#super happy with liquids expression giggling and kicking my feet

[zepuffer]

and maybe halfway through it has more to do with me killing him than it ever did protecting myself

[vannahfanfics]

The Healing Properties of Apple Beef Stew

Category: Romantic Fluff, Hurt and Comfort

Fandom: My Hero Academia

Characters: Ochako Uraraka, Eijirou Kirishima

Alternatum to The Healing Properties of Oolong Tea

Hey, everyone! I’m super happy to present my story for the KiriChako Event! 

Ochako bit down on her bottom lip as she rocked on her heels, nerves twisting her belly into tight pretzel knots. She worried her lip beneath her front teeth, tearing the delicate skin to smithereens but unable to stop. She clutched her cell phone tightly in her hand, her mother’s contact screen still up from where she’d just hung up the call. Tears beaded in her brown eyes as the tail end of their conversation rang hollowly in Ochako’s mind, coalescing into thick drops until they spilled over to roll down her ruddying cheeks. 

“It’s just a bout of pneumonia, darling. It’ll be just a short stay in the hospital—” Then her mother had erupted into a fit of hacking coughs, wet with mucus and infection. “Ooooh… Ahem, excuse me, darling. What was I saying? Oh, right. Don’t worry about me; focus on your hero training. I’ll be better before you know it!”

Though her mother had tried to sound positive for Ochako’s sake, Ochako could hear the weariness lacing her tone, and the nasally quality to her voice that indicated the severity of the infection. Ochako’s mother was climbing up in years after all, so severe pneumonia was nothing to be trifled with. The fact that she had to be hospitalized revealed how serious her condition had become, necessitating intravenous antibiotics. If she spiralled even more, she may even have to be intubated, and Ochako didn’t know if she could focus on training while her mother laid in a hospital bed with a tube breathing for her. 

Ochako struggled to get herself together, her sobs raking through her small frame. 

“Okay, Ochako,” she inhaled sharply, tossing her phone onto the bed so she could rub at her watery eyes with the heels of her palms. “Don’t freak out! Mom’s gonna be okay.” After rubbing at her eyes to staunch the tears, she gently slapped at her cheeks a few times. She closed her eyes, focusing on her breathing to ground herself. In, out, in, out, in, out. When she opened them again, she smiled weakly. She felt a little better, at least. 

“Still… I hate not being there,” she frowned, dropping one arm and tapping at her pursed lips with the index finger of another. “I can’t miss school to stay with her until she’s better, but surely Mr. Aizawa will sign a pass to let me visit her at the hospital for a little while. Oh, I know!” she grinned suddenly, launching herself onto her bed to retrieve her phone. Her fingers flew and scrolled across the screen as she avidly searched the depths of the web, beaming giddily and kicking her feet when she finally found what she was looking for. 

“A recipe for apple beef stew!” she declared triumphantly as she rolled onto her back. Apple beef stew was one of her mother’s favorite feel-good recipes; she’d always made it for a family member when they’d taken ill as a special treat. “I’m sure Mom would be super happy if I made it for her!” She pushed herself off the bed, still flipping through the recipe while worming into her shoes and throwing on her uniform jacket. She couldn’t make stew without the appropriate ingredients, and if she used her best puppy-dog eyes on Mr. Aizawa, surely she could make it to the grocery store before they closed for the evening!

About an hour later, Ochako stumbled into the dorm, her arms laden with two heavy brown shopping bags. Grunting from exertion, she toddled across the common room to the kitchen, attracting the attention of her classmates with her squeaks and huffs. This would have been so much easier if I could have used my Quirk! She thought frustratedly and slammed the bags down on the counter. She took a moment to catch her breath and wipe the sweat blooming on her forehead. Once her breathing had settled, she whirled on her heels to suddenly find herself face-to-chest with Eijirou!

“Oh! Hey, Eiji!” she cried, her voice several octaves higher than normal as she found herself intimately acquainted with his sizable pectorals, which weren’t exactly concealed by his loose-fitting muscle tank. The shark-toothed boy looked down at her with raised eyebrows, crunching a popsicle in his wicked jaws. 

“Whatcha doin’, ‘Chako?” 

“I’m making apple beef stew for my mom! She’s sick,” she answered. Her gaze was wandering now, trying to look anywhere but at Eijirou’s chest. He pouted sympathetically, but sensing her apparent discomfort, took a few steps back. Ochako found herself instantly relaxing muscles she hadn’t been aware of tensing, melting against the counter like putty. 

“Oh, I’m sorry to hear that.” 

“Yeah,” she said as she chewed on the inside of her cheek. “She was admitted to the hospital today for pneumonia… so I’m gonna bring it to her tomorrow to help cheer her up a bit.” Talking about it settled a cold core in her belly, so she turned around to begin unloading the groceries. She could feel Eijirou’s ruby-red eyes boring into her back, but he said nothing, only watched her arrange the vegetables and spices and meat along the counter space. Her hands faltered once she was finished, warmth rising to her cheeks like his stare was heating her up from the inside out. 

Yet it wasn’t… uncomfortable. The sadness lurked at the edge of her mind, threatening to drag her under as soon as it strayed too far from the shore. But if she had someone to keep her occupied… 

Shyly playing with the edges of the brown paper bag, she looked over her shoulder and said, “I’ve never made it before, so… if you want to, you can stick around and be my taste tester?” 

“Okay!” he grinned, his beam filling the room with light. It chased the beast of grief to the far reaches of Ochako’s mind, it huddled in the shadows where it could not reach her vulnerable heart. Eijirou’s smile was so infectious that she couldn’t help the way her lips curled up and a happy blush bloomed in her cheeks. 

“Okay!” she echoed in excitement. Eijirou scampered to her side, vermilion eyes sparkling as he inspected the boneless beef chuck roast wrapped in wax paper. He really does love meat, so I’m sure he must be very excited! Ochako thought with a small giggle, watching as Eijirou peeled up the corner of the wax paper to peek at the fat-marbled slab of meat. He trilled delightedly and jumped up and down on his toes. Ochako continued to smile at him out of the corners of her eyes while she melted butter in a skillet. It’s really cute. 

His eyes followed the beef when she tugged it across the counter so she could carefully unwrap it and plop it in the skillet. The meat sizzled and popped as it was coated with the hot butter, its pink flesh gradually turning brown as Ochako moved it around the pan with a spatula. 

“Eiji, would you mind slicing the carrots, dicing the onions, and peeling and cutting the apples into wedges?” 

“Sure thing!” he chirped, rolling up his sleeves before grabbing a cutting board and large knife and getting to work. Ochako peeked at him out of her peripheral vision and found herself blushing as her gaze fixated on his arm muscles bulging under his folded sleeve. With every rhythmic slicing movement, they flexed, straining the material. Hypnotized, Ochako watched until her face was glowing red hot. It was only when the sizzling of the meat reached a hiss that she gasped, hurriedly pushing it around with the spatula before it burned. 

What’s gotten into me? It’s just Eiji. She thought, cautiously looking over her shoulder at him. A content smile bloomed on his lips as he wedged the apples making Ochako’s heart flutter in her chest; Eijirou was so into hero work that it was hard to imagine him in a situation so domestic, and she fleetingly thought that he would make a good husband someday. She then released a squeak, disgusted at herself for thinking that way about him. Ochako, control yourself! Eijirou was nice enough to help you, and you’re over here being lewd! On top of that, your mother is sick! You shouldn’t be thinking about stuff like that right now!

She slumped into the counter like a guilty dog, pink-faced as she avoided his gaze. She reached for the sliced onions blindly, not even wanting to run the risk of accidentally looking at him, but overshot. She straightened like a rod as her fingertips brushed his wrist, and she could feel the muscle tense when he looked at her inquisitively. 

“What’s up?” Oh, his expression was so innocent, and Ochako was having such dirty thoughts, like how nice it would be to hold his hand. Steam practically billowed from her ears as she swayed in place, brain liquefying. 

“S-s-sorry… I meant to grab the onions,” she laughed nervously, scooping them up and plopping them into the pot. She then snatched up the jug of apple juice and the measuring cup of water to add them to the mix, still laughing anxiously and trying to play it off. Eijirou’s eyebrow slowly inched up his forehead as she chortled a little too long, making her choke on her laughs and clam up. 

“Uh… Ochako, are you all right?” 

“Of course, why?” she asked innocently as the water and apple juice spilled over the edge of the pan. “Oh my gosh!” she exclaimed as the liquid splashed down onto the hot stovetop. It popped instantly, sending boiling-hot droplets spraying across her forearm. She recoiled with a shout, dropping the spatula and stumbling back while clutching her stinging arm. Eijirou jumped forward to push the skillet back onto the stove by the handle, as Ochako had yanked it back and left it teetering precariously on the edge, before grabbing Ochako. 

“Are you okay? Let me see!” he insisted, peeling her fingers off her arm to reveal inflamed spots of swollen pink-red flesh dotting her inner forearm. Ochako whimpered as the burns hit the air, making the sting rise in intensity. Tears beaded on her lashes, but she refused to cry over something so silly, breathing rapidly through her nose to fight the urge. “They aren’t bad, but we should probably treat it,” he frowned, leaning close to inspect the pattern of burns. Ochako’s hair stood on end as his breath ghosted over her skin, not only because it somewhat soothed the burning.

