Miss me?”

Hunk sighed with relief, giving Lance a shaky grin of his own. “You know I did,” he admitted. “Don’t you dare scare me like that again. I was worried sick!”

Lance laughed, and let himself be wrapped up in one of Hunk’s signature, bone-crushing hugs. “Sorry,” he shrugged. “Guess I should be more careful. So, what’d I miss?” He looked around at the others with an expectant smile on his face, but it wavered quickly. The rest of the team all looked worse for the wear themselves.

Pidge’s eyes were red-rimmed and puffy, while Shiro looked even more worn down than usual. Allura and Coran both stood off to the side, with strained expressions of relief. Keith was leaning against the wall with his arms crossed, stoic and silent as usual, but Lance could see the bags under his eyes. In short, they all looked exhausted.

“Um… you guys?” Lance asked uncertainly, voice catching. “Why all the grim looks? What’s wrong?”

Allura and Shiro exchanged a nervous look. “How much do you remember?” asked the princess.

“I remember…” Lance trailed off, eyes scanning the room for the person he’d missed. His gaze caught on Matt, who was standing in his periphery, in front of another pod. A wave of relief washed over him. “Matt. Sorry I missed the Holt sibling reunion, but it’s good to see you’re okay, dude.”

Matt gave Lance his own small smile, though he looked tired, too. “Right back at you.”

Lance turned back to Allura. “I remember being in the cell with Matt, and… not much else, if I’m honest,” he confessed. “Why? How long was I out for?”

“Not long, all things considered” Coran assured him. “About two weeks.”

“Two weeks?!” Lance practically shrieked. “Last time I was only in the pod for… what? A day or two, right?”

“Well,” Pidge piped up, adjusting her glasses. “Your injuries were pretty severe. You needed a lot of time to heal.” She cleared her throat, averting her eyes. “We were all pretty worried.”

“You’re lucky my blood’s O-negative,” Hunk muttered under his breath.

“Oh,” Lance said softly, momentarily at a loss for words. His grin returned quickly, though. “But I’m fine now! We can get back to business as usual. I bet I have a lot of training to catch up on, right, Allura?”

Despite his efforts to return things to normal, the team just exchanged looks full of thinly veiled concern. Lance couldn’t shake the feeling that there was something they weren’t telling him.

“We’re glad you’re feeling better Lance,” Shiro finally spoke. “But I think it’s best we get food in your system, first. Then you should probably rest.”

Lance laughed, trying to hide his discomfort. “Yeah, right. I just spent two weeks getting a ton of rest, and that green space goop? Disgusting. I think I might take Blue for a spin,” Lance declared, stretching his arms over his head. The others said nothing, just glanced anywhere but at him. “Jeez, what’s with all the moping? This must’ve been a pretty close call, huh?”

There was a beat of heavy silence.

“You were dead.”

Lance turned to face Keith in shock. The red paladin stood with his arms at his sides, fists clenched and shaking. Lance fidgeted under his glare. “Wh-what?”

“You died,” Keith repeated. “Your heart stopped beating.”

Shiro started towards him. “Keith, let’s just—”

“No!” Keith’s loud voice echoed in the empty infirmary. “I’m not going to just go back to pretending everything’s normal. I— I won’t! Nothing is normal! I… he could’ve…” Keith trailed off, looking at Lance. The mask of a smile on his face had given way to surprise, and hurt.

“Never mind,” Keith growled, whirling around. He stormed out of the room, and Lance watched him go.

Keith paced around his room, completely lost in thought.

He’d always been a man of action. Hopeless at voicing his thoughts, he tried to convey what he felt through doing. And most of the time, it blew up in his face. Sometimes literally.

Keith also prided himself on his ability to hide emotions. He had a habit of burying his feelings deep down inside himself, and not addressing them until he was ready to deal with them.

When he’d seen Lance bleeding out on the floor of that cell… he’d only allowed himself one second of panic. One second to be absolutely terrified, and then it was as if his body had been switched onto autopilot.

He’d picked Lance up off the floor, and began sprinting towards the red lion. He was vaguely aware of Hunk’s sobbing as he helped Matt up, saying to Keith that he’d get them both to the yellow lion. The yellow paladin always wore his emotions on his sleeve, for everybody to see. His cries echoed in the ears of the entire team, even as he said they should prep a pod.

Keith did his best to numb everything he felt, resolving to be upset later. To cry when Lance was safe. There was no time to waste. He flew back to the castle as fast as possible, and got Lance into the medbay before he could even fully process the situation. He watched as Allura used some complex Altean device, attempting to restart Lance’s pulse, and he helped get Lance into the pod after the heart-rate monitor finally started beeping again.

They all stood around the pod, and it was when Allura announced that Lance was going to live that Keith allowed himself to break down.

