#the amount of sheer luck i’ll need on my side for this journey is actually not funny

[pink-lemonadefairy]

st pancras intl better watch its fucking back. they will never have seen a more organised, efficient, steadfast and focused traveler in their 155 years of service than me. i’m making eurostar my bitch.

[dancingthesambaa]

The Smell Of Plum Blossom Tea Ch 5

Summary: Just like a butterfly wing, a single act of kindness can change the course of the future, it certainly did for MK as a black-furred monkey put out a hand towards him.

Rating: Teen and up

Chapter 5: By Your Side

“Next is the bag of chips, why he likes pizza flavor I will never know,” Mac muttered as he pushed his cart through the aisles.

The two teenagers in his care, at this point Mei might as well be one of his, had opted out of the grocery trip and decided to do their own thing on the other side of town. Still well perfectly within hearing distance, but he smartly decided not to eavesdrop on their conversations, he would rather not have two very creative, and vengeful, kids out to get him.

After he had grabbed the bag of chips and placed it in with all the many, many items in the cart, some of them were not even for him and the two kids as his friends tend to make themselves at home at times. He feels like he should be charging his friends for the amount of stuff he gets for them no matter how rich he may be.

‘Who even needs this many ghost peppers, 3 bundles of apples, a bag of soft sponges, industrial nail filer, and a goddamn indestructible chew ball,’ he internally ranted in his head as he went through another aisle, ‘What am I, their parent?’ They have their own damn jobs!’ He then looked through some of their teas available and his nose scrunched up as he picked up a box of passion fruit tea. “Who the fuck even likes passion fruit tea? That shit is way too sweet,” he grumbled to himself.

“Well store bought ones usually don’t have that same ‘Oomph’ as homemade ones,” a deep voice said.

“You’re telling me,” Mac agreed as he side glance at the man who was reaching for one of the teas on the top shelf as he couldn’t contain his eye twitch. ‘Okay, been in this city for gods knows how long, and in the span of less than a year I managed to find ones that are descendants or reincarnation of most of the fucking crew. What the actual fuck is this sort of luck?! I know that there are historians willing to sell their soul for even a trace of this, so what kind of fucked up luck am I getting that I just stumbled upon them.’

“Hm,” he, the overgrown beast of a demon that shared too much resemblance to Sha Wujing, titled his head to him. “Is there something the matter?” His eyes widen as he tries to look over his body and pants, “Do I have cat hair on me?! I thought I managed to clean the last of it off before I left.”

“No, no,” he waved him off, “just thought you looked familiar, that’s all.”

“Oh well in that case,” the large man shifted his basket to his other hand and stuck out his right, “my name is Sandy, it’s nice to meet a fellow tea lover.”

Macaque stared at the hand for a bit before giving a small smirk and shaking it, “Name Macaque and right back at ya big lug.”

“Personally I like the Biluochun Tea,” Sandy said as he plucked up a box of Chamomile, “but unfortunately they have yet to fully bloom in my garden so I am making do with a substitute,” he joked.

“Then how about Kuding?” Mac recommended.

“I may like the taste of bitter, but I don’t want that to be my only taste,” he admitted.

“Well I think it’s pretty good.”

“Let me take a wild guess and say that you don’t like sweet things.”

“I only tolerate for my kiddos,” he mumbled as he put the box of Junshan Yinzhen Tea, he already had a batch of Kuding growing out in the garden, so there is little point in grabbing a weak ass store brand tea that held not even the same resemblance to how it truly tastes. He tried a box out of sheer curiosity and immediately chuck that so far away, that thing that called itself Kuding tea is a disgrace to the true masterpiece.

“You have kids,” the demon piped up as he walked alongside the monkey.

“Technically one, but with the number of times she stays over, I might as well claim that hellion,” he grumbled as the two goes out of the aisle and towards the meat.

“Awww, that’s sweet,” he put his hand to his very muscular chest, “the only little ones I have are my adorable cats,” he then proudly showed off his wallet which had an assortment of different kinds of cats.

“Cute,” he admitted as he took in the collection of cats, “was this an all at once thing or more of a gradual.”

“Oh some were gradual, others were in groups, and some was just picked up,” he said as he put up his wallet, “Like one day I come home and find Mimi, one of my older ones, carrying the most adorable blue kitten,” he began to tell his tale of Mo as the two continued their shopping together.

“I’ll be with you in just a moment,” Pigsy yelled out as he served a tray full of steaming hot noodles to his other customers.

“Man, this place is packed today,” Mac said as he took the only seat on the counter, which was by the entrance. The place was brimming with customers, either loitering outside waiting for their order or just chatting amicably inside.

“Yeah, lunch hour kicks my as-butt each time,” he had to suppress a groan and put on a customer service grin as he watched another group stroll in. “Be with you in a minute!”

“I thought you had some staff? I know the last time we came in, we saw a driver leaving with the food,” he asked as he straightened out his lavender dress covered with floral print.

“Well,” Pigsy said after he finished taking orders and began making the food, “I had to fire that lazy bum after he called off so many times, a few I get, but how does 4 out of the five days you work help?! And you still expect me to pay you for a full two weeks of service?” He grumbled harshly as he then took a few of the clean bowls out.

“Yikes,” Mac grimaced, “…want some help?”

The owner paused and sharply looked towards the monkey, “you offering?”

“Yeah, don’t really have anything better to do, besides,” he showed off two more clones, which barely made people bat an eye as they were too engrossed in their meals and phones, “I am basically a one man army.”

Pigsy looked so wistfully at that power and quickly asked, “are you any good at customer service?”

“I volunteer at a theater,” he raised an eyebrow.

“You're hired,” the shorter demon threw an apron at him, “you’ll get paid by the end of the day.”

“Instead of that, how bout next time I drop by, food is on the house?” He bargained as he put on the apron.

“Deal,” he instantly agreed and he could feel a wave of relief wash over him as he now could focus on cooking instead of everything at once. “Next time why don’t you talk to Tang about how free meals work, maybe then his lazy butt can finally start paying me.”

“Why don’t you just not give him free food?” Macaque smirked as he saw a faint blush on the pig’s face.

“Shut up,” he muttered.

The monkey said nothing more as he put the apron on, turned to the group of people that was just seated, took out a notepad, and gave his most theatrical smile “Welcome to Pigsy Noodles, what can I get started for you?”

“So anyway, I have been looking through some of the books that I saw in an antique store, and let me tell you that I scored the motherload!” Tang excitedly said as he talked beside the lake. “Guess what I happened to find.”

“What?” The creature prompted him as he casually floated in the water.

“You have money? You actually have a job,” the other being questioned, “and you still let Pigsy pay for your food?”

“It’s a journal that tells the tale of someone who got trapped in the spiritual world after a failed ritual!” He exclaimed as he steadfastly ignored the previous question.

“Pffftt,” he sputtered out a laugh.

“I don’t know about you but isn’t it usually a bad thing when someone gets trapped somewhere,” Macaque drawled out as he chewed on a plum as he stretched out on the grass with a baby monkey clinging onto him. Ní, who decided to chill in her rabbit form for some reason, also nodded as she laid down on the sunlight grass. “Also, you haven’t answered my question.”

“Well she obviously is alright since she wrote this book and all,” the historian tried to defend himself as he still didn’t answer.

“Surrree.”

“It’s true, you agree with me right Shu,” he turned to the water demon.

“Absolutely,” the Shui Gui cheekily said.

Tang shot a smirk at him.

“He agrees with anything he finds funny,” he rolled his eyes.

“Well anyway,” he took out the book and showed it to them, “this book illustrates how Chi-Chi journey through the treacherous parts of the realm, tricked many dangerous beings, gazed upon the beauty of the uncharted, and met so many spirits and immortals along the way!”

“Is that so,” Mac hummed.

“I would give an arm and a leg to meet an immortal or even a spirit,” he said unblinkingly then he went back to his fanboy mode, “I would have so many questions to ask them!”

The 2 immortal beings shared a look at each other as the monkey then put a hand over the spirit’s mouth to stop him from saying anything.

“Don’t you even think about it Kappa,” he warned him.

The drowned spirit just gave him a cheeky grin as he raised his webbed hands in the air.

“I swear,” Macaque grumbled as he put down his hand, “how the hell did the two of you even become friends?”

“He fed me some beef jerky,” he happily explained, “and that was the start of a beautiful friendship.”

“And he never once comments on why you always hang around the lake and not anywhere else?” He incredulously said.

“Nope!”

“Adrenaline junkie I swear.”

“You say something?” Tang called out as he paused his fanboy mode.

“Just talking about your obvious crush on Pigsy,” Mac facepalmed when the spirit just had to say that of all things.

“It’s not a crush!” Tang marched up to him with his ears redder than an apple, “Can’t someone just appreciate another person's attractive qualities?”

“Yes, yes you can,” he agreed.

“Good,” the fanatic crossed his arms, “then you can safely assume that-.”

“Butttt you have a fancy for the pig,” the spirit ended.

“NO I DO NOT!”

“The sheer irony is actually ridiculous,” Mac said to himself as he slowly petted the infant.

“Ooo oo,” the baby macaque cooed.

“No, you cannot eat my tail.”

“You know, I’m getting real tired of those idiots' constant fighting,” Macaque grumbled as he petted a very fat and very fluffy cat.

“Tell me about it,” Sandy nodded his head as he drank some tea. “They have been at it for almost the second they met each other.”

“I swear I am so close to just shoving them both in a closet alone and letting them deal with it.”

“Yeahhh, that might not work so well,” Sandy drawled out as he set down his cup.

“Why? Cause it won’t be right,” he mocked.

“Well there’s that, but also there’s the fact that it would absolutely do nothing at all and just lead to them bickering more,” he pointed out.

“You, unfortunately, have a point,” he slumped back as another cat crawled on top of him.

“Also, I may have already tried that.”

“Wait? Really?” He sat back up and looked at the blue demon’s sheepish expression.

“Let me just tell you that seeing it on t.v does not really work the same way as real life,” he still remembered how they were both mad at him for locking them in a room together.

“Tell me about it,” Mac already knows the pain as both MK and Mei went through this phase as they tried to do the most ridiculous stunts or experiment with dangerous chemicals. Luckily he managed to stop or save them in time, but there were a few times where he was preoccupied or just missed it. Let it be known that they both learned their lesson after breaking bones and a fierce rash all over their arms. He still doesn't know what they were trying to prove with the lacquer tree. “Oh yeah, how did it go with flicker the other day? Didn’t give you too much trouble?”

“Oh nothing I couldn’t handle,” Sandy smiled at the mention of his newest client, “Can’t tell you much cause of confidentiality and whatnot, but he is open to another session.”

The monkey nodded, “that’s good, Gods know he needs it, now if Raki was more amenable to the idea, but she is the most prideful person I know and that is including her husband.”

The blue demon winced, “yeahhh I can see how that might be a bit difficult.”

“You're telling me.”

“Focus,” Macaque yelled out as he nimbly dodged a flying kick, “remember that when you strike, you make sure that strike will be your last.”

Mei didn’t say a word as she growled at her missed shot and jumped towards him then fainted for an upward cut then quickly proceeded to go into a low roll as MK came up from behind with a high kick.

“Good plan you two,” he praised as he simply jumped above MK’s head and said, “but try going for a grapple next time, it would have been more effective to topple me over rather than try to catch me off guard in the air.”

MK flipped backward and attempted to grab onto his tail, which he quickly realized was a mistake as he felt the tail wrap around his arm and flung him to Mei, who was charging at him.

“If I was an unskilled fighter then that would have been quite an effective weakness to exploit, but it’s too bad I’m not,” he mocked the two as he caught Mei sword with one hand and MK escrima stick with the other and casually tossed them back to the edges of the tree line.

“Oh come on!/We almost had him!” Both teens yelled out as they simultaneously punched a tree in frustration, which left a handprint etched into the wood when they took it out.

Only Macaque noticed this as both of the kids elected to split off from each other and try to attack him from both sides. “Guess they have adapted quite well to my energy,” he mused as he watched them run towards him, “Probably should tell them to take it easy else they’ll break their bones, again.” He then easily began to dodge from both of their attacks as they gave it their all to finally hit the damn monkey.