“W-wait,” she said as he stood and began leading her out of the kitchen. “I have to add the spices and let the stew simmer for an hour…” 

“I’ll take care of it,” he insisted with narrowed eyes. Under Ochako’s instruction, he tied up bay leaves, allspice, and cloves in some cheesecloth and added it to the pan, then reduced the heat to allow the stew to simmer. He then marched right back over and grabbed Ochako’s uninjured wrist, all but dragging her to the bathroom. She wasn’t sure whether to focus on the pain shooting up and down her arm or how serious he was right now (and how attractive that made him). 

He made Ochako run cool water over her burn while he rummaged around the medicine cabinet for burn cream and bandages. Her eyes were lidded as she watched the water stream from the faucet and coat her arm, running over the pinkened skin in rivulets. Guilt coiled in her belly like a cobra, seeping venom into her veins. As Eijrou returned to pull her arm from the water and pat it dry, she mumbled a meek, “I’m a bad person…” 

“What?” he laughed, looking at her in amusement. “Ochako, what are you talking about? You just got a burn.” 

“It’s not that,” she sighed, deflating against the sink counter. A small heat rose to her cheeks as she mulled on whether or not she should explain something so embarrassing, but she’d already brought it up. “My mom is in the hospital battling a pretty serious illness, and instead of focusing on making her favorite feel-good dish, I’m thinking about…” she trailed off as the remorse surged up within her, spilling over in the form of the tears. The thick drops rolled down her cheeks and coalesced on the bottom of her chin before dripping down onto her burned arm. “I-I’m thinking about… y-y-y-you…” 

He blinked in confusion, his mouth slowly falling open. Though Ochako yearned to hide her face, somehow she couldn’t tear her gaze away from his face, so she watched the blush creep up his neck to spread over his cheeks to the tips of his ears. He cleared his throat, eyes rolling to look up at the ceiling, and chuckled nervously. 

“M-me? Wh-what do you mean?” 

“It doesn’t matter!” she wailed, slapping the middle of her good arm over her eyes. “My mom’s sick and I’m being selfish! I’m a bad person!” 

She dissolved into petulant sniffles, muffled by her arm as she smeared the tears over her skin. Eijirou was silent, which made the guilt and embarrassment reach a boil in her belly. She’d probably put him in an awkward situation by voicing her apparent crush. Even now, she was more concerned about him than her mother. She really was an awful, no-good— 

She sucked in a breath when she felt his lips brush over the burns on her arm. She wrenched her other arm away to see him leaned over, pressing feather-light kisses to the tender flesh; he was looking up at her with glittering red eyes, a hint of a smile dancing over his mouth. She could only gape as he continued to kiss his way up to the final burn before tilting his head up, flashing her a beguiling smirk. 

“Ochako, you’re not a bad person,” he said softly. Perhaps it was the way he was looking at her, or how hypnotic his ruby-red eyes were, but Ochako felt the cold flush of relief pulse through her system. She melted under his warm stare, a sheepish smile blooming on her lips. “I know you’re the type to worry… but the fact that I could make you forget about your troubles for just a little while... That’s okay, you know?” 

“Really?” she asked quietly. He nodded as he straightened up, gently holding her arm as he stepped closer to her. His other hand rose to cup her cheek, and she instantly pressed into it, relishing the callouses rubbing against her soft skin and the warmth radiating from his palm. 

“Really,” he assured with another nod as his thumb gently traced small circles into her skin. He then took on a bashful hint. “You know, the fact that I made you feel better… it makes me really happy.” They blushed simultaneously, but again, Ochako couldn’t tear her eyes away from his simmering gaze. “I, uh… I like you a lot. You’re sweet, kind and beautiful. You light up the whole room when you smile, and everything you do is like magic to me.” As he showered her with compliments, a blush blossomed over her face. “I would really like to go out with you.” 

Ochako’s chest swelled and her throat constricted as affection and happiness welled up inside her, like a geyser ready to burst. The tears bubbled up again, spilling over her lashes and down her ruddying cheeks. Unable to speak aside from a small whimper, she nodded vigorously. Eijirou laughed at her cute display and leaned forward to press his forehead against hers. He glanced down at her lips, then back into her eyes, before shifting to press a soft, sweet kiss to her lips. Ochako’s eyes fluttered as she melted into the kiss, sugary-sweetness exploding over her nerves. He held it for a moment before pulling back, so much love and happiness swimming in his crimson eyes that it made tears well up in hers all over again. 

“You’re cute,” he laughed, thumbing her tears away. Ochako pouted at him. “That just makes you look even cuter,” he teased and swiped his index finger down her nose. He pulled away, grabbing the tub of burn cream off the counter. “All right, let’s get you fixed up.” 

With a tenderness so at odds with Eijirou’s brawn, he massaged burn cream into her wounds. He wrapped them up in soft gauze and pinned them in place, then flustered her by placing more airy kisses over the areas of the burns. As they walked back to the kitchen, he pestered her with surprise kisses and tickles until she was a squirmy, giggly mess in his arms trying half-heartedly to escape his onslaught of affection. 

The stew still had some time left to cook, so they made some sundaes (and a mess, flinging sprinkles and chopped nuts at each other) until the stew had come to a good simmer and the beef was succulently tender. Ochako added the apples and carrots, stirring them in the stew until they were decadently soft. 

“All right, it’s done!” she said. Eijirou rubbed his hands together elatedly, eyebrows wiggling as Ochako spooned up some of the stew and presented it to him. He immediately chomped down, making a show of slurping it up and popping his mouth off the spoon before chewing on the beef and apples with a considering look. He then beamed and gave her two thumbs-up. 

“That’s delicious!” 

“Really?” she grinned proudly. He nodded excitedly before surging forward to wrap her up in a bear hug. She squealed and kicked her legs, holding his shoulders as he spun her around the kitchen a few times. 

“Your mom’s gonna love it! I’m almost jealous,” he pouted after setting her down but still holding her hips. “It’s so delicious.” 

“Relax, Eiji, there’s plenty for you,” she giggled, turning around in his grip to retrieve some bowls and spoons. He snuggled into her, resting his chin on her shoulder, as she spooned some of the stew into the bowls. She also sampled it for herself, smiling as the warm sweet and savory flavor exploded over her tongue and sent comfortable heat blooming in her belly. It really was such a feel-good meal, steeped with pleasant nostalgia. 

It was funny— Ochako hadn’t even intended it, but she felt healed just by making it. Of course, she was sure that her caring new boyfriend had at least a little something to do with that.

Enjoy this oneshot? Feel free to peruse my Table of Contents!

[scottishhellhound]

Okay so this was brought on by a conversation I had with @hyperactive-lectiophile about what might happen if Wally, being the genius chemist he is, the guy that recreated the exact conditions that gave Barry his abilities, decided to one day try and create something that would allow him to get drunk.

I'm not sure if this is what either of us originally had in mind, but this is how it went, Haha.

Pairing: Birdflash

Characters: Dick Grayson, Wally West, Roy Harper.

Wordcount: 3100+ ( I really hope the read more tag works! I'm sorry if it doesn't 😭)

Green eyes danced with excitement as Wally nodded to himself, looking over his notes for the formula one more time. Making sure all his ingredients were there and the measurements were correct. He didn't want to risk messing this up. One, the result of slowing down his metabolism enough for his experiment to work could be....well bad would be putting it mildly. And two, he really didn't want to have to try and explain to his friends and family his reasoning for wanting to try this. He was in college, it was just part of the experience, so why not?

Formula and ingredients confirmed, he set his list aside and reaching up with the other hand lowered his goggles over his eyes, an excited grin rapidly spreading across his face.

"This is going to be awesome!"

Several hours later

Dick chuckled, from his position upside down on the sofa, as Roy 'boo'd' at the screen, throwing a handful of popcorn alongside Garfield and Victor. They'd made it a challenge to throw popcorn at the screen everytime the villain was referred to as a monster, once it was said more than 6 times in the first 10 minutes. They were on their third bowl of popcorn already, and they were only halfway through.

He started when he felt his phone buzzing in his pocket, and reached for it. "Hey guys, pause this for a sec, will ya. Incoming phone call."

He waited a moment while Gar scrambled for the remote, quietly laughing when he answered, "Hello?"

"Hi, I'm sorry to be calling so late, but, is this Dick Grayson?"

Dick's eyes narrowed in suspicion, and he used his free hand to balance his weight as he kicked his legs and up into a one handed stand, before dropping his legs back to the floor and standing. "Not a problem man, and yup, that's me. Can I ask how you got this number though? It's not exactly advertised."

Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Victor already running a trace on the call.

"I have a rather drunk young man who dialed it for me, before he vanished back onto the dance floor."

Dick frowned. That didn't help.

"Drunk young man? Did they give you a name? What's he look like?"