He collapsed onto the floor in front of the pod, sobbing. Lance would be okay. He’d live. And yet Keith couldn’t stop thinking of everything that could’ve gone differently. What he could’ve done to prevent Lance from getting injured in the first place. Or if he’d been even a minute later in finding him…

These were the thoughts that plagued his mind as he walked back and forth in his small room, and had stuck with him for the past two weeks. Keith couldn’t sleep, could barely eat. The image of Lance surrounded by a pool of his own blood, motionless and seeming devoid of life, refused to leave Keith’s head. He just kept… seeing it. Even though he knew Lance was okay, probably sleeping in his own room right now, Keith couldn’t help thinking what if he wasn’t.

Keith couldn’t help remembering that moment after putting Lance in the pod, when he realized that he was covered in the blue paladin’s blood.

He shook his head to clear it, resolving to go to the training deck. It wouldn’t get rid of the problem, but it would be a welcome distraction. He opened the door, only to reel back in surprise.

Lance stood before him, a fist raised and poised to knock. His eyes widened when he saw Keith, and immediately took several steps backwards into the hall. “Uh… hi,” he said, with a small wave.

Keith crossed his arms, instantly guarded. “What do you want, Lance?”

Lance flinched at the words, casting his gaze towards the floor. “I… came here to apologize. To you.”

Keith raised an eyebrow.

“You know… for messing up the mission,” he continued. “My actions got both of us captured, and I wanted to tell you that I’m sorry. I know you’re super mad at me, and I already told Shiro he shouldn’t send us on missions together anymore. The Galra wouldn’t have caught either of us if I’d just been paying attention. I should've—”

“Shut up.”

Lance winced, rubbing the back of his neck, then continued. “Look, it’s fine if you don’t want to speak to me, like, ever again. I just needed you to know that I know I really messed up, and that I’m really sor—”

“I said, shut up,” Keith repeated. “Stop talking.”

Lance clamped his mouth shut in surprise. Keith tried to ignore the hurt written across his face.

“You think…” Keith mentally cursed himself, unable to find the right words. “You think that I’m mad at you because we got captured?”

Lance shuffled from foot to foot awkwardly. “I… yeah?”

Keith pinched the bridge of his nose between his fingers. “Are you serious? You think I’m mad at you for ‘messing up the mission?'”

Lance sighed, looking mildly irritated. “Isn’t that what I just said?”

“I’m mad because you almost died, you idiot!” Keith practically shouted. “You nearly got yourself killed!”

“Oh,” was all Lance seemed capable of saying. “Right. That. Uh, sorry.”

“Stop apologizing!”

Lance stared back at Keith in shocked silence. Keith huffed.

“Look, I’m just… you saved my life, back there. You got hurt because you were too busy keeping me safe. You’re always keeping the rest of us safe, and putting yourself in danger because of it!” Keith ran a hand through his hair, looking away. “And it scares the hell out of me. You could’ve really died, Lance! You almost did! And it would’ve… it would’ve been all my fault.”

Keith looked back up, only to find Lance still staring at him, floored. He abruptly went back to looking at his feet.

“I also came here to thank you,” Lance said softly. “The others told me what you did. Without you, I wouldn’t have made it. You’ve saved me countless times, too, Keith.You know that, don’t you?”

Keith let out a short laugh, and Lance’s eyes brightened at the sound. “Guess we’re both too reckless for our own good, huh?”

“True,” Lance agreed, with a grin. “But it’s part of what makes us such a good team.”

Keith was once again reminded of how much he preferred actions to words, because he had absolutely no idea how to respond to that.

So instead, he just kissed Lance.

It was slightly awkward, or at least until Lance took control, which he did almost immediately, after the initial shock wore off. Keith had also accidentally pushed Lance up against the wall in the process, but he didn’t seem to mind. The immediate reaction from Lance made Keith think that he’d probably been waiting for this for ages. Then again, they both had.

“Jesus,” Lance muttered, once they’d broken apart, short of breath. “I should die more often.”

“If you do,” Keith threatened. “I’ll kill you myself.”

“I’d like to see you try,” Lance laughed. “You know you’d miss me too much.”

Keith seemed to ponder this for a second. “Yeah,” he admitted. “Yeah, I would.” And the two of them were kissing again.

The End

[the-roci]

the expanse dump 2.08 **here be spoilers**

10 seconds in and I’m dead, I’m literally dead… you’ve outdone yourself, the expanse. Outdone yourself, indeed.

Wait, no. that was supposed to be happy. How did that go so wrong so quickly! Can we talk about Terry’s eyes though? How do those eyes convey so much fucking emotion so quickly? That’s it, I’m sucker punching anyone who questions this casting.

Man, I live for Naomi putting herself between everyone and the Belters. And the look in her face, the conflict of being torn in two because you’ve got a foot in both doors. How do you pick a side? Everything that is happening with the Belters, is happening with Naomi, too. This is Naomi’s conflict. Of course she’s invested in what’s happening and is listening to the Belters. Just because we met her on the Cant doesn’t change the fact that she is a Belter – born and raised. Separating yourself from your roots doesn’t automatically cut off emotional connections you have. Especially when you’re back in the thick of things. Naomi’s reactions are authentic and the way Dom shows her internal conflict on her face, holy shit. This is tearing her apart.