And this how it continued, with both seventeen year olds working together to finally land a hit on the speedy monkey, only for it to fail every time.

“You're getting better,” he said as he looked down on the two exhausted teenagers trying to catch their breath.

“One day,” Mei took a long deep breath before continuing, “one day, I don’t know when, but one day I will punch that damn smug off your face.”

“Ditto,” MK raised his hand in the air then dropped it then pushed his loose hair out of his eyes.

Mei saw this and gave a faint snort, “you know I can help with your hair-”

“I’m not putting pigtails in my head again,” he deadpanned.

“Come on, I can even get fluffy to join.”

“How about no,” he bluntly said as handed them two cold water bottles, “take a breather breezy, starlight. We can resume in a few minutes.”

“Okayy,” they moaned out.

“Awww, but I bet you would look cute in pigtails,” they all turned to see Minsheng hop in with a few others as well, “I know there will be a lot of demons just willing to pay for a pic, just think of the money.”

“Remember the glitter,” Macaque growled out.

“The bunny paused and crossed their arms as their friends laughed behind him, “ Well I’m just saying.”

“It took them ages to get all that out,” Daiyu stated, it didn’t even come off until a full month has gone by, and yet they still found small patches in their fur.

“Almost killed him when he tried to hug me with that on him,” Bohai huffed as he glowed a bit at the horrible image of him even having a speck of that abomination on him.

“They looked like my gremlin’s arts and crafts masterpiece when they were five,” Yanyu chortled.

“It was indeed horrible,” Ahmed lowly chuckled out as he slowly trailed behind them all, then all demons, and adult human, in the vicinity paused.

“Oh right this,” the bluenette human almost hit herself at how quickly she forgot, “we did come here for a reason.”

“Voices gettin to ya,” the long-furred monkey easily asked the lion demon.

“They have been a bit annoying,” he gave a weak chuckle.

“I feel ya,” he turned to his kids, “go towards the tree line with the rest of them, it seems that class will have to be cut short.”

“Okay?” Both were very confused, but obliged by the demon words as they walked over to the group, only to be pulled back by Bohai. “Hey!/What?”

“Oh trust me,” the jellyfish demon said, “you do not want to be anywhere near Ahmed at the moment. He’s a bit...unhinged.”

“Him? But he’s a total softie,” Mei shot a look to him.

“He let Mei put ribbons in his mane,” MK added.

“Oh there’s no doubt about Med squishy heart, but there are times where he just has to cut loose, ya feel me,” the vulture just received confused looks.

“Just watch,” the bunny demon grinned and took out a bundle of golden carrots, and began to eat.

“What do you mean-,” she was cut off by Macauqe voice.

“Come at me you overgrown cat.”

They saw Ahmed give a grateful nod before he went on all four, not even caring about his messing up his robes, and his body started to spasm as he let out a fierce roar that made everyone in the vicinity cover their ears.

ROAAARRRRR

He then flickered out of view and the monkey quickly had both his arms crossed in front of him as a plume of dirt and dust gathered around him without warning. It was only when it was settled that the demons and humans saw that the once flat field now had a decent crater in the middle with both lion and monkey. Ahmed gave a low snarl as he saw that the monkey was not harmed.

“Aww baby cub claws not working,” he mocked him as he sent a hard kick to his jaw, “how bout I help ya there.”

He growled as he quickly grabbed the monkey’s leg and flung him to the ground, he gave a nasty grin as he saw blood trickle from his head.

“Wouldn’t get too cocky, haven’t you already tasted the blood trickling out of your jaw?”

The lion stilled as he tasted the metallic tang covering his tongue, he let out a low growl in frustration.

“First blood to me,” was all Mac had to say before the lion gave a roar and lunged at him, thus the fight beginning once more.

MK and Mei were stunned silent as they watch the vicious battle as each time Ahmed tried to throw an attack it would either get dodged or redirected, but if he did manage to land one blood was always shed. Macaque was the same way as each time he managed to strike him down they swore that they heard bones loudly breaking.

But neither side gave in.

“Terrifying right,” they were slightly startled by Yanyu’s voice and couldn’t help, but fall over as they saw, not only her, but everyone casually laying down and/or eating.

“Oh don’t give us that look,” Daiyu said as she hummed and watched the lion attempt to claw the monkey's eyes out, “it’s only some bloodshed, nothing major. Though it would be more thrilling if a certain spider bitch was involved, I would love to see her blood splattered out,” she lowly huffed.

“What she means to say is that Macaque has this well in hand, this isn’t his first time dealing with ol Meddy when he’s primal,” Bohai tried to comfort them.

“Primal?” MK questioned.

“Basically it’s when someone instinct takes over,” Minsheng explained as they munched on their carrot while watching Mac throw him harshly to the ground, “sometimes it’s a good thing like you stuck in a corner and you got a colony you need to protect behind you, it’s one hell of a boost let me tell you. Other times not so much.”

Both kids blinked at that lackluster answer.

“What they mean,” Bohai continued as they casually looked away from Ahmed sinking his teeth into Macaque shoulder, “is that other times the bad times, to put it bluntly, it’s when the voices get so loud that it begins to control your entire being until you finally get rid of it. If you're lucky, it can be as easy as sleeping, if not well,” he looked at where the six-eared monkey had ripped his shoulder away from Ahmed red stained fangs and proceeded to knock out a few teeth in retaliation. “That.”

“He becomes bloodthirsty,” Mei quietly says.

“Yeah,” Yanyu softly brought them down next to her as she gave them a bag of popcorn, “it’s not pretty, but he just has to let it out.”

“But why is Dad the one fighting him?! Why not any of you!” He half shouted in nervousness and anger as he looked towards the demons, specifically Daiyu.

“Well I don’t know about you, but I don’t have a death wish,” Bohai bluntly stated.

“Here here,” Sheng raised his hand.

“Tried that once and I was beaten in a minute flat,” the vulture huffed, “if Mackie wasn’t there then my body would have been a nice dinner to the rest of the wake.”

“Thus their first meeting,” the bunny added.

“Wait, Mac Mac first time meeting Ahmed was when he was beating the shit out of Daiyu and then to each other,” Mei asked.

“Yep,” they collectively said.

“And he is literally the only one able to fight against him?” MK questioned.”

“Yep,” they repeated.

Both teens took a glance as the monkey continued his vicious strikes against the lion, who attempted to decapitate his head every time, but each time he missed he instead decimated any boulders in the unfortunate vicinity into dust. The primal lion retaliated with his own thundering roar, but Macaque was fast enough to dodge the attacks that uprooted a grove of trees.

“Well there goes any small lingering doubts on how he was able to go toe to toe with the Monkey King,” Mei deadpanned as she slumped and stuffed her hand into the popcorn.

MK followed suit as he ate some popcorn, “you’re telling me.”

“He is kicking major monkey ass right now.”

“I am so happy that he is going easy on us,” the ponytail boy whispered out.

“Holy shit, no kidding,” she agreed, “just think, we could have been less than paste on the side of the road with a single hit if he actually tried to let loose with us.”

“Nahh, you don’t have to worry about that,” Min waved their worries off, “other than this, the only other time he actually lets loose is around his exes.”

“I’m sorry, his WHAT?!/Wait? WHAT?!” Mei and MK sat up as Mei continued, “what do you mean exes?!”

“Dad dated?!?!?” MK followed suit.

“Oh yeah,” Yanyu grinned, “I even met some of them, and let me tell you that he has horrible taste in partners.”

“I don’t think it’s his fault that most of them fall on the insane scale and not in a good way,” Bohai deadpanned.

“By insane you mean impulsive as shit that tries to fight anything that moves, then yeah,” Daiyu nodded.

“It’s weird hearing those words coming from you,” the adult human teased.

“Hey, I may like fighting, but even I have my own limits. His partners take the entire train and then the second one charging at em.”

“I’m still trying to wrap my head around Dad dating,” the seventeen year old muttered as he gripped his head as he looked towards the blood stained battle. “This I can get, but dating?”

“…I am so never gonna let this go,” a twinkle of mischievous appeared in Mei's eyes as she looked at them, “sooo if you had to guess, which one is his most insane, or worst, partner.”

“I have to say Hui, that scorpion bastard seemed nice enough, but she was a raging alcoholic that always tried to get into the celestial realm for some booze” Sheng started as they stuffed the rest of the carrot in their mouth.

“Ju. He was a fishy one, that turtle was always looking for his next meal, no matter where it came from,” Bohai grumbled.

“Might have something to do with nature,” Yanyu teased.

“Shut up.”

“Both of ya are brain dead if you forgot who really takes the crown,” the winged demon interjected.

“Who then?”

Daiyu and Yanyu just looked at each other before saying, “Lemur bitch.”

“Fair point,” both aquatic and land demons replied.

“Who?” Mei asked, but it was met with grimaced faces.

“Just,” Bohai began, “just pray you never meet him, Shun is-,” he was cut off by a loud yell.

SLAM

“WE DON’T TALK ABOUT HIM!” Macaque screeched while all his ears flared up, his eyes twitch violently with a wild look. “NEVER!” He repeated as he pressed his foot and staff on the lion’s back, who was just growling out and thrashing wildly under him.

“Yeahhh, let’s just say that after him, doc swore off on dating,” Yanyu sighed as she ate a handful of popcorn.

“But what did he do?” MK said as he was careful to avoid the name.

“Trust me, you don’t want to know.”

“But I really do,” Mei leaned in.

“No you don’t.”

“But I-,” she got a mouthful of popcorn stuffed in her mouth.

“You don’t,” Yanyu pulled back her hand, “now let’s watch them beat the shit out of each other. 20 on Mufasa knocking him out this time.”

“I’ll add to that,” Min added.

“Well I bet 25 that Dad will knock him out!” MK shouted, “there’s no way he’ll lose.”

“And I’ll double that,” Mei joined in after she swallowed the popcorn, “no way pops is losing to an overgrown cat!”

“Get ready to eat your words.”

“The only thing I’ll be eating is some delicious double truffle swirl ice cream with your money.”

“Let’s just see about that.”

(Minsheng soon regretted those words as both Mei and MK happily ate their ice cream alongside a bandaged, but still a very conscious monkey, and a bruised up lion who was contently knocked out.)

“And that should be the last of it,” the eighteen year old boy grinned as he then noticed a violet headband hanging next to a stuffed monkey, “whoops, can’t forget that.” He quickly snatched it up and proceeded to put his hair in a ponytail then began to look around his room.

The room, once filled with clothes spread all over the floor, glow in the dark stars on the ceiling, pictures and posters covering the walls, now laid bare with only a few boxes left to the side filled with them all. MK couldn’t stop the sad grin that formed on his face as he took in the sight of his room-old room, he was going to miss this, but he felt that it was time to move out and try living on his own for a while.

Knock Knock

“Sorry I’m not in right now, leave a message,” he jokingly said despite fully knowing who is on the other side.

The door swung open to reveal Macaque fondly rolling his eyes, “Where’d you get that snark from, I’ll never know.”

“Neither shall I.”

The monkey looked around the room, “so it looks like you're about done, you gonna bring it all over to Pigsy?”

“Most of it, yeah, but I have a separate pile I'm donating or giving to Yan munchkins,” he pointed to a few boxes titled ‘Donations’ and ‘Yanyu Gremlins.’

Mac smirked at the name as he gave a little walk around the bare room and noticed that where the bed used to be was a splatter of red paint and a dent in the wall, “huh, so how did this happen?”

MK froze as he saw what he was looking at and gave a nervous grin, “so remember when Mei was over and we had a bunch of paint for that art project.”

“The one about the deities or the one about nature?”

“Nature, and well remember how you found us covered in paint in here.”

“After I told you to keep it in the kitchen or outside so it won't be too hard to clean up, yes.” He deadpanned.

“And we did at first,” he put a finger up, “buttttt I left some of my materials in my room and it was alot, so Mei followed, but we kinda forgot that we still had wet paint all over us and we began to freak out. One thing led to another and Mei may have accidentally used too much force as she was panicking and let to the dent in the wall, which then made us panic even more, so we had the idea of moving the bed to cover the dent, which worked...except now the covers had paint on it and well....”