If it wasn't for the fact that he was currently 4 months sober and sitting on the couch five feet from him, Dick would have immediately guessed Roy. But seeing his second best friend looking at him curiously from his cushion, that was ruled out.

His second thought was Jay. He knew his younger brother had a fake ID, a rebellious streak, and looked older than his 15 years. And thanks to a steady influx of good nutrition for 3 years, growth spurts and puberty had finally hit Jason. A fact that the second Robin was immensely pleased about.

Luckily Roy was on his same thought train and had his phone out, texting quickly, deft fingers flying over the screen.

"Not Jaybird. He's currently in Gotham chasing Penguin with DaddyBats."

Dick gave a silent thumbs up, mouthing back, 'Never call him that again,' and turned his attention back to the phone as the man on the other end started to speak. "No name, but he's tall, red hair, green eyes, and has more freckles than skin."

"That's Wal... wait, Wally's drunk!" Disbelief and fear sunk into the pit of everyone's stomachs at that exclamation.

"As a skunk." The bartender sighed over the line, frustration and empathy clear in his next words. "Look I don't care if you think I'm wrong, or pranking, or whatever, but you need to come collect your friend before I call the cops."

"Don't." Was Dick's panicked reply. He was already leaping over the back of the couch, Roy right behind him, as Garfield and Victor headed for the monitor room, to try and see if they could retrace their friends steps. See who had gotten to him. "I'm on my way. Where's your bar located?"

[[MORE]]

Dick and Roy pull up outside a small bar in New Yorks west end about 30 minutes later. Both jumped out of the car hurrying towards the entrance, hoping their friend was still contained within. They did not want to figure out the logistics behind how they were going to catch and then contain a drunk speedster if he'd managed to escape.

A bouncer met them at the door, holding a hand up to halt the line that was waiting, and waved the pair through.

"They gots him holed up in one of the back rooms. I'll show ya where."

"Thank you!" Dick didn't bother to hide how relieved he was over that, as he and Roy ducked under the burly man's arm and into the bar.

"He hasn't caused any trouble has he?" Roy asked, raising his voice to be heard over the heavy bass and loud chatter that always seemed to fill up places like this. He kept his hands stuffed into the pockets of his leather jacket, left hand spinning and twirling the sobriety chip he kept there.

"Nah, a little handsy, but more...friendly than trying for somethin' if you get my meanin'."

Dick nodded, a fond smile wiping away his worry for a moment. "Yeah, Walls always been a bit clingy."

As they followed the doorman through the bar, Dick nudged Roy's shoulder, raising a dark brow in a silent question.

Roy grinned back, giving a thumbs up, and pulling his chip out of his pocket briefly before replacing it.

Dick smiled back and threw an arm around his friends shoulder, giving him a quick, but heartfelt hug, before dropping his arm back to his side.

He appreciated Roy coming with him, knowing how hard this had to be for him. Especially after everything he'd been through to get to where he was now.

Roy nodded before tapping the shoulder of the bouncer gaining his attention. "So did anyone see anybody slip him something? Was he talkin' to anyone? Get in any fights?"

The man shook his head as he led then through a side door, opening into a well lit, empty hallway. "Not that anyone seen or mentioned. Boss asked around, just in case, ya know? Guy just came in, alone, sat his skinny ass at the bar, and started drinkin'." He let the door fall shut behind them, and the cacophony from the bar floor was cut in half, allowing them to speak without yelling. "Checked his tab, guys had 4 beer and about 5 shots of whiskey. I'm surprised he ain't passed out yet."

"Wally's always been a bit of a heavyweight when it comes to drinking." Dick lied easily as his mind tried to make sense of everything.

Wally's metabolism didn't allow for him to get drunk.

They tried one night after a bad mission.

Dick had had the worst hangover in his life to that point, Roy hadn't woken up until the following evening, and Wally acted as if he hadn't polished off a bottle of vodka on his own.

He ran a hand through his hair, tugging at the strands in frustration. He'd just have to ask Wally what'd happened. Once they got him somewhere safe to sober up.

"I'll say. Haven't seen anyone put the drink away like that in a long time. Anyway second door on the left." He jabbed a thumb over his shoulder, indicating which door to go through. "We left one of our girls in there with him, make sure he stayed put. Send her back out will you"

"Will do."

"Good. You can take him out the back door there. The boss said you squared up with him already."

"Yeah, sent him cash on the drive over. Thanks again for not calling the cops."

"Guy was harmless enough. If alla our drunks were like him, they wouldn't need us, so we don't mind bein' nice nows and again. "

He waved as he walked back out into the bar, the sound echoing down the empty hall before cutting off again once the door closed.

Roy clapped him on the shoulder once before making his way towards the aforementioned door. "Well let's go get your speedster and get the hell outta here."

"Right."

The sight that greeted Dick and Roy had the red head chuckling, hiding a laugh behind his hand. The poor waitress looked bored out of her mind, as Wally waxed poetic about something, hand motions and open expressions being thrown everywhere.

The waitress looked up as they entered, eyes zeroing in on Dick as he stepped in behind Roy.

"Well hey there, sugar," she turned back to Wally tapping his knee and pointing over his shoulder. "Here's your big chance. Nothing like some liquid courage to help love along right?"

Both men gave her a confused look, but didn't get a chance to question her, because at that exact moment, Wally looked over his shoulder and spotted them.

"Roy! Dickie!"

"Hey there Wall-oof!" Dick grunted as he suddenly had an armful of a very happily drunk redhead, face buried into his neck, giggles being muffled into his shoulder. He looked over at Roy, only to scowl when he found the other man with his phone out, recording everything.

"Thanks Harper, super helpful." He pat's Wally's head, sighing as the man continues to giggle into his neck.

"Anytime Dickie, happy to help."

The scraping of chair legs across cement brings their attention back to the waitress as she stands, smoothing her skirt down her legs. "Well you boys seem to have him well in hand." She walked over to where the three stood in the door way, hips swaying gently as she approached the door. She twisted between them and as she passed gave Dick a small smile and a giggled, "Good luck," before slipping out the door.

"What was that about?"

Roy shrugged, turning his phone back to Dick, grinning as the younger man scowled at him. "Who knows. Come on wonder-boy, let's get him outta here."

"Fine." Dick sighed before he poked Wally's forehead, trying to get the taller man to raise his head. "Hey Walls, come on man. Let's get you home okay. "

He felt Wally nod agaisnt his shoulder before he stiffened and stood straight, looking down at Dick like he just remembered he was there.

"Dick?"

"Yeah...Wally you okay, man?"

The taller man nodded, head bobbing wildly, like a bobble head in the middle of a high speed chase.

"Uh-huh, but...Dick, Dickie, I gotta tell you something real quick!"

"Okay, but can it wait until we get you outside? You're drunk and that shouldn't be possible."

He ignored Roy's snickering next to him as Wally seemed to become even more nervous and agitated. "Nope, it's important!"

"Okay, okay Wally. What is it?"

Wally took a deep breath and squeezed his eyes shut, as if waiting for a punch to the face. "I...I have a really big crush on you!"

Roy slapped a hand over his mouth, shoulders twitching and the hand holding his phone shaking, as he tried to contain his laughter.

Dick could feel his own lips start to twitch as he stared at Wally. He gripped the red heads shoulder, shaking him lightly. He waited until Wally cracked one eye open to look at him before saying, "Walls, we're dating."

"We are!!?!"

"Yes, we have been for the last two years."

"Oh... that's good then."

Wally seemed a little lost after that, unsure of what to do or say, now that his proclamation wasn't as climactic as he'd apparently been hoping for.

Dick reached up and ran a hand through Wally's hair, getting his attention. "Wally. Do you remember how you got here?"

Wally tilted his head, partially because he seemed confused, but he was also chasing the feeling of Dick's fingers in his hair. "Mmm, walked."

Dick smiled at the slightly dopey look on his face. "That's good, do you remember if anyone gave you anything on the way here, or before?"

"No one gave m'anythin'. Oh well the guy at the bar gave me my drinks...is that what you meant?"

"No, baby, you're drunk." Dick smiled a bit through his worry at the way Wally's face was crinkled up in thought. Trying to put his usually sharp mind into some kind of order. "You can't get drunk, remember, so we're trying to see if someone-"

"I can get drunk! Or I can now."

"What?" His question was echoed by Roy, who was for some reason still recording this who debacle.

And Wally grinned, clearly proud of himself. " I made a form...formu... I made something to help me get drunk!"

Roy was back to laughing and Dick could feel a tightness forming between his eyes.

"That's, that's great, Wally. Why don't you tell us all about it in the car on the way home, okay?"

"Okay!"

Roy held the door open as Dick, with a hand at the small of Wally's back guided him through it, keeping a hand raised ready to catch him if he tripped.

Which he did.

Several times as the alcohol was finally making itself fully known, affecting the speedsters ability to walk upright.

Dick sighed as he caught Wally's arm, keeping him from tripping into the alley wall as the exited outv the back of the bar.

He tossed an annoyed look at Roy, as he pulled Wally's arm over his shoulder, sinking a bit as Wally rested most of his weight on him. "You gonna help, Harper? Or just play Scorsese for the rest of the night?"