I literally think I’m going to need to re-watch this episode because I’m hyperventilating about Prax to the point that I can’t pay attention to anything else. His concern for Mei is going to break my fucking heart. Holden lied, too! I know it’s not how this works, but there, they’re even.

Is Prax going to have to watch his friend die on top of everything else he’s been through? My life has literally prepped me for everyone dying. Oh, and and yep. There it is. Of course that happened. Of fucking course.

God damn, that’s fucking gruesome. Like, there aren’t many good ways to die, but that certainly ain’t one of them. Jesus. The growing tension between various belter factions and belters vs. inners is incredible. All these delicate threads holding people together are snapping and it seems like one wrong look from someone is going to make everything explode. And our fam is caught in the middle and sinking deeper with every decision they make –whether they mean to or not. And the best part is, it’s not black and white. No one is being framed as the bad guy. Just desperate people trying to make sense of their fears. And even those lines are blurred. Drummer and Dawes? Naomi and the Belters. Fred and Holden. The lines between fractions aren’t clear points in the ground and it makes everything feel so, so real.

Holden jumping to go to Ganymede, not knowing what he’s going to find there. Not knowing the emotional strain that’s going to hit him.

This! This is the Holden I want to see. Holden cares so damn much and the transition between Holden and Captain Holden aren’t translating on screen too well. I want soft Holden, Holden who acts because no one else will, and even if he makes the wrong decision, it’s because he tried to do something good – not because he’s this angry dude with his chest popped out. He just wants to help and keep the people around him safe. That’s who Naomi sees, that’s who she loves, and that’s who we deserve.

AHHHHHH. Alex and Prax. ALEX AND PRAX – THIS IS NOT A DRILL. Alright, I live for this shit. Tiny, insignificant moments between two people who are going to be working together/friends later. You think either one of them is going to remember that? Probably not, but we will, or I will, and it’s going to get me through the work day.

Drummer. How amazing is she? How great is that scene? Years of bullshit prepped me for her needless death, so the fact that she not only killed the two dudes who did that to her, but walked her own damn self to the medical unit is literally going to keep my plants watered for the rest of the year. It’s terrifying putting more and more trust into the team behind the Expanse, but they’re getting it, aren’t they? From owning up to killing LGBT+ characters on twitter, to giving Drummer agency, to allowing her to be this amazing character. I’m still scared, I’m waiting for the ball to drop, but man, I’m so happy.

Holy shit…holy shit…Amos —-and alex and amos. There’s so much to say, too much for this particular post, so I’ll sparknotes it. First off, Wes is killing it. Absolutely killing it. Just call him Mr. Hollow eyes because he seems so disassociated in this episode. I can’t find my remote, or I would rewind that bit a million times. Was Amos pleading with Alex not to push him? And ugh. “because then who would fly the plane?” C’mon. Tell me that doesn’t hit you in the center of your chest? The certainty of what Amos will do. And what it means to Alex, who literally is just trying to figure this dude out, and by figuring Amos out, maybe he's figuring himself out and his role on the ship (?) to get threatened, holy hell. Yeah, much more needed to be written about.

Okay, I’m happy the show is acknowledging that the Holden we’ve seen isn’t Holden. I wish we got to see more of that Holden instead of just brief glimpses, because it would make the audience better able to relate to Holden. Holden doesn’t want to be this dude. He hates this dude. He’s spent his entire life avoiding situations where he had to people around people like the person he’s become. And the shitty thing is, he doesn’t know how to stop being this person now that he’s had to assume the role. And it wasn’t even something he wanted to do. He became this person out of necessity, remained this person because it meant that Naomi, Amos, and Alex had the best chance of staying alive. Can you imagine the toll that must take on someone? And the fear of thinking that maybe you can’t come back to yourself because of all the things you’ve done out of your comfort level? But then there’s Naomi. And even though she’s angry and doesn’t agree with everything Holden had to say, she’s there for him. His beacon in the storm he’s found himself in and he’s going to find her. He’s going to find himself on his way to her. And that’s so freaking beautiful.

Okay, so I’m trying to distance myself from the books when I watch, and I think I’m doing a fairly good job, but this conversation between Fred and Holden isn’t sitting too well with me. Without the time that has passed in the books, and Holden actually working for Fred, Fred’s motives seem off? Anyone care to share their opinions about this scene? Fred is ambitious, sure, and some of his control slipped with Dawes sending the video, but this play for power against Holden doesn’t seem fitting. I wish I could find my remote to re-watch the scene. Need to pay closer attention during the next go around.

Hm, so Prax works for Strickland? I’m going to mull that over.

I could literally write pages about a few of these points, and you know what, maybe I will. I need everyone’s opinions about everything in this episode!

*edited for future reminders of what to write about.