“Is how I found the both of you freaking out on the bed covered head to toe in paint,” the monkey snorted.

“In hindsight, we probably should have taken off our shoes before walking inside,” he scratched the back of his neck and sat against the wall opposing the window.

“That would have been a smart idea, took us ages to get it all cleaned,” he smirked as he sat beside him.

The teenager sighed as he looked out the window, “I'm gonna miss this.”

“Pfft, who says you can’t come back?” He playfully ruffled his head, “this isn’t a goodbye, but a see you later, you're always welcomed back home anytime.”

“Even if I screw it up time and time again,” he leaned into the touch.

“Even if you managed to wreck the whole country and have a bounty coming from the heavens that could feed nations for lifetimes,” Mac shot back.

MK laughed at the image, “Havoc in Heaven’s sequel, now with more monkeys.”

“And dragons,” the demon added.

“Mei would kick so much ass.”

“She absolutely would,” he chuckled as he continued to thread his fingers through his son's hair.

It was silent and, like so many times before, the two of them took only comfort from it.

“Dad,” MK quietly began.

“Yes comet.”

“… I’m scared,” he curled up into him, “like super duper scared and I have never left you ever since you saved-,”

“You would have-,” Macaque interjected.

“Saved,” he emphasized, “me and I can never thank you enough for just being there but I really want to do this and I really want to try to do things on my own! But I don’t know why I am so scared-wait I do, but it just so stupid and I can’t believe that I feel this way, cause you won’t just up and leave, but I-,” he stopped as he felt his Dad arms encircle him.

“It’s a scary step and I know change is terrifying, but I am so proud that you want to do this. It will be hard, no doubt, and at times it may seem like the whole world is against you, but know that you still have tomorrow waiting for you. So,” he tilted his son's head, “keep your head held high and look towards the stars, cause that right there is your limit starlight.”

MK smiled at his father's words.

“Also I think you may have forgotten something,” he showed off his six ears fluttering. “I have six ears for a reason, so if you ever need help or just need me, just call and-,”

“You’ll come running,” he grinned as he pushed himself further into the monkey's soft fur.

“And don’t you forget it,” he pushed his face into his son's hair and gave a soft kiss on top.

“I won’t,” he whispered out and clutched onto him tightly as both curled up in content.

[1wishyouwould]

Emptiness. That’s all there was. A shadow lay across Sam’s world, only briefly lit by fire. Then smoke descended again. He didn’t know how long it had been since his brother had died yet he knew, some how it had be 6 weeks 5 hours and 43 minutes since the world come undone around him. The silence wasn’t the worst part, the wrong noises were. The humming of off key metallic riffs and whispered curses still lingered in the empty bunker.

Walking the halls turned out to be the newest way to pass the time, a new game if that was what it could be called. Walk as far as possible, to fall on the floor, unable to bare the weight of a world, without his brother in it.

It took him weeks to be able to go in to his room again, but the smell of old beer was almost as bad as the blood he could never quite wash off his hands. So walk in he did heart in his stomach, and a miracle at his side. He walked. Because he had too. So when he found a box under his brothers bed, Sammy written across it in the block letters of a child. He was taken aback. The lock on the front was old yet it had been recently unlocked by the lack of dust surrounding the key hole.

Searching around the room led to nothing but old pornos, and half stale pizza slices. Until he looked up from grasping underneath the bed, at a confused looking mutt, with an oddly shaped tag dangling from its collar.

Sitting up, and festering for the dog to come closer, he carefully pulled the collar over miracles head. Attached was a generic dog tag, and a single key. “Always loved your mysteries” a choked sob came out of his mouth, muffled slightly by a hurriedly rubbing at his eyes.

Leaning against the end of the bed, he inspected the lock and key. A perfect match. Fitting the key in he turned, pausing only to shift in to a more comfortable position. The inside was filled with papers, nicknacks and assorted bullet casings. One letter sat on top of the rest, that seemed to be the most resent. It was signed to him in deans haphazard script and sealed with red wax. Opening the seal reveled a letter dated a few days before his brothers death. A last gift perhaps. - - - Hey Sammy you and I both know I’m shit at saying my words out loud, and heaven forbid I actually admit to like or care about something. But the thing is Sammy I do care about three things in this world. You, my baby, and Cas. But it will always be you first, thats why I made this box Sammy, its for you my last gift to you. If i’m dead. And we both know id never let you read this if I was alive, I want you to know a few things.

First: Im waiting for you Sammy no matter where I am, I’m waiting for you. Cause your my stupid ass little brother and I’ll always need you. I cant be happy anywhere with out you in it.

Second: Take care of yourself, I know you. You learned one of my worst character flaws “everything is my fault” Its not Sammy I don’t care how I went it would never be your fault. Find Eileen stop hunting for a bit and just live. Just live Sammy. Be a human and get stuck in grocery lines for insane amounts of time or drive your kid to school. Just don’t name him John and your all good.

Third: cut your hair you look like a damn Sasquatch.

I don't know if I will have the time to write any more letters. And I’ve rewritten this letter so many times. So since this is the last one I wrote before my death then here’s what’s just happened. Cas is gone. The empty came for him. Bobby, Charlie and even the damn miracle dog, their all gone. As I sit here writing to you Lucifer and Michel are having th staring contest to end all staring contests. Because I might be too busy trying to save the world again, from God.

So, if this does end up being the last letter, I just want you to know that I was in a bad place before I started hunting with you. And you helped me. You helped me Sammy, we’ve lost so much since I walked in your door all those years ago. Even if you didn't know what I was talking about. You in your weird striped pant thingy, and a girlfriend. Being with you made me not feel alone.

Because I know there are people who will say our lives didn’t happen, tell those sons of bitches how awesome I was. And there are people who will forget what it’s like to be normal when they get dragged along on the journey of being a hunter. I know our lives will be stories someday. And our pictures will become old photographs.

And you’ll be somebody's dad, because I can’t imagine a time where I die without saving you. But right now, these moments are not stories. These are our lives, our crazy demon, angel, monster filled lives. This is happening. We’re here. And as I look at this world so beautiful. And so broken. But it was Home. It was our Home. You, me, jack and that wonderful angel, following each other from heaven to hell, and everywhere and everything in-between.

And in this moment, standing against God himself, with little to no chance to survive but sheer dumb Winchester logic and luck. I would swear on my own soul.

We are infinite.

So get up off your ass, we’ll see each other again. Death hasn’t ever been able to keep us apart, even if there’s a new reaper I doubt that will change. But don’t worry I’ve got my hand full waiting for you. And I for one cant wait to see Kevin, and Charlie’s faces.

And besides I’ve got an Angel to run after.

Love your brother, Dean

- - -

After The tears slowed down long enough to read the letter once, he read it again. And again. Until the words could be read when he closed his eyes. Picking himself up, and off the floor, he walked towards the door, pulling on one of deans larger jackets on. Making his way slowly through the bunker, the dog at his heels, a silent companion.

Packing himself in to the drivers seat of the impala. He drove. Past hills and mountains, through valleys and towns. The same old mixtapes playing on repeat. And so the stories rose up. The tale of a man, searching for a woman. Who would stop at nothing to find her.

Hunters gathered around fires, in kitchens, and anywhere more than three could sit long enough to hear the tale of the Winchester brothers. The boys not even death could separate. The avenging angel, who would always come when called. And if you were lucky enough to find someone who knew them you could count yourself lucky, as not many that did lived to tell their tale.

It took time. Several thousand contacts. And mile after mile of the same road. But find her, he did. In an old run down dinner outside Chesapeake she waited. Together, tears shed for the ones lost along the way, old pains were dulled and almost forgotten. Except green eyes. Those would forever remain. Burned like a hand print in Sam's mind.

They settled down, and for once Sam got to be on the other end of the job. Instead of protecting people with guns and swords. He protected people with warm hugs and tender words. This life came almost easily to him. The routine distracting him from the ghost of almost forgotten smiles.

When his time came there was no fuss. Just a hand holding his. Dean. His sun, his son. The light that had been extinguished by the passing of his brother had come roaring back with a passion with the birth of his son.

His son.

Those simple words brought him so much joy. But sam knew. He could feel it. The end was here, and he wondered what might have happened if he had given up on that empty bedroom floor.

“You can go Dad its ok”

- - -

“Bitch”

“Dean”

[clareguilty]

Somewhere Safe Ch. 2

Read it here on the AO3 

Chapter 1

Rating: Gen/Teen | No Warnings Word Count: ~3000 Mandalorian & Reader & Baby Yoda

The Razor Crest was small, but not cramped. Untidy, but not dirty. Even if you had grounds to complain -- which you didn't -- you found you didn't really want to. You were off Tatooine, and that was enough for you.

 There was a tiny bunk just above eye level, and the Mandalorian gestured to it before climbing up to the cockpit. You didn't have much, but you stowed your gear and glanced around for a moment before climbing up after him.  You had only been on a ship once, many years ago, and it was not an experience you liked to dwell on. This time, you felt a spark of hope, a taste of freedom.

 A makeshift crib took up quite a bit of space in the cockpit, but the child slept soundly inside, so you made yourself comfortable with the little room that was left.

 "Strap in," the Mandalorian ordered, and you fumbled with the buckles while he prepared for takeoff.

 "Where are we going?" you asked.

 "Far from here." It was a good enough answer for you.

 Mando was quiet. Not silent by any means considering the amount of noise his armor made, but he didn't say a word to you for the first several hours of your journey. You watched Tatooine fade to nothingness, watched the endless expanse of space pass by. It was surreal to you, the idea of leaving behind that prison of a planet. You were no one again -- not that you were much of a someone yesterday, but now the meager life you had made for yourself was forgotten.

 The child stirred softly in his sleep and you reached over to rock his crib slowly. "What's his name?"

 Mando didn't say anything for a moment. He flipped a few switches and sat back in his chair. "He doesn't have one."

 "Doesn't have one?" you hissed. "You haven't even given him a name?"

 You glanced to the child once more and then turned back to Mando. "Actually, 'Mando Lorian', I don't think you should be given naming privileges. The child deserves better than that." You huffed.

 Mando's helmet cocked to one side, and he spun his chair to face you. "Oh," he questioned, "what would you call him, then?"

 You frowned at the crib. To be honest, you still weren't entirely sure what the child was.

 "Boda," you nodded. "I'd call him Boda."

 "That's a terrible name," Mando crossed his arms.

 "At least he'd have one," you leaned forward.

 Mando turned back to the controls, ignoring your satisfied smirk. You continued staring around the cockpit, trying to get a better understanding of your pilot.

 "Have you ever been to Naboo?" The question made you jump.

 "No. I've been on trapped Tatooine for years." You stared at your hands, remembering where you came from.

 "And before that?"

 Mando sure asked a lot of questions. Who would have thought a mysterious bounty hunter could be so nosy?

 "I was very young, but I grew up on Ryloth. I was taken to Tatooine before I could form any strong memories."

 "That's it?" Mando seemed surprised. You didn't blame him. He lived a life of nothing but adventure, planet to planet, job to job.

 "That's it. My entire life on two lonely planets in the Outer Rim." You tried not to let the scorn show in your voice, but Mando must have noticed it anyway.

 "You'll like Naboo. It's quite a ways away, but it's peaceful. Serene. You and the child will be safe there."

 "What about you?" You couldn't stop yourself from asking.

 "I have an obligation to my people." You wanted to question him further, but you weren't even sure what to ask. It was impossible to see through him.

 "How long? Until we get to Naboo?" You knew nothing about this planet. Would they accept you? Would you and the child be able to find a home there? What kind of work would you do?

 "A few days. We'll have to stop once before then -- on Socorro. You won't like it there."

 "How do you know?" you demanded. Mando seemed so sure of himself. You would like Naboo; you wouldn't like Socorro. You would live happily ever after with this child you found on the streets. His arrogance made your blood boil.

 "It's nothing but desert and criminals. Sand and lowlifes as far as the eye can see."

 "Oh," you wrinkled your nose in disgust. "Just like Tatooine. Let me guess: ruled by a disgusting slug king with a penchant for stealing children away from their homeworlds?"

 Mando turned to look at you. "Jabba? You knew him?"