Roy just grinned as he zoomed in on the cross look on his friend's face, ignoring the excellent impression of bat glare he was recieving. It's affect lessened by the fact that Wally was now poking at Dick's cheek, giggling softly to himself.

"You seem to have everything under control. Besides," he turned his phone to focus on Wally now, taking in the flush on his cheeks and the haze in normally bright green eyes. "You know he'd be upset if this wasn't recorded so he could study it later."

Dick was silent as he finally got both of Wally's feet moving in the same direction, and led him towards the car. He groaned and let his head drop. "Dammit, you're right."

"I'm always right, Grayson. When are you just gonna give in and accept it?"

"When pigs fly...or if Raven ever says yes to go on a date with Garfield."

"Ouch. Words hurt, ya know." But Roy's smiling when he finally turns off the phone and steps up to Wally's free side taking his other arm.

Dick laughs and tugs Wally's arm further over his shoulder, sighing a bit as Roy takes some of his taller boyfriends weight. "Zip it and help me get him in the car."

Roy laughed at the scene playing out in the back seat, from his position behind the wheel. His phone propped up on the dash, recording once again. It was partially because he knew Wally would want the data, but also in part because he knew they'd never get to see Wally like this again, and it was adorable. He wished he'd been recording when they'd reached the car. It had taken Dick crawling in first and dragging the drunk redhead in after him, but they had finally gotten him into the vehicle

Once in the car, face tucked back into Dick's shoulder, Wally had seemed to slip into a semi-conscious state and alternated between nodding off and talking their ears off about formulas, melted beakers, and burnt tables.

"Although, that was technically because of a leaking hose, and not because I'd miscalculated."

"That's good, sweetheart." Dick just nodded along as Wally muttered into his shirt, fingers still carding through red hair as he listened.

Wally had just taken a breath to start in on something else when he went absolutely still.

"Wally what's wrong?"

"Oh God..."

"Wal? You gonna be sick?"

"We're dating?"

Roy watched the look of confused hurt flash across Dick's face in the rearview mirror, and started reaching for the phone.

"Yes? Wally, what-"

"I'm dating Batman's kid!" Wally's voice went up several octaves. "Batman is gonna kill me!"

Roy had to pull over he was laughing so hard, and he could hear Dick groaning a laugh as Wally continued to panic.

"Wally, babe, B isn't going to kill you."

"You don't know that!" He was sitting up, straddling Dick's waist, staring down at him in horror.

"Two years, Wally." Dick sat up and cradled Wally's face in his hands, kissing his forehead. "Don't you think, if he was going to kill you, he'd of done it by now?"

"That's just what he wants you to think! He's...he's a master of disintegration!"

Dick blinked up at him in confusion for a moment, "You mean deception?"

Wally nodded, "Yes, that! He's lulling me into a false sense of security!"

Roy managed to get his laughter under control enough to gasp out. "Bats don't kill."

Instead of easing Wally's fears that seemed to make it worse.

"You're right... he'll do something worse!"

Roy couldn't breathe he was laughing so hard, and he could hear Dick echoing him in the back seat, their combined laughter not quite drowning out Wally's ramblings as he came up with wilder and wilder things that Batman was going to do to him for dating his son.

Dick's laughter slowly faded as he saw how worked up and upset Wally was becoming. So he sat up fully and grabbed the back of his panicking boyfriend's neck, and pulled him into a brief kiss.

It worked and Wally's ramblings faded off.

"Dick?" Wally rested his forehead against Dick's when they finally pulled apart.

"Wally West, I love you with every fiber of my soul and I can promise you two things. "

Wally stared at him in awe, nodding his head.

"One, Bruce is not going to kill you, break your legs, sell you to Luthor for experimentation, or anything else. And two," he paused here for a moment, shifting his hand from his neck, to the side of his face, making sure Wally was looking right at him. "You are never, ever, ever drinking again. Got it?"

Wally nodded enthusiastically, head bobbing. "Got it!"

[milomeepit]

Diamond In The Rough: Chapter Six

Roman has always wanted better. Has always believed that there’s a better life, a better world, just out of reach. Just beyond the veil of shitty teachers who don’t care, angry classmates that scream insults and slurs at each other all day, and drug-hazed parents who are more concerned with their next hit than looking after their ten year old son.

When he runs away after a particularly bad night at home and finds a quiet little cafe/bookstore tucked away in a back alley of the city, the sweet couple who run the joint (an odd pair; a quiet, gloomy man with a wry sense of humour and a cynical gleam in his eye, and a bouncy man who smiles like sunshine and laughs like a storybook king) help show him that maybe- just maybe- he really can have the life he always dreamed of.

Masterpost (to be added soon!)

Word Count: 2786

Chapter Warnings: probably terribly translated Spanish and I’m Incredibly Sorry, insanely sappy couple, anxious child continues to be anxious, hygiene issues, food mention

It didn’t take long to finish closing up the cafe, and they were soon on their way home. Virgil was glad he’d already cleared out the backseat of Patton’s old blue sedan for the next lot of groceries, as it gave Roman space to sit without being crowded by bags and boxes of books. Roman, meanwhile, peered out the window curiously as they drove along, watching the trees and buildings lit up by the headlights of the car before they slipped past and disappeared into the darkness of the night.

Patton pulled into their apartment block’s parking lot, and was around to Roman’s door before Virgil could even unbuckle his seatbelt. He chuckled as his husband scooped up the small boy into another quick hug before setting him down and grabbing the box of leftover baked goods from the other seat.

Virgil led Roman across to the front door and upstairs, making sure to keep an eye on him in case he stumbled on the slightly uneven steps. Roman bounded up them effortlessly, though, his backpack bouncing against his shoulders as he scaled the staircase. Patton followed close behind them, carefully balancing the wide, thin box of pastries and biscuits, humming cheerfully.

Virgil... really wished he’d had a camera right then. When he unlocked and opened the front door, stepping back to let Roman enter first, he’d frozen at first. He took a couple of small steps over the threshold, eyes as wide as dinner plates as he looked around the living room.

Aesthetically speaking, it was very much a reflection of everything that they’d put into the cafe. Fairy lights were hung carefully around the edges of the room, and as Virgil reached across to the power point near the door, they flickered on; a warm, soft glow around the cozy space. The couches here did match, but the patches covering old repairs were a variety of colours and patterns- floral and rainbow and zigzag and galaxies peeking between the pale blue.

Roman looked over his shoulder. “This is your house?” He whispered, voice laced with excited disbelief.

“Sure is. Go on,” Virgil urged, putting a hand on his shoulder. “Have a look around, explore the apartment.”

“Mi casa es su casa!” Patton beamed, setting the box on a table near the door. “Come on, Ro, I’ll show you ar-”

“¿Tu hablas español?” Roman interrupted, snapping to look at Patton, mouth hanging open in surprise.

“¡Por supuesto! Mi mamá es cubana,” Patton clapped his hands together, clearly delighted.

Virgil couldn’t follow most of the rapid stream of Spanish that Roman babbled out, but between the adoring expression on his face as he gushed to Patton, and Patton’s sparkling eyes, he could tell that the two were bonding over their shared language. He knew bits and pieces; growing up with Patton, he’d picked up words and phrases- mostly curse words and sappy declarations of love- but it warmed his heart to see Patton so excited as they spoke.

“Patton, hon, should we finish showing Roman around?” Virgil smiled, reaching over to prod him gently in the arm.

“Oh! Oh, of course. Sorry, I guess we got a little distracted,” Patton giggled. “How about you show Ro around, and I’ll sort out some clean clothes for him? I think we still have some spare stuff from when your cousin and her kids stayed over.”

Virgil nodded. “Sure thing. Hey, kid, how’s it sound if I run you a bath and we get you some clean PJs?” He suggested, turning to face Roman again.

Roman paused for a moment, clinging to his worn red jacket, before nodding. “Um... yes, please,” He said softly as he slipped off his backpack and set it down by the front door, toeing off his shoes as he did so.

Virgil tousled his hair again before making his way into the bathroom, Roman trotting along behind him. He sat on the closed lid of the toilet as Virgil started running the bath, his legs swinging back and forth, his small socked feet drumming against the porcelain base.

“You can drop your dirty clothes over there when you hop in,” Virgil gestured towards the half-full launder hamper that hung from a hook on the wall. “Patton or I will wash ‘em and have ‘em back for you in the morning, alright?”

“Thank you,” Roman nodded, his eyes fixed on the basket.

Virgil watched him for a few seconds, as he added a dash of bubble bath liquid, a little thrown off by how still he was. This was the same kid who spent an hour and a half squealing with Patton about princes, right? The same kid who’d snapped right to teasing Virgil back when he’d poked playfully at how much he sang? “Hey, are you okay?” He asked. “You look like a helium balloon someone poked a hole in.”

Roman blinked, turning his head to meet his gaze. “Wh... why helium?”

“Because you’re squeaky, bouncy, and I’ve never seen anything bring you down,” Virgil reached over, tipping up his chin lightly. “What’s on your mind, short stack?”