 "Who doesn't?" you shrugged. "I'm one of many who were taken by him -- just a matter of sheer luck I managed to escape with my life."

 "Taken from Ryloth..." The pieces seemed to fall in place without you having to tell him. "I'm sorry that happened to you. You deserved better."

 You looked away. "I like to say it doesn't get to me very much." That was a lie and you both knew it. "Besides, I'm free now. I'll probably have to find a new line of work if I want to feed this little guy."

 "What were you doing on Tatooine?" Mando asked. More nosy questions.

 "Contract work."

 "Oh." You let Mando draw whatever conclusions he needed to.

 The conversation was beginning to weigh heavy on your heart, and you excused yourself to the fresher. You hadn't told anyone about your past, not for years. All that time in the desert, surviving one day to the next. You hadn't even had a friend since your time in Jabba's Palace. There was something easier about talking to a mask. A stranger who would never truly know you.

 You curled up on the bunk, trying to imagine what your life would be like now. The child depended on you. You would have to stay strong for him.

 -

 You woke to a hand on your arm. In a flash, you had drawn your knife and swiped at whoever dared try to touch you. A flurry of sparks filled your vision, and you scrambled backward as the gloved hand released you.

 Mando stood a few paces back, both hands raised. There was a thin scratch over his faceplate where your knife had glanced off the metal.

 "Sorry," you both said at the same time. Neither of you moved. Your knife still drawn, Mando's hands still raised.

 "We're still several hours from Socorro." Mando let you know. "The child is awake. I was wondering if you could watch him while I rest."

 "Oh," you finally put your knife away, "Sure."

 The child reached for you as you approached his crib, and you scooped him into your arms. It was strange, the pull you felt to this child. From the moment you laid eyes on him, something called out to you. You would protect him. "Did you get enough sleep?"

 "Pbbbt."

 "What even are you?" you bounced him gently. He gave no helpful response, so you dug around for anything edible that Mando left about.

 You wound up splitting a freeze-dried meal: three parts for you, one part for the child. "Are you going to miss your Baba?" you asked. "I hope I'm a good enough replacement for you.” Things would be hard. You would have to make a new life for yourself and this child, learn how to care for him, learn how to live on Naboo.

 The child sat calmly in your lap, playing with the necklace you gifted him.

 Things would turn out alright. You were sure of it somehow.

 -

 Socorro was - just as Mando had warned - a planet you hated from the moment your foot sunk into the loose sands. Clutching the child, you set after him into town. You didn’t have much money - just what you had intended to spend at the market on Tatooine, but you would need supplies for you and the child.

 Even on a strange planet, in an unfamiliar town, you felt safe. Mando was terrifying to the locals, and he cut a wide path through the market square. You held the child close, pointing things out to him as you passed by.

 "That's a brothel," you cooed to him, pointing out the low building with pipe smoke pouring out of the windows. "And that's a junkyard. Those are enforcers -- you don't want to get on their bad side."

 Mando hadn't told you what he needed in this place, but you had a list of your own. You tapped him on the shoulder as you passed a huge water pump in the center of the market. "I'm gonna go get what I need. Meet back here in a bit?"

 He didn't say anything, so you shrugged and headed off in the direction that looked most right.

 You didn't have much, and you weren't exactly sure what you would need when you got to Naboo, so you focused on the essentials. Portable power, medicines, sharpening your knives. You grabbed as much cheap, bland, non-perishable food as you could and then spent the last of your credits on a sweet for the kid. He picked out a skewered insect drizzled with sweet sap, and you tried not to look too disgusted as he gobbled it down.

 That's how Mando found you, sitting by the water pump with a bag of provisions and wiping the last bit of sap from the baby's chin. He slurped and then burped, coughing up a partially chewed bug leg.

 You stared at the Mandalorian, absolutely disgusted. "How old is this thing?"

 "Fifty years supposedly," he shrugged.

 Your heart stopped. If this child was fifty years old and it was still as small as it was, who was to say how long it would be before it was full-grown?

 "FIFT-" you caught yourself and dropped your voice to a hiss "fifty years?! I'll be long dead before it's even old enough to care for itself!"

 Mando didn't say anything. You shot to your feet, shoving the child into his arms and storming off towards the Razor Crest with your bag. You felt cheated somehow.

 He returned hours later. The solitude had been good for you -- even though you were still very pissed. You were glaring at the ceiling above the bunk when he came in, and you glanced at him before turning your gaze back to the faded scratch in the metal you had been watching for the last hour.

 "I'm going to set out for Naboo," he said.

 "Okay," you shrugged. Out of the corner of your eye you could see the child watching you, one of his hands weakly gripping Mando's sleeve.

 He climbed up to the cockpit, and you sighed in frustration. You should apologize, for something at least. Mando was giving you what you wanted, saving you from a desolate life on Tatooine -- and he wasn't even asking much of you. You turned to your side. You couldn't abandon the child. It needed you. And some indescribable feeling kept drawing you to him, to Mando too.

 You couldn't just walk up there and apologize. You had too much pride for that. Instead, you decided to take it upon yourself to clean the Razor Crest. The ship lifted off, and you waited until the roar of the atmosphere quelled to the strange silence of space.

 Mando climbed down just as you were organizing a pile of… stuff.

 "What did you do?" He demanded.

 "I didn't touch anything." You raised your hands. "I just wiped everything down and swept as best I could. It's not safe for the child to be around all this dust and scraps."

 Mando crossed his arms. "The child won't be here much longer. We'll be on Naboo in just a few days."

 "Well then, now it will be clean for the next one."

 -

 Mando heated up a few bowls of food -- one very small -- and forced you to stay in the cockpit while he ate. You rolled your eyes but climbed the ladder.

 He joined you several minutes later, helmet firmly in place.

 "Baba," the child called to him. Mando scooped him up, and he let out a squeal of delight. You couldn't fight your smile.

 "Would you come visit him?" you asked.

 Mando turned to look at the child, you could only imagine his expression. "If it's safe, then yes. I would like to see him again."

 "You'll always be welcome," you found yourself saying. Even worse, you realized you meant it. "He'll miss you."

 "It's what's best for him."

 "What's best for you?"

 Mando seemed shocked by the question. His helmet swiveled comically as he glanced around. "My people need me."

 "I'm sure they do." You leaned back in your seat. "You need them as well."

 "I don't need anyone." He lied. You snorted and rolled your eyes. Just because you couldn't see his face didn't mean it was hard to see how much he cared for the child.

 "I hope to see you happy one day." It was true. You didn't know Mando well, but you knew he deserved better than this life.

 "You think I'm not happy now?" he demanded.

 You gestured to your surroundings and made an unintelligible noise. "This doesn't look like the ship of a happy man."

 Mando stared out into the darkness. "I hope to see you happy, too."

 Unable to handle your own words being turned on you, you excused yourself to the fresher.

 -

 Mando woke you by dumping a large crate onto the shelf by your bunk. You didn't attack him this time, but you did glare at him as he continued loudly moving things around. "What's all this?" You eyed the crate warily.

 "Supplies for you and the child."

 "I already picked up a few things on the last planet," you said. Sure, you weren't going to turn down free stuff, but you didn't need his pity.

 "I want to make sure you have everything you need." Mando opened a cabinet and your eyes widened at the sheer amount of weapons he had. He must have picked them off his bounties.

 "You know how to use this?" he asked, holding up a… something.

 "No. I've never even seen one of those before. I can barely shoot a blaster as it is." You were most acquainted with your knives, and even then you weren't much good against opponents who were stronger than you, or faster than you, or bigger than you.

 You were basically useless in a fight, and you didn't want to admit that to Mando.

 He probably didn't need to be told anyways. He grabbed a small blaster and handed it to you. It was nicer than the one you had. You tucked it away in your things. "Thanks."

 "If I ever make it out to Naboo again, I'll teach you how to shoot." His voice was steady. You were caught off guard by the sincerity. You had never even had someone to protect you before, now Mando was offering to teach you how to protect yourself.

 "Can you teach me how to fly?" you asked. Stealing a speeder was one thing; piloting a ship seemed impossible to you. Mando made it look so simple, he knew the Razor Crest inside and out.

 He let out a heavy sigh beneath his helmet. "I'm sure you could find someone to teach you on Naboo."

 "Why can't you do it?"

 "I guess I could."

 You grinned to yourself. Turning to poke through the contents of the crate, a sense of dread crept up on you.

 You were going to miss Mando.

 He was going to leave you on this planet to fend for yourself -- nothing you hadn't dealt with before -- but you were going to miss him. You would worry about him. Ugh. You could see it already, lonely nights spent gazing longingly at the stars, worrying about this faceless hunk of beskar instead of living a long fulfilling life.

 It wasn't fair. You had wanted a new life, no strings attached. Now, not only did you have a kid to take care of (ignoring the fact that he probably would still be in diapers when you keeled over), you were going to miss Mando.

 "Are you alright?" He must have noticed you were having a bit of a crisis because he stepped nearer to you. Carefully, he placed a gloved hand on your shoulder.

 "I know this is a lot for you. I wish there was a way to make it easier. Things will be better on Naboo. I promise." You were used to Mando's kindness at this point. He was terrible at hiding it. What you weren't expecting was the way you relaxed under his touch, the way you turned and pressed your forehead to his chest plate.

 A few shuddering breaths and you were pushing back once more, putting space between you. "I'm sorry," you shook your head, "I should be stronger than this." If Mando didn't already think you were pathetic, there was surely no doubt in his mind now.

 He moved slowly, carefully. Not for him, but for you. He lifted your chin with the tips of his fingers, forcing you to look at his ever expressionless helmet. You could see the scratch you had made a few days ago when he tried to wake you.

 "You're strong enough. Stronger than most."

 You wanted to turn away, to hide your feelings as you always had. But Mando wouldn't let you.

[loraneldin]

Eight-Pack - Part 5

This part has gotten away from me but I like the result so shrugs

(Master post)

Clint can admit that he has enjoyed everything that has changed. Nat had her reservations, but no one has been stupid enough to try and patronize her. So she settled into the situation. And since that night, when Bucky practically radiated the need for closeness, all her walls have fallen.

The more the team has grown together, the more relaxed Bucky has gotten. Clint hasn’t said anything, but he feels the same. He could have lived the rest of his life being happy that he found Nat, and that she’d become his family, but this? This seemingly random group of people where he now can get cuddles whenever he needs them, and his shirt smells like home whenever he goes out (home as in his people, not home in the sense of the lady on the fabric softener package), and there is just this thrumming in his chest at any moment of the day saying that he doesn’t have to be alone? Yeah, that is awesome.

But Clint doesn’t say that. He doesn’t have to. He’s got it without ever asking for anything.

Which doesn’t mean that he doesn’t do his best to keep their dynamic going and avoid any trap falls. He firmly believes that they fit each other more than they all realize, but even he knows that relationships, families… packs need work. You can’t take them for granted.

So when the day promises to be a sunny one, and it looks like Bucky isn’t about to let Tony go to work anytime soon, and Clint knows that that will lead to Tony missing his sparring date with Steve, he does his best.

“Hey Buckster, want to go for ice cream?”

Bucky looks up from where he has put another pancake on Tony’s plate. “We just had breakfast.”

“But did we have ice cream?” Clint shoots back.

Tony is looking at the pancake as if it is about to attack him. “Maybe Clint wants the pancake?”

“You have a busy day and need the nourishment,” Bucky refuses the offer.

“And I want ice cream,” Clint adds. “I know the best place in the city.”

Bucky still looks at him like he is talking in tongues.

“And it’s a nice walk, which is totally healthy, and until we’re there, it’s probably noon… ish.”

Tony turns over his pancake as if it might be smaller from the other side before looking up at Bucky and shoving him with an elbow.

Clint decides it’s for the team and says, “Please?” It’s not as if he is asking for himself.

The way in which Bucky melts from that small word is either ridiculous or the sweetest thing Clint has ever seen. Before Bucky can think of any more objections, Clint says, “I’ll go get my wallet,” and runs out of the room.

After Bucky packed Tony some more pancakes as a snack and put the rest in the fridge, they are off to the city. Bucky asks several times where they are going, but Clint refuses to answer. He knows Bucky will want to take the subway because it’s much faster, but he agreed to walk there, so that’s what they are doing.

When they meet the first dog, and Clint is off to ask the owner if he can pet him, he only starts thinking how Bucky might react after he already said goodbye to dog and owner. He turns around before he can recognize the weight in his stomach as worry, but again Bucky is sporting that sappy smile, and Clint rolls his eyes. They get recognized a few times, and the camera flashes indicate that their photo will be online on some portal in half an hour. If it would have been Tony or Steve or Nat or Thor who had been seen with Bucky, it would fire up the talk about potential romance again. But Clint is a beta and therefore apparently not husband material for “America’s super alpha” as one outlet nicknamed Bucky.

It’s luck, really. This way, those few photos also stay the only ones.

It takes them a bit over an hour to get to their destination. Partly due to the distance and partly due to the sheer amount of dogs they meet. After the second time that Clint is allowed to pet one, he always finds that Bucky has been taking pictures and put them in the group chat. Tony asks if they have to get a puppy after the third photo, which gets echoed by six no’s.

When they come to the corner with the ice cream shop, it’s closed. There is an official note about health code violations.

“Aw, man.”

“Clint, be glad they’re closed.” Bucky is awfully reasonable. “You might have gotten food poisoning.”

“But the dark chocolate pistachio was totally worth it.” Clint can still taste it.

“Clint? Did you get sick from their ice cream before?” Bucky sounds either worried or horrified; Clint isn’t quite sure.

“There was no way to really tell what it was from after?” At least that is what Clint told himself. Nothing good in life comes without consequences.

Bucky turns away, bringing his hand to his face and making an ‘ugh’ sound. Clint kicks the stoop of the neighboring building. “It wouldn’t have made you sick. The serum won’t let it. I was sure.”

Bucky’s flesh hand comes up to Clint’s shoulder, turning him around. Lowering his head, Bucky makes eye-contact with him. “I’m not worried about me. But you can have awesome ice cream without risking your well-being.”

Clint swallows and gets wrapped up in Bucky’s arms right after. Stupid giant alpha super soldier physique. Clint disappears up to his nose in the hug and after a moment he relaxes against Bucky. Only after floating in the comforting alpha scent for a minute, does he realize that he probably reeked like rejected beta during their discussion. He has never been good at masking and controlling his scent, has had enough trouble because of it. Heat climbing on his face, he peels himself out of the embrace.

Before he can suggest anything to end the suffocating absence of a plan, Bucky says, “I asked the team what their favorite ice cream shop is.” His phone is repeatedly jingling with group chat notifications.

“You text while holding me? No fair.” Complaining is easy.

“Which has given us eight great suggestions for other ice cream shops. Three are from Tony. He apparently doesn’t know the meaning of ‘your favorite one’. I’ll tell him to pick one.”

“And then?”

Bucky grins at him. “We’ll put them to the test. Only one can be the chosen one.”

“Ice cream battle royal?” Cint can hear the awe in his own voice.

“If you’re up for it?” Bucky’s eyes are sparkling with some emotion.

“Are you kidding?”

They walk to the one that is only three blocks away. Bucky says they will only get one flavor each because they have to test five other shops after all. Clint complains for a minute just for the sake of it and then takes the black forest. Bucky asks the lady what she recommends and gets the macadamia white chocolate.

Clint’s eyes try to bulge out of his head when he gets the first taste of his. “This is incredible.”

Bucky laughs. “This is the first shop.”

“And probably the best. This is so delicious.”

The lady behind the counter laughs with Bucky, but Clint doesn’t care. He shoves his cone at Bucky. “Take a lick! It’s so good.”

Bucky draws up an eyebrow but doesn’t refuse. He nods at the taste and then offers his own to Clint. It’s not as good as the black forest, but Clint still can’t believe that any of the other shops can be that good.

“Let’s check out the next one, and then we can decide to go back here or test out the rest.”

Clint agrees, already planning which flavor try when they get back. They slowly walk to the subway station, while finishing their cones. They board the southbound train. “Whose suggestion was the last one?” Clint asks.

“Bruce,” Bucky says. “The next one is Nat’s.”

“Is it Spike's Ice Saloon?” Clint asks. He has been there with Nat, and it is good but not that good. They can turn back to shop number one right now in that case.

“No, it’s Frozen Jeremy’s,” Bucky answers. He looks at Clint with a mixture of surprise and amusement.

“She has kept an ice cream shop from me?” Several people look in their direction. Maybe Clint has gotten a little loud.

Bucky doesn’t answer but takes Clint’s hand. His mood cools down pretty fast. There is no chance that Nat’s shop is better than Bruce’s. And he will let her know that. Disloyal omega!

The shop is colorful in a loud way, and the flavors have names that don’t make any sense. After getting explanations on most of them Clint takes the “To bee or nut to bee”. Bucky asks for a recommendation again and gets “Eye of the tiger” which is orange with pancake bits and chocolate-covered coffee beans. Waiting for him to try his first, Clint is a little bit disappointed when Bucky nods approvingly. Without tasting his own, he grabs Bucky’s wrist and manages to get a bit with pancake. He doesn’t know what to say. It is actually good. Confused he licks his own. It’s even better.

Bucky grabs his shoulder, pulling him close. “It’s okay. You can get back at her later.”

They continue their journey. The group chat is pinging continuously with questions and everyone praising their own recommendation and telling them which flavor they need to try. Next on the list is Tony’s. It’s a small shop, but there is already a line, going down half the block. Bucky’s phone rings, and he answers on speakerphone.

“Hey, you two. Are you already at Brunelli’s?” Tony asks.

Clint answers, “Tony, all three of us know that you asked Jarvis to alarm you when we get here.”

“Well, I offered you the possibility of ignoring that. Anyhow, you need to get the chocolate; it’s perfect. You don’t need any of that fancy crap.”

Clint looks over to see how Bucky reacts to Tony describing anything as ‘fancy crap’, and to his deepest satisfaction, he is also laughing, silently.

“I sure hope it is because the queue is longer than one of Thor’s stories.”

“Well, that isn’t a problem,” Tony says and hangs up.

“Oh no.” Clint feels a slight panic rise up.

Bucky’s eyes have gone wide too. “You don’t think…”

But already they can see a young man with dark hair in a ponytail and an apron walk past the queue.

“You’re Tony’s friends?” he asks, still a small distance away. Clint stops in horror. They are going to get killed. By a mob. About ice cream.

People in the queue are already turning around to them but there is no heckling. Yet.

“Come on, follow me. Don’t worry, we do that regularly for friends and good customers. And the queue looks long, but we are serving fast.”

Clint isn’t convinced as people are definitely staring. Bucky takes his hand, and it’s reassuring, especially with him shielding part of the queue from Clint’s sight, but Clint only completely relaxes when one lady tells them that they deserve it for what they did last week in Central Park. The fight had been short but causing a lot of debris and fallen trees that needed cleaning up, and Tony and Steve decided it was a good first public appearance for Bucky to help with that. And they were right.

The man in the apron is Antonio of all names, and his grandparents opened the shop 35 years ago. He seems surprised but not perturbed when they only take one scoop each. Bucky gets the chocolate and Clint the stracciatella. It’s so good that Clint wants to cry. Antonio looks like he expected nothing less.

“It’s a common reaction. Enjoy the rest of your date.”

Clint and Bucky are out the door before Clint can freak out. Did Tony tell him that? Or was it the handholding? If it was a date, Clint thinks, it would be an awesome one. And they still have three ice cream shops to go.

“Which is next?” Clint asks before the silence can stretch too long.

“If we do Steve’s favorite next, we get a bit of a break.”

“Let me guess, it’s in Brooklyn.”

“Any comments on that?” Bucky asks pointedly.

“Noooo.” Clint enjoys the way Bucky’s face lights up at his sarcasm. They make their way to the nearest subway station and discuss for five minutes which is the better combination of trains to get them to Brooklyn. Clint finally puts it in the group chat, and the longer route with less changing of trains wins over the faster one three to two. Bruce makes a point of not picking a side.

What Clint hasn’t calculated for is that he is now sitting in a train with nothing to keep his hands occupied, and it’s making him twitchy. He taps his foot and thinks about how Bucky took his hand before. It made sense; it was good. They have made a rule of everyone being allowed to ask for physical affection anytime around the tower, but that hasn’t translated into the public like this until today. He starts to snap his right middle finger against his left thumbnail.

“Do you want to get off and walk for a bit?” Bucky’s question startles him out of his thoughts.

“No, it’s fine.” Clint scratches his nose. Ah, what’s the point. He leans his body against Bucky and drops his head on his shoulder. There is a hum, and Bucky’s arm settles across his back.

The rumbling of the train keeps it from being really comfy, but Clint is calmer by the minute. As his brain slowly stops hopping tracks, he notices a few things. First, there are a few furtive glances here and there and there is no way to tell if someone is taking pictures with everybody having their phones out anyway. Second, Bucky doesn’t seem to care in the least; what wafts off him in politely reduced intensity is contention and safety. And third, with all the trundling of the train and their close contact Bucky is very careful to not rub any of his scent glands against Clint’s bare skin. He has his head turned a little to the side and his arm is wrapped around Clint’s shoulder, but in a way that keeps his bare arm from touching Clint’s skin. It doesn’t move one bit, and there will only be the barest hint left of Bucky on Clint as soon as they reach Brooklyn. It is, of course, the polite thing to do. Clint thinks about pushing his head into Bucky’s neck for a moment, but the thought is gone as fast as it has sprung up.

With the way they act at home, there is no avoiding that most of the time they all smell like they sleep in one big pile on the floor every night, but that is still a big step away from scent marking each other, especially in public.

They reach their stop, and Bucky removes his arm, carefully avoiding touching Clint with his wrist. Clint again resists the urge to turn and accidentally rub himself against it.

Steve’s recommended ice cream shop is in a residential area with only a few small businesses strewn in between. The place looks like the all American soda shop every conservative news outlet would love to know is Steve Rogers’ favorite sundae place. Down to the marquee and checkered floor tiles.

Clint barely manages to close his mouth. “He is fucking with us, right?”

“Nope,” Bucky pops the p, but it’s clear that Clint is missing some joke.

They enter with Bucky holding the door open for Clint, and as soon as the bell jingles, there is already a small middle-aged lady hurrying around the bar. “Bucky! Don’t you think you can confuse me with any blond boy. I know that that isn’t Steve.”

“Hi Lam,” Bucky says with a small chuckle. “This is Clint, which I know you know since you comment on any piece of information about the Avengers that gets posted anywhere on the internet.” His infliction makes it clear that he thinks it’s a bit too much. “Clint, this is Lam, owner of Steve’s favorite ice cream place.”

“Only Steve’s? So so?” Lam squints at Bucky and then links arms with Clint and leads him towards the counter. She pats a stool only a little to the side from the cash register. Clint sits down, not sure what he has walked into here. Bucky has followed them and takes the stool one down from Clint, looking amused at whatever is going on.

Lam has made her way back behind the counter and is still ignoring Bucky. “Clint, of course you get the big classic vanilla sundae, right? It comes in a bowl as big as your head. I’ll put extra cherries on top.”

“Actually…” Bucky gets instantly leveled with a glare. “Clint loves coffee.”

Lam’s eyes light up.

Bucky continues, “As we have some other plans though, he can’t have your grandiose big sundae either.”

That brings back the scowl.

“But we could share a medium one.”

From the corner of his eye, Clint can see Bucky looking at him for confirmation, but Clint is still looking at Lam whose eyes flick between the two of them with sudden interest. Clint doesn’t know what to do except accepting that he has no idea what is going on. “Yeah, sure,” he says with a smile, turning his head to Bucky. Lam is already giving instructions to the kitchen in what Clint assumes is Vietnamese.

Five minutes later, a sizeable dish with two spoons gets placed before them. It’s not all ice cream; there is also some pastries and fresh mango. Still, there is a swirl of whipped cream with a cherry on top in the middle. Bucky spoons it up and offers it to Clint. “According to Lam, it’s what makes it a real sundae.”

Clint eats cream and cherry, only realizing that he could have also taken the spoon from Bucky, when a large smile blooms on the alpha’s face. Clint looks around to see if anyone has noticed, and Lam is giving him two thumbs-up with a grin spanning her whole face.