“Oh. Nothing, I’m okay,” Roman shook his head.

Virgil raised an eyebrow wordlessly.

“No, for real this time!” He insisted, crossing his arms and sticking out his chin. “I just don’t wanna make a mess or anything. Especially since you have a nice house and stuff, I don’t want to ruin it... I guess.” He sagged a little as he spoke, the proud indignance melting into uncertainty.

“Kiddo, trust me, you don’t have to worry about that. We’re hardly super neat freaks, so you can chill. Even if anyone makes a mess- you, me, or Patton- we’ll just work together and tidy up. That’s what me and Pat’ve always done.”

Roman’s face twitched with an emotion Virgil didn’t quite recognize before he nodded again. “... Okay.” He hopped off the toilet, peering at the bathtub. “It’s kinda full, isn’t it gonna spill?”

Virgil gave a start, snapping around to lunge for the tap handles before it overflowed. “Gah-!” He twisted them around quickly to shut off the flow of water. “My bad. Nice save, kid,” He wheezed. “Patton would’ve kicked my butt if I flooded the bathroom again.”

“Again?” Roman’s eyes widened.

“No time for questions, you got a tub of steamy goodness to tend to.” Virgil clapped him lightly on the shoulder. “We’ll be just out in the living room, give a yell if you need anything, okay?”

Roman nodded once more. “Alright. Thanks.”

Virgil left the bathroom, shut the door behind him, then walked over to flop onto the couch. “Goblin prince is in the tub,” He announced as Patton appeared out of their bedroom, a bundle of clothing in his arms.

Patton swatted his shoulder. “Oh, knock it off!” He chided. “You adore him, I know you do.”

“I love nothing and nobody,” Virgil droned, slouching further into the couch cushions. “My heart is as cold as ice, hard as granite, untouched by anything on this mortal plane.”

Patton giggled, then leaned down to kiss his cheek. “Mm-hm. My big, strong, tough, badass man,” He teased.

“I said mortal plane. Angels like you don’t count, babe,” Virgil retorted, pulling Patton into his lap and dotting kisses across his face. He was rewarded with more peals of laughter, and couldn’t help the wide grin that appeared on his own face at the delightful sound.

“Hey, hey, easy!” Patton squeaked, his face flushed red as he giggled, squirming slightly in Virgil’s grip. “I’m gonna get hiccups if I laugh too hard!”

Virgil pulled him close, burying his face in Patton’s soft messy curls. “You’re adorable,” He hummed happily.

“And you’re a cutie pie,” Patton murmured, nuzzling close to his neck. “I love you, so much.”

“Really? How much?” Virgil’s voice took on a teasing lilt as he spoke.

“More than all the stars shine in the sky,” Patton answered immediately.

“Well, I love you more than the soft glow of an almost-full moon,” Virgil responded.

“I love you more than tiny hermit crabs in big, big shells.”

Virgil smiled at the mental image. “I love you more than copper windchimes.”

“I love you more than antique stores full of old tea sets.”

“I love you more than just-bloomed heather swaying in a summer breeze.”

Patton shivered a little, and Virgil laughed. “That’s practically cheating,” He mumbled.

“Does that mean you give up?”

“Never.” Patton shook his head, his curls brushing against Virgil’s face. “I love you more than smooth, pretty calligraphy done with real ink.”

“I love you more than fresh coffee with creamy milk and sugar.”

Patton was quiet for a moment as he thought. “I love you more than...” His eyes lit up. “I love you more than the yellowed pages of an old family recipe book!”

Virgil hissed through his teeth. “Alright, alright, you win this round, jelly bean,” He conceded.

Patton beamed, and his bright-as-sunshine smile sent a happy thrill through Virgil. "Yes!" He squealed happily.

“Um, excuse me?” Virgil twisted around to see Roman peeking out from the hallway, a towel clumsily wrapped around himself. “Um... sorry, but... um... can I have some help washing my hair?” He asked shyly, half-hiding behind the corner of the wall.

“Of course you can, sweetheart!” Patton cooed, bouncing to his feet. He pecked Virgil on the cheek before trotting over and offering a hand to Roman. “Let’s get those lovely locks soft and shiny, hm?”

Roman took his hand and giggled. “Thank you,” He said sweetly as he swung their joined hands.

“¡Eres muy bienvenido!” Patton tousled his slightly damp hair as he led Roman back into the bathroom. “Oooh, bubbles!”

Virgil grinned to himself. Patton sounded almost more excited about the bubbles than Roman seemed to be. It was little things like that that made Patton such a bright person to be around. His warm smile. His adorable, bubbly laugh. His kindness. The way he loved fiercely with all his heart. The way he loved people and pets and clouds and flowers and foods and smells and blankets and life.

While Virgil hated to sound like some cheesy romance movie cliche, Patton took his breath away, and he fell a little more in love with him every day.

“Hooooooon?” Patton called from the bathroom, breaking Virgil from his thoughts.

“Yeeeeaaaah?” Virgil pushed himself to his feet, already heading towards them as he responded. “What’s up?”

“Um... the shampoo bottle’s empty, and the new bottle is up on the top shelf, and...” Patton waved helplessly, stretched up on his tiptoes. His fingers just grazed the bottom of the shelf, a good couple of inches short of reaching the green bottle.

Virgil shook his head fondly. “Yeah, don’t worry, I got it,” He replied. He walked over to where Patton stood, easily grabbed the bottle, and handed it to the shorter man. “That all you guys need?”

Roman popped up from a pile of bubbles, his hair wet and his face flushed from the warmth of the water. “Virgil! Look!” He exclaimed as he scooped up a handful of bubbles, then blew on them, making the foam float around the room like snowflakes.

“Anybody would think you haven’t had a bubble bath before, kiddo,” Virgil leaned over to scoop up a palm full of bubbles and deposit them on top of Roman’s head.

“I haven’t!” Roman responded, practically vibrating as he scooped more bubbles up, squishing them between his hands. “This is so fun! And they’re so light and fluffy and soft! And they smell nice!”

Virgil felt Patton melt, without even looking in his direction. “Well, it’s an honour to be part of your first ever bubble bath experience, then, bud,” He nodded as he leaned back against the counter.

Roman giggled again. “Virgil es muy agradable, ¿verdad?” He asked Patton.

“El realmente es. Por eso me casé con él, después de todo.” Patton replied as he bobbed down next to the bathtub and started to lather up Roman’s hair.

“Hey, I may not know Spanish, but I know my name when I hear it,” Virgil complained, poking Patton gently with his toe. “What are you slandering my name with now?”

“All good things, all good things!” Patton assured him, then sent Roman a very obvious conspiratorial wink.

Virgil rolled his eyes. “Sure, sure. That’s what you said when you ripped Chloe Casiano to shreds in sophomore year.”

“She started it,” Patton shook his head as he scrubbed shampoo into Roman’s hair. He wrinkled his nose as his hands came away grey. “Gosh, Ro, hon, has it been a while since your hair’s been washed?”

“Um... I haven’t been able to have a proper shower in a while,” Roman answered, shrinking in on himself a little. “And Mom and Dad don’t really help me wash my hair, and I don’t like doing it because I always get soap in my eyes, and it stings a lot, and, um... yeah.”

“Aw, that’s okay, sweetheart, it’s not your fault!” Patton hummed. “Me and Virge will help you, and we can help you learn how to do it and not get it in your eyes. Sound good?”

“Mm-hm!”

“Perfect! Now, just tip your head back for me, sweetpea, and I’ll rinse your hair a bit and we’ll see how it looks, hm?”

Roman leaned his head back, and Patton scooped up water in the plastic cup that sat by the tap, then gently tipped it over his hair to rinse away some of the soap and grit and dirt. It looked so much lighter after that, and Virgil smiled.

“What, is your hair blonde under all that muck?” He joked, easing himself down to sit on the floor next to Patton.

“Uh-huh!” Roman chirped.

“Wait,” Virgil blinked, taken off guard. “Really?”

Sure enough, as Patton washed, rinsed, and then dried his hair, a poofy mess of curly blonde hair was revealed. Patton squealed as he ran his fingers through it, rambling excitedly. “Dios mío, eres tan lindo! ¡Nunca me hubiera imaginado que tu cabello fuera tan rizado!”

Roman blushed and shook his head stubbornly. “¡No soy lindo!” He argued.

“Muy lindo,” Virgil drawled. “Very, very cute and tiny. The smallest. A total shorty.”

“Pattoooon!” Roman whined, clinging to Patton’s sleeve. “I’m not that short, am I?”

“Well... I’m sure you’ll grow! You’re probably gonna end up taller than me, so!” Patton ruffled his hair lightly.

Roman groaned, sagging against him. “I'm nooooot!" He whined.

Patton giggled and wrapped his arms around him, pressing a kiss into his hair. "Aw, it's not so bad! Being small can be great! You can fit into small spaces, and you don't hit your head on low ceilings, and you can get piggybacks, and... there's a lot of really neat stuff!"

"Yeah, yeah," Roman grumbled half-heartedly, turning in Patton's arms and burying his face against his shirt.