Clint busies himself with tasting all the different things that are there. He starts at the pastries that are fruity and decently sweet. The first ball of ice cream is coconut. When he tries the dark one, he feels watched. It’s obviously coffee ice cream, but when Clint puts it in his mouth it is extremely strong. He scrunches up his face and looks at Bucky, who has his phone ready and takes a picture. He has the decency to not send it to the chat before explaining that you are supposed to eat the coffee ice cream together with the creamy white one next to it. “It’s condensed milk.”

Clint is skeptical, but together it is perfect. He sneaks a peek at his phone. Nat is asking if they can blow the photo up and hang it into the kitchen. He puts the phone down again. Every bite of their sundae is delicious, and Bucky pushes even more mango onto Clint’s side of the bowl when they are almost done. He would do the same with Tony and everyone else at home. Nothing unusual.

After Clint scraped out the bowl, he insists on a photo of him with Lam and Bucky. Maybe he can convince Steve that it would make a far better picture for the kitchen. And if Steve makes puppy eyes at Tony, they’ll get it.

They leave the shop, and Bucky looks expectantly at Clint. “What?”

“Want to go to the next one?” he asks full well knowing the answer.

“God no. One more bite and I’m gonna die.”

Bucky nods as if satisfied that he doesn’t have to restrain Clint for his own health. Not that that ever happened before. “Want to go home?”

“We are not giving up! This is just a break. I’ll get my second wind. I’ll tell you.” The weather is still nice and they are somewhere where Bucky apparently comes to more often. “Any other interesting places to spend time around here?”

“I guess you are not talking about the great diner two blocks from here?” Clint’s glare gets only answered by another laugh. “Well, there is a nice little park. Maybe there are some more dogs.”

It could’ve sounded condescending, but it sounds like Bucky thinks it’s a valid argument for going there.

It’s only a short distance, and Clint takes Bucky’s hand because they have established that it’s okay. It’s the metal hand, and Clint for the first time realizes that Bucky doesn’t have a scent gland on his left wrist. It’s probably the least of issues with the arm and all the crappy history around it, but for the first time, Clint feels like he has a glimpse of how much it must have sucked for Bucky.

“Do you ever try to use the scent gland on your left arm just to notice it’s not there?” Clint bites his tongue directly after the thought is out. It’s a stupid question to ask.

“Like you trying to turn down the volume on your hearing aids when Natasha signs too much at you before your first coffee?” Bucky asks back with a wicked grin.

“That was one time.” Clint is tempted to pull his hand away, but he is afraid he might not get Bucky’s hand back.

Bucky continues, “Not really. It feels too different. Not that there has been a need to use those scent glands since I got the arm.”

Again, Clint wants to hit himself over the head. Bucky hadn’t spent the last 70 years hooking up with people. There was Hydra, then a short but trying phase of being on the run, and then he moved in with them.

“It’s okay; it’s nothing I can’t wait for,” Bucky adds, and Clint again notices too late that his embarrassment must be stinking up the air. Bucky’s words register moments later. Wait for. Bucky is waiting. It’s a split-second decision. Clint looks around to make sure there are no little children or dogs to traumatize and then pulls Bucky to the side of the paths. He has to slightly get up on his toes to reach Bucky’s face and bring their lips together.

It’s more familiar than it has any right to be. Of course, the smell is Bucky, home, or part of it, and it only intensifies with happiness and longing and something spicy Clint is not ready to think about yet. Bucky’s arms wrapped around him feel as good as ever, and maybe they wouldn’t be here if not for the reassurance that they have come to mean to Clint. It is as if they have been on the road to this moment for a long while now. Their lips fit together as easily as their bodies do, and Clint sinks down in the feeling of completeness that comes with it. He only notices that he is dragging his arms along the scent glands on both sides of Bucky’s neck when Bucky lowly growls against his mouth.

Clint lets their lips fall apart to ask, “Is that good?” He is pretty sure but wants to hear it.

“Yes, please. Yes,” Bucky answers as if he can’t get the words out fast enough. He tugs carefully at the back of Clint’s shirt, and Clint nods before he dives back into kissing Bucky as if he had to make up for the pause.

Bucky’s right hand slowly moves under his shirt to his lower back. He drags his wrist over the skin there and Clint can start to smell it. It’s the same scent that all of them would also get out of a cuddle with Bucky, just purer. It is as clearly a claim as it can be, and it smells perfect. Clint won’t ever admit it to Nat, but it’s like it belongs to the fantasy heroic alpha that a too skinny beta teenager with lots of troubles might imagine could save him from whatever problems he was currently caught up in.

They separate hectically when they hear a bike speeding past. It’s gone as soon as Clint has taken a step back. When their eyes connect they both can’t stop laughing. Bucky holds out his hand again. “And what now?”

Clint takes it. “Now,” he takes his phone from his pocket, “we are going to send the rest a selfie.”

If possible Bucky looks even happier at that. In the end, Bucky has to take the picture to get the angle right (stupid big alpha genes). Clint sends one where there is no question that they are kissing but they don’t look stupid. He locks the screen as fast as possible after.

“We are not waiting for their reactions?” Bucky asks but it doesn’t sound like a protest. It doesn’t even sound surprised.

“Let’s figure out how to get to the next place, and then we’ll see what they say.”

Clint takes Bucky’s hand for the minute it takes them to meet the next dog. But Clint knows he’ll get to hold it again after.

A small walk and a subway ride later, they are back in Manhattan. The place that Sam recommended has only soft serve but with a multitude of sauces and fruits as topping. Clint gets caramel with raspberries and blueberries. Bucky asks him what he should take in exchange for him ordering at Lam’s. Clint chooses cherry with chocolate sauce and extra cherries on top.

They settle on one of the small chairs outside while eating, and Clint pulls out his phone. Even during the subway ride, Bucky didn’t take his phone out once. Clint’s stomach feels like it’s going to drop somewhere it doesn’t belong until Bucky moves his chair closer and squeezes his thigh with his metal hand. Clint opens the messenger.

The first text is from Tony and just says, “Finally!!!”

Then there is a smiley from Bruce, congratulations from Thor, and a thumbs up from Sam. In a second text, Sam adds “You look cute.” with a winking smiley. Nat’s message says “You’ll both have some explaining to do.” followed by “And yeah, this is fricking cute.” followed by Sam making fun of her for “fricking”.

And then there is another picture of Tony kissing Steve. It is actually a small series of pictures with Steve going from surprised to participating enthusiastically.

Clint clicks on the first one to make it large, and Bucky presses his face close to Clint’s to be able to see too. Swiping through the photos, they both are silent until Clint says, “That’s hot.”

Bucky laughs and turns Clint’s face around to kiss him again. In the middle of Manhattan, on a sunny afternoon.

“There is probably reporters around–” Clint says when they come up for air.

Bucky settles back a little. “If you don’t want them to–”

“No, not what I was saying.” Clint swoops back to kissing Bucky. “Doesn’t matter,” he mumbles against his lips.

Somehow they manage to finish their soft serve and when they check back in there is a whole new bunch of messages. It seems like this is something that everyone has just been waiting for. Clint wonders what they might be missing at home.

“Want to get something for everyone from Thor’s ice cream shop and take it back to the tower?” Bucky asks.

Clint looks at him and can’t even muster any surprise. Bucky is just unbelievably good at taking care of anyone. And today he has been really good at taking care of Clint. No questions asked.

“Yeah, let’s go home and keep them from getting into trouble.”

[philipronans]

of our weary city - 3

i know we’re nine days into the year, but happy new year anyway

ao3

It might have been a very long time since Leandra stepped foot in Kirkwall, but a combination of vague memories and talking to disgruntled locals eventually leads them to The Hanged Man. It isn’t anything particularly special, and the barmaid isn’t exactly friendly to strangers. But there’s ale, and they even manage to get some food. It means handing over the small amount of silver they have left, but given the how satisfyingly full his stomach feels, Garrett thinks it’s worth it.

Gamlen finds them eventually, several hours after he’d disappeared. He looks unimpressed, swiping at his brow as he stomps over to their table. It’s tucked in the corner, out of the way. The tavern isn’t overly busy, but Aveline had wanted her back to the wall, and Carver had wanted to people watch.

“Evenin’, Uncle.” Garrett says. He beckons Gamlen over with an exuberant wave of the hand, almost smacking Carver in the side of the head.

There is no chance to apologise, because Carver reaches out to snatch the last drumstick from Garrett’s plate in retaliation. He bites into it with relish. Grease drips down his chin and he wipes at it with the hem of his tunic, ignoring the way Leandra tuts at him and winking at Aveline.

“Could you not have stayed where I left you?” Gamlen grumbles, even as he pulls a chair over from one of the nearby tables. He sinks down onto it with a heavy sigh and makes a vague hand gesture at the barmaid. It draws her away from the dwarf she’d been chatting to at the bar.

“We were hungry!” Carver explains, mouth still full.

“And you couldn’t have waited?”

“Well, you were gone for ages.” Carver waves the drumstick around for emphasis, sending bits of chicken flying. “‘Sides, we’re citizens now. We can go wherever we like.”

Gamlen huffs through his nose and taps his fingers against the table. “I wouldn’t go that far, just yet. But you’re in luck – we’re rather close to my house.”

“You live in Lowtown?” Leandra says faintly. The discomfort would be evident even without the slight sneer she doesn’t bother hiding.

“I’m not sure what you were expecting, given all I’ve told you.” Gamlen shifts out of the way as the barmaid approaches. She places a beaten tankard on the table in front of him, nodding at his murmured thanks. “You’re quite welcome to find somewhere else to stay, if you’d rather.”

Leandra goes even paler, if that’s possible. “It’s no problem!”

“He’s got a point.” Carver agrees, when Leandra pulls a face. “If I never have to try and sleep on water again, it’ll be too bloody soon.”

“And if I never have to put up with you elbowing me in the bladder all night, that’ll be too bloody soon.” Garrett ducks out of the way when Carver swipes at his head. He waggles his eyebrows over the rim of his tankard. When he’s finished his drink he smacks his lips and hums.

Gamlen sighs, standing up and draining the other half of his ale. The tankard thuds against the table. He stretches his arms above his head and yawns. “C’mon then.”

“Uncle?” Garrett asks as he gets to his feet. “How far have we got to go?”

“Not far – a few streets over.” Gamlen’s eyes narrow. “Why?”

“No reason, really. I’m just worried that Carver won’t last the journey.” He snorts at the glare he’s given.

When he offers a hand, Carver takes a second to decide whether he’s going to accept it or not. Warm, dry fingers wrap around Garrett’s wrist, and his arm goes taut as he takes the weight of pulling his (ridiculously tall and hefty) brother from his seat. They take a moment to grin at each other, and then dissolve into helpless giggles.

Aveline shakes her head and starts ushering them towards the door, following Gamlen. She’s careful to ensure they’ve remembered everything, snagging her shield from where it’d been propped against the table. She straightens back up to find Garrett waiting for her at the door, Carver’s head peaking over his shoulder.

They quickly fall into step beside her, trailing after Gamlen and Leandra at a distance. They’re careful to keep them within sight, but neither Hawke seems particularly worried about sticking close.

“I’m worried.” Carver says after a few minutes of silence. He’s got his arm over Garrett’s shoulders, and at this point Aveline is hard pressed to decide who’s holding up who. “I’ve been so focussed on getting us here, I didn’t bother thinking about what would happen when we did.”

“I don’t think we would have been prepared, even if we had thought about it.” Garrett says, voice soothing. It’s the softest Aveline’s heard him speak in a long time. “Mother promised us an entirely different welcome.”

“It’s been hard for her.” Aveline says, glancing up at the surrounding buildings. They’re by no means in the nicer part of the city, that much is clear even now. But she can’t quite understand Leandra’s disdain. At least, not based on first impressions.

Garrett wraps his arm around Carver’s waist, hanging onto a beltloop to keep him upright. They’re both dragging their feet, but from the looks of it, Garrett is faring slightly better. “She was always telling us stories, when we were kids. About how her father was ‘extremely important’ in Kirkwall. Not that it mattered much to three little terrors running around rural Ferelden, mind.”

 “I’ll have you know I was a delightful child.” Carver butts in with a tired smile. “You were the one that told me to climb that tree that I broke my arm falling out of. Wouldn’t have done it if you hadn’t dared me to.”

Gamlen and Leandra have paused ahead. Leandra’s foot is tapping, and Gamlen’s fighting yet another yawn, so Aveline increases her pace. Garrett just about manages to keep up with her, barely saving Carver from landing on his face when he stumbles over his own foot.

“Watch where you’re going, idiot.” Garrett says, heaving Carver along through sheer force of will.

Aveline hovers, ready to step in and offer them help, but by the time Garrett truly begins to flag, they’ve already caught up with Gamlen. He points to the house on the corner.

“Almost there, just up those stairs.”

“Thank the Maker.” Garrett sighs. He shifts his hold on Carver’s waist, blowing into his ear when he grumbles. “You’re bloody heavy, you know that?”

Carver lifts his head enough to glare at Garrett. He somehow finds the energy to straighten his shoulders and helps get to the bottom step.

Their uncle leads the charge, jogging up the steps quickly. Once he’s at the top, he pushes the door open and holds it until Garrett and Aveline have managed to virtually drag Carver up.

Gamlen’s house isn’t actually as awful as Garrett had first feared. They’ve three rooms to share between them, which means that Carver and Garrett will have to share with Gamlen. But given some of the places they’ve rested their heads over the last six months, Garrett is absolutely not going to complain. The main room is on the smaller side, unsurprisingly, but there’s a low fire crackling away in the hearth. Leandra walks towards it immediately, sticking her hands out over the minimal flames. She glances around the room, taking in the scarce furniture and the threadbare rug on the floor with a grimace.

“It isn’t much.” He hears Gamlen say through the partly closed door of the bedroom. “But at least it’s warm.”

Two mattresses lie haphazardly on the floor, straw poking out from poorly patched holes. Aveline helps him manoeuvre Carver to one of them, then begins to unlace his boots with a gentleness Garrett doesn’t expect.

He lowers himself onto the edge of the mattress with a tired groan. Aveline remains crouched by his feet, fiddling with a particularly stubborn knot. Garrett watches her struggle for a few moments before he clears his throat. “Thank you.”

“I should be the one thanking you.” Aveline protests, her voice quiet as the silence of the house settles around them. “I don’t know where I would be without the kindness your family’s shown me.”

Garrett chuckles, but it’s a bitter thing. “We’d all be dead without you, you know. There wouldn’t be much to worry about.” He rolls his head so he can stare blankly up at the ceiling. The wood is slightly damp, and he follows the patterns bleeding through the planks. “I don’t know what the future has in store, for any of us. But I’m glad you’re here.”

“You’ve been a good friend to me, Garrett.” She says, turning her attention back to Carver’s boots. She lines them up to the edge of the mattress, tucks the laces inside as neatly as she can, and then gets to her feet. She takes one last look around the room. “I’ll go and see if there’s anything your uncle needs help with.”

Garrett nods at the deep breaths Carver’s taking. “You’ve got to be as tired as this one.”

Aveline smiles at his soft snoring. “I won’t have Gamlen thinking I’m taking his generosity for granted.” She says instead, voice firm. The door doesn’t quite close behind her as she leaves, and it means he catches sight of his mother. She’s sat in front of the fire, eyes blank as she stares into the flames, hands now clutched in her lap.

 He doesn’t mean to fall asleep – he even vaguely remembers making an attempt to get up and move to the other mattress at one point. But his knees had argued their point well enough to convince him to lie back down. So, he wakes up to Carver’s hair in his mouth, and the ever-present elbow in his bladder.

Sunlight filters through the small, grimy window directly into his eyes and he blinks against it, even as he stifles a groan with his palm. Carver shifts beside him, knee knocking into his hip as he murmurs something Garrett has no hope of understanding. Garrett rolls off the mattress and immediately curses under his breath when his knee smacks into the very solid wooden floor. He checks that Carver is still asleep, and then falls back to sit on the floor. The first thing he notices is that the bed is empty, ratty sheets thrown to the end of it. There’s a pillow discarded on the floor that he reaches out to grab, hugging it to his chest.

He glances around the room, taking in what he hadn’t been able to see last night. An unsteady looking dresser is tucked in one corner, its drawers not quite sitting in the frame properly. There’s also a picture hanging on the wall, interesting enough to have Garrett clambering to his feet to look at it properly. He throws the pillow in the general direction of the bed as he moves and comes to a stop a few inches from the wall. The frame is worn at the edges, as if it’s been moved around a lot.

Garrett reaches out to brush his fingers over the golden inlay, even as his gaze shifts to the painting itself. A woman who looks startlingly like his own mother sits in the centre of the frame. Her blonde hair is pulled back out of sight, but Garrett knows from years of watching Leandra play with Bethany’s hair that it’s tied into a fancy knot. A younger version of who he can only assume is Gamlen stands at her shoulder, hand not quite touching her. He’s got rosy red cheeks, and a glint in his eye that promises mischief. It’s so out of character for the man Garrett knows now – as little as that is – that it makes him pause.

“I had to smuggle that out when I left the estate.” A gruff voice states from the doorway, drawing Garrett’s attention. Gamlen’s leaning against the doorjamb, arms crossed loosely over his chest. He tilts his head, eyes squinting as he studies the painting. “Thought I might be able to get a decent amount of coin for it. But no one wanted it, so now I’m stuck with the blasted thing.”

Garrett doesn’t have an answer to that, so he shrugs. “Who could turn down such a handsome face? Criminal, that is.”

Gamlen’s mouth quirks, like he’s fighting a smile. He jerks his head towards the room behind him. “Now that you’re up, I’ve got a few errands I need to take care of. Breakfast’s cooking.”

“Of course.” Garrett hears the unvoiced order, and scratches at his chin. He follows Gamlen out, the smell of bacon frying over the fire instantly hitting his nose. Given the way his stomach rumbles, it’s a wonder how he didn’t smell it before. “What are you going to do?”

“Make sure Meeran’s followed up on his promises, for starters.” Gamlen points to the low standing cabinet beside the front door. “Plates are in there.”

“Right.” Garrett says, rubbing at his eyes. He yawns. “Sorry for vanishing last night.”

Gamlen stares at him for a while, eyes guarded. It’s starting to become uncomfortable when he shakes his head. “You’ve… been through a lot, I understand.”

“Thanks.” The silence that falls between them is awkward, but not oppressive. “I’ll let the others know where you’ve got to.”

Gamlen nods, before slipping out the door. It snicks shut behind him softly, and then the house is quiet. He moves over to the fire to make sure the bacon isn’t burning. To his relief, he sees that it’s recently been placed in the pan and has only just started to hiss. Through the wall he can hear the soft sounds of Leandra snoring, and of Aveline shifting around.

The bedroom door opens again, hinges squeaking a little bit. The sound of bare feet shuffling across the floor precedes Carver collapsing heavily onto the sofa next to him. It’s old and worn, and some of the stuffing is coming out in places, but it’s comfortable. Carver’s got a blanket wrapped around his shoulders, and he’s rubbing at his eyes. His hair sticks up in every direction, and Garrett can’t help but try and flatten it back into place.

“Mornin’” Carver says, and it’s a testament to just how groggy he still is that he doesn’t react to Garrett’s fussing. “Where’s Gamlen?”

“Checking up on Meeran.” Garrett answers, leaning off the sofa as far as he can without actually getting up in order to flip the bacon over. There’s a bowl of eggs beside Carver and he points at it. “Pass us that, would you?”

Laziness clearly runs in the family, because it takes Carver several attempts to grab it. When he hands it over, though, there’s a very small, very excited smile curving his mouth. “Eggs? Maker’s breath, we haven’t had those in an age.”

“Let’s just hope I don’t burn them.” Garrett jokes, snorting around a laugh at the betrayed look Carver gives him.

He loosens the blanket enough to snatch the bowl back. “I’ll do it.”

Garrett concedes with little fight. One, because it’s too much effort to bother trying, and two, he has to get up to get the plates anyway. He gets to his feet with a groan, knees cracking as he straightens his legs. “You get on with that, I’ll wake Mother.”

Carver hums in agreement. He takes the plates Garrett offers, tips the bacon onto them and then cracks four eggs into the emptied pan. “Beware the dragon.”

Garrett is still sniggering as he gently pushes the other bedroom door open. Aveline’s already awake, judging by the way she stiffens at the light now streaming into the room. Her hair fans around her shoulders, loose of its usual ponytail and she pushes it out of her face so she can squint at him.

“We’re making breakfast, if you’re hungry.”

The sound of his voice is enough to rouse Leandra, and she sits up slowly, pulling the blanket with her. She narrows her eyes when she realises who it is, and runs a hand through her hair.

“Breakfast?” He repeats, gesturing vaguely behind him.

When he doesn’t get an answer, he sighs and lets the door swing shut. He goes to sit beside Carver again, murmuring a thanks when his brother hands him a steaming plate he has to hold with the hem of his tunic.

“That went well, then.” Carver says, carefully divvying food up between the other plates. He puts two on the table, sets the pan aside, and finally picks up his own breakfast.

“They can’t blame me if it goes cold.” Garrett says with a shrug. He shoves an entire rasher of bacon into his mouth at once and starts chewing furiously. It burns the roof of his mouth, but he’s too hungry to let that stop him.

Both women eventually appear, just as he’s wiping egg yolk from the corner of his mouth. Aveline’s hair is in its ponytail, although she’s forgone the leather band usually tied around her forehead. Carver is working through his food slightly slower than Garrett, but his mouth is still full, so he just points at the table.

“Sleep well?” Aveline asks when the silence stretches for just a beat too long.

“Like a baby.” Carver sighs. He places his plate on the floor for the moment and stretches his arms above his head.

“A very fidgety baby.” Garrett complains.

Carver pulls a face at him, even going so far as to stick his tongue out. He accidentally knocks his ankle against the plate as he stands up and it rattles noisily. Tugging the blanket further around his shoulders, he rubs at the back of his head. “What do you think we should do today?”

Garrett contemplates this. “If Meeran doesn’t have any work for us at the moment, then we’ll need to find another way of earning some money.”

“Too bad there aren’t any farms around.” Carver jokes. “We’re not exactly good for much else.”

“Muscles like those?” Garrett grins, winking when Carver scowls at him. Carver’s lips twitch, dangerously close to a smile. “Must be some old woman somewhere who needs help carrying her shopping.”

[jarmes]

Birdcage Chapter XI

Masterpost -  Previous Chapter - Next Chapter

Cold, or: the love of a father

Pollux and Castor Gemelo were born in Forenz, a small country to the west of Cieleta, six and a half years before the Purge. Forenz was an inhospitable country, with tough soil and icy winds that killed crops. When the first people to settle in Forenz arrived in this frozen tundra, they realized the two options that sat in front of them: adapt, or perish. They chose the first option.

Inspired by the teachings of their patron, the Sage, the people of Forenz mastered the art of magic. Using crystalized mana dug deep from within the earth, they bent the elements of nature to their will. With fire magic, they warmed their homes. With wind magic, they blew away the icy storms. With earth magic, they broke the frozen soil and planted their crops.

By the time the twins were born Forenz was a paradise. Then the Purge came.

---

Two weeks after Eric’s escape, the twins took the recruitment exam, passing with flying colors thanks to a little tip I gave them. They requested placement on Squad V. I led them back to the barracks, where Sterling and Captain Cross waited.

“Welcome to Squad V, Gemelo and...Gemelo,” Cross said.

“Glad to be here, Mr. Cross,” Cas said. “I can’t wait to start fighting monsters, and going on adventures, and-”

Cross chuckled. “Let’s not get too far ahead of ourselves, Castor,” he said. “I’d prefer to keep you two away from real danger until I have a chance to properly train you.”

Sterling carried over a box full of armor and sat it down on one of the beds. “I grabbed some gear from the armory,” he said. “It isn’t the nicest, but it’s still better than the stuff you guys sell.”

Pollux reached into the box and pulled out an old helmet. He glanced at me. “So, do you guys wear this every day? Seems a bit uncomfortable,” he said.