Virgil grinned as he got to his feet and stretched. "Mm... you guys hungry? I think we have some pasta bake in the fridge still," He suggested.

"Sounds perfect, mi alma!" Patton beamed. "I'll go set the table while Ro gets dressed, then we can have some dinner!"

Roman nodded enthusiastically, pulling the towel tighter around himself. "Yes, please!"

Virgil gave them a thumbs up, then slipped out of the room. He made his way into the kitchen, humming to himself as he went. Patton popped in behind him as he slid the dish into the microwave.

“So...” Patton hummed as he fished cutlery out of the drawer under the coffeemaker. “We should probably start looking at where the poor lost little bird came from, huh?”

“Yeah,” Virgil agreed. “From what he said earlier, his parents aren’t exactly the most attentive, but I’m sure they’ve noticed he’s missing.” He twisted a dishcloth in his hands for a few seconds as he thought. Patton waited for him to continue, the soft hum of the microwave bridging the silence between them. “... I’ll start looking on Facebook and stuff in the morning. Maybe there’s one of those search party pages or whatever.”

Patton crossed the kitchen, wrapping his arms around Virgil in a hug. “And what do we do if we can’t find anything?” He asked softly, leaning his head against Virgil’s shoulder.

“I dunno,” Virgil admitted. “But I’m sure we’ll figure something out-”

“Virgiiiiil? I got my hair stuck in a button!” Roman whined from the other room.

“- And everything’ll be fine,” He finished, then pecked Patton on the forehead before heading towards the distressed boy. “Coming, bud! Try not to pull on it unless you want a bald patch!” He chuckled at the alarmed squawk he got in response as he ducked out the kitchen door.

[coolestqcumber]

Half a Heart (Linong - Nine Percent)

Word Count: Apprx 2.6k

It is not in the stars to hold our destiny but in ourselves. -Shakespeare

Soulmate!au

 This is it. He’s going to break up with me right now. “I’m gay.” You choked on your tea. While you had expected your soulmate to break up with you, you hadn’t foreseen it to be for this reason. Your now-ex-boyfriend winced at your reaction and patted you on the back as you attempted to cough the hot liquid out of your throat. You have always felt slightly off about your and Zhengting’s relationship. While he was sweet and doting, sparks never really seemed to fly between the two of you. And now you knew why.

 “It’s okay. I’m okay,” you rasped and waved him off. You downed the rest of your tea in one gulp and swiped your napkin across your mouth. You reached across the table and took his hand in yours. The matching heart tattoos shimmered gold on both your wrists, even under the dim romantic lighting of the cafe. “I’m sorry. It must’ve been so hard for you,” you murmured as you watched the hearts on your wrists dull to a plain black before half of it disappeared leaving behind an incomplete heart, the symbol of a severed soulmate bond.

 The origins of the soulmate bond was still a mystery to people, though there were some aspects of it figured out. When a person turns 18, their soulmate mark appears on their wrist (on the left wrist for guys and on the right for girls). The mark is a simple heart which is styled uniquely to match the one of your predestined significant other. And when you and your soulmate meet, the hearts would turn a sparkling gold: a complete soulmate bond.

 No one could figure out why the marks appeared or why the soulmate bonds existed. Over the centuries, scientists grew fed up with researching the phenomenon and let the rumors run wild. The most popular was a legend of how humans were created to be the playthings of the children of the gods above. The children loved to imagine their toys in a world of fairytales where there is a princess for every prince just waiting for him to sweep her off her feet and the soulmate bonds came into existence.

 Sounds romantic? No good things ever last. Eventually, the children grew up to be gods and goddesses themselves, no longer caring to play with their humans any longer. However, while they neglected their playthings, the grown children didn’t have the heart to destroy the toys had brought them so much joy in the past. So the soulmate bond was set on auto-run. As time went on, it seemed as if soulmates were no longer carefully selected to be the perfect match for one another, rather just randomly assigned.

 And humans eventually found that breaking the soulmate bond was possible. Nowadays, your soulmate was often your first love, but was hardly ever your last.

 “Sh!t! I wish I could stop crying. I used my fancy mascara today and it’s all going to waste,” you complained irritably into your phone’s speaker. You didn’t know why you were crying. You weren’t exactly sad. Just disappointed maybe, and a tad bit lonely.

 You pouted at the sound of giggling on the other side of the phone. “Chen Linong, are you laughing right now?!” you demanded, feeling offended by the lack of sympathy you were receiving from your best friend. “No?” the voice on the phone replied timidly. “And please stop pouting. The pout mixed with your crying face is almost too ugly for me to bear.” You were about to make a harsh retort about his face before you realized: wait, how did he know you were pouting?

 You looked up and there he was. Linong wore a soft smile on his face as he walked toward you, pushing his bike along with him. “Here.” He tossed you a small bag. There were makeup wipes and tissues inside. Linong sat down next to you on the park bench, and waited patiently for you to clean yourself up.

 When you were done, you sighed quietly and leaned your head against his shoulder. “This sucks,” you murmured. “What? The fact that you guys broke up?” Linong asks, wrapping a comforting arm around you. “No. The fact that he’s gay! And I didn’t know. Now I feel bad because I was holding him back because I didn’t want to break up with my soulmate. But now that I think about it, there were so many signs. I was just too selfish to admit it to myself.”

 “Yeah, you could definitely tell by the way he was eyeing up Kunkun during dance practices.” Your jaw dropped and you sat up straight, “You knew?! And you didn’t think to tell me?” “It’s not that easy-” You cut him off, “You literally could’ve been like ‘Hey y/n, your soulmate is gay and you should probably get yourself out of that relationship because it’s a waste of your time.”

 “That’s not what I meant. I’m just saying that it had to happen on your own time,” Linong said gently and you nodded your head understandingly. You sighed again. “Don’t worry. It’s not the end of the world. You’ll get over it soon.” You stared at the black mark on Linong’s wrist. “Yeah, I’ll get over it.” Linong took your hand in his and pulled you to stand up. “Come on, I’ll take you home.” You obediently followed Linong to his bike and hopped on, wrapping your arms securely around his waist.

 As Linong pedalled furiously down the sidewalks, he felt you sleepily lean against his back and his breath caught in his throat. The streets were silent, the only sound was the soft metallic clicks coming from the gears spinning on the bike. “I wish you were my soulmate,” you mumbled and Linong almost crashed the bike in surprise. “Do you mean that?” he asked, but you were already asleep. Even though he knew you probably didn’t mean it and you couldn’t hear him, Linong couldn’t help himself from replying with a quiet “me too.”

 The next few days were mostly spent indoors hanging out with Linong. The two of you were having a movie marathon, but the movie playing was being neglected in favor of a popcorn eating contest. A sharp knock at the door interrupted your fun.

 You tried to brush the crumbs off your face the best you could and answered the door. “Zhengting?” “Hey Y/n, I just came to pick up some of my stuff. I know I should’ve called- Oh hi Nongnong,” Zhengting greeted as Linong materialized at your side. You let your ex inside and followed him to your once-shared bedroom.

 It was a bit strange to be in the same room as someone you used to date, hug, and kiss. But at the same time, it also felt liberating to stand next to Zhengting and not be expected to do coupley things (he had always been super touchy while you were not particularly fond of it).

 “So are you and Linong official yet?” Zhengting asked casually collecting his belongings, interrupting your thoughts. “WHAT?! No! Where’d you get that idea from?” Zhengting glanced around your room and you followed his gaze. Zhengting strolled over to a picture frame filled with polaroids. “You don’t have any pictures of me in here even though I was your boyfriend for more than half a year, and yet he’s in every single one.” You shrugged, “That literally proves nothing. He’s my best friend.”

 He picked a random hoodie off the ground, “This isn’t mine, is it?” You shook your head, “It’s Nongnong’s.” Zhengting wore an expression as if to say ‘there you go!’ You huffed, “Best friends can wear each other’s clothes!”

 Zhengting sighed exasperatedly, “Okay, what about how you feel about him then?” You sighed heavily, “I don’t know. I guess...I just never thought about it before. I just don’t want to lose what we have between us right now; it feels-” “Comfortable,” Zhengting finished for you. “See, this is your problem. Y/n, you’re so stuck on feeling comfortable that you throw away all your chances of true happiness. You didn’t break up with me because you were comfortable in our relationship. But did it make you happy?”

 You were silent. Zhengting sighed and patted your shoulder as he moved to leave. “The poor guy has been waiting for-ever for you. Please don’t make him wait any longer. And please don’t make yourself wait anymore.”

 Stupid Zhengting. Ever he said those things about you and Linong, you felt like you couldn’t see him as the best friend you always knew. Now you were micro analyzing everything he was doing. Did he really like you? That was just crazy talk, right? Zhengting was probably just messing with you. You winced as you remember that one of Zhengting’s most defining traits was his honesty.

 Linong held open the door for you to the noodle shop. Was that a sign that he liked you? You groaned internally. This was hopeless. You were hopeless. This seriously needed to stop if you wanted to be normal in front of your best friend. The food the two of you ordered arrived, temporarily distracting you from your internal crisis.

 You blew at the fragrant steam rising from your bowl of noodles. You picked up your chopsticks and began eating. Your best friend teasing kicked your foot under the table and you looked up to glare at him. Linong grinned at the sight of your grumpy face with your mouth stuffed full of food.

 And, all of the sudden, Linong was just breathtakingly handsome. The corners of his eyes were crinkled with laughter, his lips were split in a wide smile, and his teeth seemed to wink at you under the fluorescent lights of the restaurant. Your mouth fell open because (damn) how had you not noticed before how hot your best friend was.

 However, when your jaw decided to unhinge itself, it did not account for the noodles you had been shoveling into it. And as soon as your trap opened, the contents fell out. It was probably a revolting sight. But Linong didn’t seem bothered by it. If anything, he laughed even harder.

 “Sorry, I...choked,” you managed to stutter out. Linong flashed you another heart stopping smile. “Just finish eating before your noodles get cold. And here-” Linong reached across the table to dab some soup from the corner of your mouth. He smiled yet again and your heart gave an uncomfortable squeeze in your chest. Was this what it felt like to fall in love?

 You were officially freaking out. For the rest of the evening, you tried to keep yourself from ogling at Linong. When you returned home, you had proceeded to look up everything about crushes on the Internet. Then, you had tossed and turned in your bed for the rest of the night, debating your entire existence.

 Confess? You didn’t want to be one of those shallow girls that just threw herself at a boy as soon as she had a slight interest. But was it just a “slight interest” though? Of course you had crushes before, but never like this. The rush of warmth you got today whenever Linong’s hand brushed against yours, or when he took care of you. Maybe you had always liked him but was too scared to admit it to yourself.

 When you had been with Zhengting, you always seemed to be pushing yourself to do things you wouldn’t have normally enjoyed. Meanwhile, around Linong, you never felt yourself straining to be...something you weren’t. You could just be unapologetically you and Linong would always accept you as you were.

 You pressed your face into your pillow and groaned. What were you going to do?

 “Hey…..hey!” you whispered harshly in Linong’s direction. When he turned towards you, you threw the crumpled up note to him. The paper hit Linong square in the face, knocking his glasses askew. You winced and mouthed a ‘sorry’ when he shot you an annoyed look and stuck his tongue out.

 You felt your heartbeat quicken as you watched him unfold the paper and read its contents. Like a hawk, you watched him scrawl something on the paper before throwing it to you without looking back.

 With trembling hands, you opened the paper and stared in open shock at what Linong wrote. Instead of choosing ‘yes or no’ , he had circled the ‘or’ in between. At the bottom of the paper, Linong had written “IS THAT ALL YOU GOT?” (yes, in all-caps). You looked up to find him already looking at you with his chair tilted back casually and smiling innocently. You flipped him off and Linong replied by blowing you a kiss. You flicked the imaginary kiss away and pretended to watch it sail off into the distance.

 Linong laughed and his chair, which had been balancing on two of its legs, slipped out from under him. Linong went down flailing, banging his head on the desk behind him in the process. The room went silent. The teacher sighed tiredly and sent Linong to the nurse’s office.

 You rushed to the nurse’s office as soon as class let out. “Oh my goodness, are you okay Nongnong?” you exclaimed when you saw him lying on the bed with an ice pack on his head. He groaned in response, letting you know he was alive. “Let’s just go home.”

 The nurse must’ve given him pain relievers that made people slightly loopy because Linong was more giggly than normal on the way home. Linong suddenly stopped and grabbed your shoulders, forcing you to face him. “Y/n, my answer is yes.” You wrinkle your brow in confusion, “What?”

 Linong huffed and rolled his eyes dramatically, “Yes! I like you.” He hugged you to his side and continued his ramblings. “I waited for such a long time for you! And then you confessed first. Imagine that! Even though it was kind of a trashy confession, I feel like I could die from happiness.”

 You crossed your arms and frowned at him, “I spent a lot of time planning that ‘trashy confession’ out. I scoured the web for at least an hour for ideas and then I spent the whole class waiting for the teacher to turn his back on the class to pass you that ‘trashy confession’.” You wiggled yourself out of Linong’s embrace and snarled, “I didn’t even get to take any notes in class today because of you and my ‘trashy confession.’”

 Linong leaned waaaaaay in, so that your faces were only a few centimeters apart. “Should I give you a reward for all your hard work?” he asked lowly. You gulped, not used to this side of your bestie who was normally all sunshine and no shade. He smiled and his intimidating aura morphing back to the innocent persona you were used to.

 He took your face between his hands and pressed his lips to your forehead. Your breath caught in your throat and you quickly hugged him around the waist. You bury your face in Linong’s chest, hiding the blush on your face.

 He pulled away from you and took your hand in his. Mystified, you stared down at your intertwined fingers and that’s when you noticed it. The incomplete halves of the soulmate marks on each of your wrists were pressed together, lining up to form a lopsided but complete heart. Linong’s half look faded and choppy, as if it had been scrawled onto his wrist with a crayon. Your mark was smooth with the stroke enlarging at the bottom, like it was drawn with a calligraphy pen. The heart wasn’t perfect. But love was never meant to be perfect anyways.

[ravengirl94]

Imagine: Taking Care of Sick Dean

Pairing: Dean x Reader

Word Count: 2,600

Warnings: illness I guess if that’s a warning. 

A/N: Bet you can guess where this little idea came from. I could just imagine Dean being so adorably pitiful when he was super sick and totally taking advantage of the snuggles. Sorry if it’s a little rough. Still fighting my own flu.

You had to suppress a giggle as Dean appeared in the kitchen doorway. He had the biggest frown you'd ever seen, a blanket wrapped around his shoulders, and bare feet. He was still in his pajamas.

"Hey there sleeping beauty," you said, still smiling at the sight of him. It was nearly noon, and he didn't look very happy to be awake. The smile vanished from your face as Dean spoke.

"I don't feel good," he said miserably, voice hoarse and raspy. He certainly didn't sound good. In fact, he sounded like he'd been gargling rocks.

"Oh honey," you exclaimed, pushing out of your chair to place a hand on his forehead, "you're burning up." You winced and took a step back as he began coughing, looking positively miserable. When he had finished, you took his arm and led him back down the hall to his room. "You need to stay in bed today, mister," you said as he collapsed back onto the mattress, face down. He mumbled something into his pillow, but you couldn't hear it. "What honey?"

"I said I might as well die in my own bed," Dean grumbled, rolling over and coughing again.

"Nobody's dying..." you said, propping him up against some pillows to help with the cough. "You stay right there. I'll take care of you." At that news, Dean gave you a weak smile.

"That sounds like fun," he said with a wink, "but we're both wearing too many clothes for that."  The combination of his inappropriate comment and his congested, hoarse voice was sort of comical, and you gave him a pitying look.

"Oh honey, you're adorable," you teased, smiling as you turned to the door.

"I'd like a cheeseburger and a beer!" He called after you, the effort sending him into another coughing fit.

He only grumbled a little when you came back with soup, a few bottles of water and some cough medicine you dug out of the cabinet.

"That is NOT beer," Dean complained, watching you measure out the dose of the foul smelling red medicine as he finished off his soup.

"It's cherry. You love cherry," you insisted, holding the small cup out to him.

"Yeah, when it's in pie..." He said, his face twisting in disgust as he sniffed at the thick liquid.

"Take your medicine you big baby," you ordered, cracking open a bottle of water as Dean finally conceded and took it like a shot. His face told you he definitely would have preferred whiskey. He groaned and choked and spluttered, and you never would have known that this man faced down monsters for a living. You passed him the water to wash it down and picked up his empty soup bowl.

"Where are you going?" Dean croaked, sounding a bit panicked.

"I'm going to clean up your lunch," you said, pausing in the doorway.

"You can't leave. I'm dying," he said, making the most pitiful face you'd ever seen. Your big strong hunter pouted up at you, giving you sad puppydog eyes, his expression practically begging you to stay. You laughed a little, rolling your eyes and setting the bowl back on the side table.

"If you get me sick, you really will die," you said, crawling onto the bed and settling against the headboard, "you're lucky you're cute." Dean just grinned, turning onto his side and resting his head in your lap. He hummed happily as you began running your fingers through his hair, letting your nails scratch gently against his scalp.

Within a few moments he was asleep, snoring softly against you. You tipped your head back, feeling sleepy yourself after a long morning of caring for Dean. The thought made you smile, and being careful not to wake him, you settled into a more comfortable position. Dean might be a big baby when he was sick, but you really loved being able to take care of him. Not to mention he got extra cuddly when one of you wasn't feeling good.

A quiet knock on the door roused you, and Sam appeared.

"How is he?" he whispered, glancing anxiously to Dean.

"Not great," you replied, fingers still running through Dean's hair, "we may have to drag him to the doctor. His cough is really bad."

"I know, I can hear it from across the bunker," Sam grumbled, crossing his arms, "you remember last time we tried to get him to the doctor, right?" You sighed and nodded, knowing that getting him to take cough medicine was nothing compared to the trial of getting Dean Winchester into a doctor's office. He liked to think he was invincible, that he could kick any illness or injury without medical help. He was the kind of person who would live with a cold for two weeks instead of taking medicine and getting over it in a few days.

"I'll handle it…" you said quietly, staring down at Dean. He looked so peaceful in his sleep, even if he was burning up. "He's got a fever too, Sam. He could have pneumonia or the flu or something. We have to try."

"Okay, but don't you go and get yourself sick too. I don't think I can deal with the both of you sick and cranky," Sam said, giving you half a smile.

"Love you too, Sam," you muttered, rolling your eyes.

A couple days later, Dean had not improved. His fever had only broken with medication, and you swore his cough sounded worse. So you and Sam began planning.

"Come on honey, up you get," you said, helping Dean to his feet and pulling his arm around your shoulders.

"Where are we going?" He asked with a sniff.

"You need to get out of your germ-y room. And I thought maybe seeing baby might make you feel better," you lied through your teeth, bringing him slowly towards the garage.

"I don't want her to see me like this," Dean replied, and you couldn't tell if he was being serious or not. You wouldn't put it past him to actually not want his car to 'see' him when he was this sick.

"I'm sure she'll understand, Dean," you reassured him, pulling him through the kitchen and into the garage. There was the impala, all sleek and gorgeous, and Dean sighed a little when he saw her. You tried not to be offended. You'd accepted from the very beginning that if you wanted Dean, you had to share him with baby. But your hunter had good instincts, even when he was so sick he could barely stand.

"Where's Sammy?" He asked suddenly, stopping in his tracks.

"I dunno. Probably in the library, why?" You asked, trying to deflect the question. That was when he glanced down at you, eyes going straight to your boots. You never bothered to put them on unless you were going out.

"Bring me back inside," Dean said slowly, green eyes narrowing at you.

"Get in the car, Dean," you said firmly, hand locking around his wrist.

"I am not going to the doctor! Bring me inside!" He demanded, trying to pull away from you. That was when Sam chose to appear, opening the rear passenger door of the car as you shoved Dean with all your might. But he was a lot bigger than you, and damn was all that muscle heavy. He broke from your grip, stumbling towards the kitchen door. Thankfully you were quicker than sick-Dean, and blocked the doorway.

"Dean Winchester!" you exclaimed, making him stop in his tracks. His chest was heaving, and from the way he gripped the workbench nearby, you knew he was likely dizzy as well. "You look like death, you sound like death, and I have no desire to speak to death anytime soon. So get into the damn car!" Dean glared at you for a long moment, red-rimmed eyes flashing with anger. Finally he relented, shoulders drooping and beckoning for you to come get him. You ran for him, sliding your arm around his waist and supporting him over to the car, where he got in with a muttered "at least he has a good taste in pizza." You didn't respond, sliding into the passenger seat as Sam got in and started the car. Dean slouched in his seat, head leaning against the window as you drove the few miles into town and over to the doctor's office. When Sam finally pulled into a spot, you turned around to look at Dean, who was glowering at the building in front of you.

"Are you going to behave?" You asked, raising an eyebrow and earning yourself another glare. "Good to know. Put on your shoes and your hoodie so you don't get even sicker," you said, pointing to the shoes and clothes on the seat next to him. You'd come prepared. Dean glared for another long moment, so you glanced down to your fingernails in feigned nonchalance as you leveled a threat at him. "Be good or I'm not sleeping with you for the next month."

Sam snorted in amusement as Dean stiffened in the back seat, staring at you in alarm. At least you'd gotten his attention.

"You wouldn't-"

"Try me."

Dean finally gave in, grabbing his boots and yanking on some socks. You and Sam got out of the car to wait for him, leaning against the hood.

"Threatening him with withholding sex," Sam mused with a grin, "a good way to get Dean to do just about anything."

"I don't like ultimatums like that," you muttered, pinching the bridge of your nose, "but I'm pretty sure that was the only way he would get out of the damn car." You glanced up as you heard the door open, and Dean pulled himself to his feet. He let you help him, slinging an arm across your shoulders as you led him across the parking lot and into the building.

"What, Sammy's coming too?" Dean complained, glancing back at his brother. As the three of you waited for the elevator.

"He's my backup muscle in case you try to make a break for it or faint or anything," you said flippantly, "and we're both getting flu shots while were here, just to be safe." Dean grumbled a little more under his breath as you got into the elevator. By the time you made it into the waiting room, he was pale and breathing hard, and you quickly eased him into a seat.

"My poor baby," you said sincerely, planting a kiss on his cheek. He half-heartedly swatted at you, but he didn't look angry anymore as you left him to check in at the front counter. Sam sat on one side of Dean, leaving an empty chair between them. He really didn't want to get sick. You didn't either, but Dean looked so miserable that you couldn't bear it. You sat right next to him, smiling as he leaned his head down to rest on your shoulder. He sighed a little when you slid an arm around him and ran your fingers through his short hair; definitely not mad at you anymore.

"Dean?" A nurse called, standing by the door leading to the exam rooms.

"Come on honey," you coaxed, helping Dean to his feet. He began coughing as the nurse led you down the hall and into one of the small rooms.

"I guess I don't need to ask why you're in today," the nurse said, trying to make light of the situation. Dean glared as he sat on the exam table, and you raised your eyebrows at him, silently telling him to behave.

"I'm dying," he croaked in response, making you roll your eyes.

"Well I certainly hope not," the nurse said, smiling kindly at the two of you, "I'll just get some vitals from you and then I'll send the doctor in, okay?" You watched as she took his blood pressure, which was surprisingly good, his heart rate and his temperature, which made you frown when it came back as 101. That couldn't be good at all. "The doctor will be right in. Feel better sweetie," the nurse said brightly, receiving only a grunt in response from Dean.

"I'm sorry I threatened you," you whispered to break up the tense silence after she had left. Dean raised his head from where he'd been staring down at his knees and shrugged. He looked exhausted, with bags under his eyes, and he wasn't being his typical goofball self, which was the true indicator that he felt like crap.

"Come on sweetheart we both know that you never would have followed through," he said, his voice hoarse as he grinned weakly at you.

"Then why the hell did you cave?" You asked, shocked.

"Because I saw how worried you've been about me. I don't like it when you're worried," Dean explained, looking away again as if he was embarrassed.

"I don't like it when you're sick or hurting and there's nothing I can do about it," you whispered, moving to lean against the table beside him.

"You've done plenty, baby," Dean said quietly, nuzzling his face against your shoulder.

"I thought you were pissed at me, you big jerk," you muttered, unable to hold back the smile spreading across your face.

"I could never be mad at you for taking care of me," Dean murmured, and when you turned to look at him, those emerald eyes were dead serious. The longer you looked, the hotter you felt and Dean's pupils quickly dilated as you squirmed a little.

"They better have some magical cure for you..." you muttered, tearing your gaze away before things could heat up any more. Dean just chuckled, but it turned into another coughing fit, and you rubbed his back until it subsided. He collapsed against you just as the door opened again and the doctor came in.

"Mr. Turner, how are you today?" He asked, glancing over Dean's chart. The guy was good looking in a way that shouldn't have been legal in the medical profession, and you looked away quickly.

"Like hell warmed over, doc," Dean grumbled.

"Yeah, I could hear your cough from down the hallway, doesn't sound so good. Mind if I take a listen?" He asked, flashing a grin of perfect straight white teeth. Dean pulled his sweatshirt off over his head, and the doctor used his stethoscope to listen to Dean take a number of deep breaths. When one of those deep breaths triggered more coughing, the doctor stepped away. You rubbed his back again as he groaned, finally able to stop coughing.

"I don't like the sound of those lungs," the doctor said, looking to you, "he has a fever too?"

"Yes. We've gotten it down with advil, but otherwise it's been around a hundred," you said, glancing at Dean, "I think the cold symptoms started Sunday, but Monday morning he had a cough and a fever. And it's definitely gotten worse."

"Sounds like you've got pneumonia," he said, confirming your suspicions, "we'll get you some antibiotics and something to help with the cough. If you're not any better by the time you finish the meds, come back in, alright?"

"Sounds good, doc," Dean mumbled, yanking his sweatshirt back on over his head.

"Good. Feel better, boss. If only for your girlfriend's sake," the doctor said kindly, flashing you a smile before vanishing back out the door. Dean scowled after him, leaving his hood over his head.

"What's wrong honey?" You asked, concerned.

"Stupid doctor... Flirting with a guy's girlfriend when he can't even breathe right..." Dean grumbled as he hopped to his feet, making you roll your eyes and laugh.

"Aww, baby don't worry. I still love you even when you have wheezy pneumonia lungs," you teased, standing on your toes to kiss his cheek.

"Promise?" Dean grunted, snagging your hand.

"You're my man, Dean."

Tags: @avengers4thewin @emoryhemsworth @ashleygee16 @dekahg @eileenlikesyou-maybe @fandommaniacx @summer-binging-spn @amoreagron @angelwingsandsupernaturalthings @supernatural-jackles