“You get used to it,” I said.

Cas pulled off his stocking cap, exposing his uncombed brown hair, and put a helmet on his head. He pulled his hat tight over the helmet. Pollux rolled his eyes and put on the rest of his armor.

Captain Cross handed the twins a pair of lances and we marched to the gate. After two hours without an incident, the twins finally spoke up. “So, is this all you guys do?” Pollux asked.

“Pretty much, yes,” Sterling said.

“At least the pay’s better, I suppose,” Pollux said.

Cas climbed up and joined me and Cross atop the guard tower. “So, see anything cool with the telescope?” he asked.

“Nothing yet, Castor,” Cross said. “Seems that today will be rather peaceful.”

“Oh, that’s nice,” Cas said with a frown.

Cross tossed the telescope to Cas before climbing down off the guard tower. Cas spied out on the desolate lands on the other side of the wall. “See anything?” I asked.

Cas smiled. “I see something!” he shouted before thrusting the telescope into my hands.

I looked out on the field. “I don’t see anything,” I said.

“Look down by the river, at those blue jelly things,” Cas said.

I followed his instructions. A couple of small blue blobs were crawling around on the beach. “Those are just slimes,” I said. “Balls of grungy water given a fragment of sentience by magic. Basically harmless, really.”

Cas groaned. “So there’s no reason to go out beyond the wall?” he asked.

At that moment, I realized Cas had given me an opportunity. “Actually, it’s a perfect reason to go out,” I said.

I yelled for Cross and he climbed up the ladder. “What’s wrong?” he asked.

“It’s terrible, Captain,” I said, fake fear filling my voice. “Gemelo here spotted some dangerous monsters down by the river.”

“How dangerous?”

“Slimes!” Cas shouted.

Cross rolled his eyes. “You don’t really need to concern yourself with slimes, Gemelo,” he said. “Especially not ones down by the river. It’ll take them a week to get to the gate. Even then, it’s not like they’re a high level threat.”

“Oh, I don’t know about that, Captain,” I said. “Their lack of danger is their greatest weapon. Today we ignore them, tomorrow they squeeze through the bricks of the wall and invade the city. And when that happens-”

“We kill them instantly because they lack any real ability to harm us,” Cross interjected.

“Yes, but have you considered the following: what if they could harm us?”

“They could crawl into our food supplies and make them...dirty!” Cas said.

“We have no choice but to nip them in the bud now, lest they destroy us tomorrow!” I said.

Cross sighed. “If it’s that important, I can tell one of the other Squads about it,” he said.

“Oh, there’s no reason to get other Squads involved. They’re just slimes,” I said. “We’ll handle it.”

Cross narrowed his eyes. “I take it that the two of you are bored,” he said.

We nodded. “So you want to go over the wall, into monster infested territory, to fix an inconsequential problem, because you're bored?” he asked.

“Well, when you put it like that, it makes us sound dumb,” Cas said.

“Come on, Captain. The twins need training,” I said. “You said it yourself, it’s strangely peaceful today. It’ll be weeks before we find another opportunity like this.”

“I don’t know-”

“You’ll be there, I’ll be there, Sterling’ll be there. Nothing bad will happen.”

Cross sighed. “Fine, let’s go slime hunting,” he said.

---

The Purge devastated Forenz. By sheer bad luck, a majority of the mages that kept the nation hospitable were among those killed. Crops died, the icy winds returned, and village after village fell to the new monsters. Overnight, the nation of Forenz collapsed.

Pollux and Castor’s mother died during the Purge, but their father and them survived. They, like hundreds of other Forenzites, left Forenz and marched through the snow in search of a new home.

---

Sterling pulled the wench, raising the gate. The twins and I stepped out into the monster filled plains. “You know, I haven’t gone out since I was a kid,” Cas said.

“It isn’t so scary. I go out all the time and haven’t had a problem yet,” I said.

“Don’t lie to the recruits, Zuckerman,” Cross said as he walked out the gate. “You’ve only been out twice, both times under my supervision.”

“Trying to make it less scary, Captain,” I muttered.

It took the five of us thirty minutes of walking to reach the slimes. They slithered around on a small beach on the side of the river. The slimes resembled the drops of water that rest on grass after a rainstorm, except big enough to swallow a cat.

“Monsters are born when magic interacts with the natural world,” Cross said. “It takes these slimes magical energy to hold their forms. Fortunately, slimes only contain a miniscule amount of power.  A large amount of kinetic energy, or even a small enough applied over a small area, is enough to destroy them. MacDonald-”

“On it, sir,” Sterling interjected.

He drew his bow and fired an arrow at one of the slimes. It popped like a balloon when the arrow pierced its slimy membrane, releasing all of the liquid stored inside.

“MacDonald, stand back and step in if anything goes wrong. Castor, stay back with Zuckerman,” Cross said. “Pollux and I will get the next one.”

Cross and Pollux approached the next slime. Cross placed his hand in front of Pollux. “Stand back, and watch closely,” he said.

Cross took a step forward and thrust his lance, popping the slime. “If you’d like to watch me do it again, I can take out another one for you,” Cross said.

Pollux rolled his eyes. “I think I can handle it,” he said.

Pollux ran forward and jumped in the air, smacking the next slime with the side of his spear. The slime popped. “Not the best form, but I appreciate the enthusiasm,” Cross said.

Pollux and Cas swapped positions. “Castor, I’d like for you to do the same thing as your brother,” Cross said.

“Relax, sir. I’ve got this,” Cas said.

As he approached the next slime, Cas pulled a small pouch out of his pocket. “Welcome to your doom, evil slime!” Cas shouted.

Cas ripped a fistful of dust from the pouch and crushed it between his fingers. “The end has come!” he shouted as ice crystals grew on his skin.

Cas opened his hand and released a blast of blue energy. The energy flew through the air and struck the slime, freezing it solid. Cas walked over to his defeated foe and picked it up, holding the block of ice over his head. “The first of many monsters falls to the might of Castor Gemelo!” he shouted.

A small bit of the slime melted by his hands and dripped down onto Cas’s shoulder. He screamed and threw the slime at the ground, shattering it. “Ew ew ew ew!” he shouted.

“Are you okay?” Cross shouted as he ran to Cas’s side.

“Who, me?” Cas asked, regaining his composure. “Of course I’m fine, dear Captain. After all, I’ve just slain a mighty slime!”

“What was that, anyway?” I asked as Pollux and I jogged over.

“Ice magic. Me and Polly learned a little from our father when I was a kid,” Cas said.

“May I see that bag?” Cross said, earning a nod from Cas. “Of course, powdered mana crystals. Potent stuff. Although, a bit more than is necessary for a few slimes.”

“Hey Cas?” Pollux said. “Where, out of curiosity, did you get that bag?”

“You know how you told me to sell the leftover scrap metal to the blacksmith because we weren’t using it anymore? Well, I took that money and bought some magic powder.”

“I see. So, just to be clear, you spent all of our money on magic powder?”

“It’s for our own protection!”

“Let me rephrase that. Did you, and I want you to be honest with me, spend all of our money on magic powder and then use it on a goddamn slime?”

“I didn’t use all of it,” Cas said sheepishly.

---

The twins’ father knitted as he walked, making a pair of hats to keep the cold away from her young boys. By the time he was finished, the group of travelers had left the icy plains of Forenz and entered Cieleta. Unfortunately, the newfound warm forests failed to ease the travelers' worries. A new trouble roared its ugly head: hunger.

The Forenzites carried their remaining food with them as they abandoned their villages. But, the journey was long, and they were many. Rations grew thin. Mr. Gemelo gave up eating for his children. Even as he grew weak, he refused to eat. His children were more important than himself.

After months of travel, the Forenzites finally reached the Capital. There they met a tall wall protected by the Knights of Cieleta. That’s when the real trouble began.

---

We cleared out the remaining slimes. “A job well done, gentlemen,” Cross said. “Let’s get back to the Capital.”

Suddenly, a sharpened piece of wood flew from the water, narrowly missing Cross’s head. “Sandcrawlers!” I shouted as I drew my sword.

Sterling ran to us and placed his hands on the ground, building walls of sand around us to bottleneck the sandcrawlers. I stood in the small opening and fought off any sandcrawlers that tried to enter our makeshift structure.

“Use your ice magic!” Pollux shouted.

“I used it all on the slime!” Cas shouted back.

“You said that there was still some left!”

“I meant money! I still have enough to buy a few more bags of powder. Come on, Polly, I handled the customers. I know how to haggle.”

A sandcrawler tore its way through the sandy wall and pounced on Cas. It grabbed his arm and chomped down with its dagger teeth. Only, instead of piercing his skin, the teeth just bounced off, revealing green scales covering Cas’s arm.

The twins turned to see Captain Cross, covered in green scales generated by his Verse. Cross pointed his hand at the sandcrawler and fired a blast of kinetic energy, annihilating it.

Cross walked over to me and took my place guarding the entrance. “I’ll handle this, Ernest,” he said.

It was over in less than a minute. Each sandcrawler fell to Cross’s blasts and spear, without any of us sustaining a single injury.

---

The Forenzites pounded on the wall, begging to be let in. Some even tried tearing at the wooden bars of the gate, hoping to force it open. After being threatened with death, the starving refugees backed away.

Two Knights rappelled down the wall to talk to the Fornezites: Calvin Cross and his superior officer, Roland Bennett. “Calm yourselves, you animals,” Bennett shouted as he approached the crowd.

A sickly man crawled over to Bennett. “Please sir, open the gate,” he wheezed. “We ran out of food three days ago. We’re starving.”

Bennett kicked the man in the stomach. “Don’t you think we know that? Every person on this side of the mountains wants to come here now that the world’s ended,” Bennett spat. “We’re full! We have our own mouths to feed!”

The sickly man grabbed Bennett’s legs. “Please, you don’t have to take all of us,” he whispered.

“Let go of me before I put you in the ground,” Bennett yelled. “We can’t take care of our own people. You think I’m going to take food from my peoples mouths and give it to you filthy frost people?”

The man tightened his grip. “Just take the children, please,” he whispered.

Bennett drew his sword and struck the man, killing him. The rest of the crowd stepped back, afraid of Bennett’s wrath. “There, something for you to eat,” Bennett said with a smirk.

A pair of children, one wearing a cyan hat and the other wearing an orange hat, ran up to the deceased man. The boy in the orange hat cried into his father’s chest. His brother pulled a small bag from the dead man’s pocket.

The boy in the cyan had crushed a handful of magic powder between his fingers and threw a blast of energy at Bennett, no stronger than a snowball. Bennett screamed and raised his sword in the air.

The boy in the orange hat jumped in the way and covered his brother with his body and Bennett brought down his sword. The sword bounced away, revealing green scales.

Bennett turned back to Cross. “What do you think you’re doing?” he asked.

“We’re leaving,” Cross replied quietly.

“What did you-”

“I said we’re leaving!” Cross screamed.

Bennett and Cross grabbed their ropes and were lifted over the wall. The next morning, Cross came back and opened the gate, letting the people of Forenz into the city.

---

As we got back to the gate, Pollux tapped on Cross’s shoulder. “Yes?” Cross asked.

“I’d like to thank you, for looking out for Cas back there,” Pollux said. “It’s been just the two of us for years now, so I’ve had to look out for Cas by myself for a while now. It’s nice to know someone else has his back.”

Cross forced a smile. “It’s nothing, really,” he said. “As long as the two of you are on this Squad, I swear that nothing bad will happen to you.”

[indomitablemegnolia]

Where does this passion come from?”

I sighed, gripping the edge of the table in a stranglehold, possibly it was the only thing holding me upright, “You know I heard something about a bottle of something or other, this is not a conversation that should be had sober.”

He laughed walking to the little refrigerator, extracting two bottles, inspecting both labels, he laughed nodding, taking the necks of both bottles in one hand, as he passed the low dresser with four glasses on it.  He takes two glasses, flipping them, adding ice to both, then in his extended fingers walks back to the table.  

The grace is amazing, I shook my head. “How are you able to be so graceful, is it just something that comes along with good luck and great looks?” I giggled, “God, listen to me, maybe liquor isn’t a good idea.”

He put one of the glasses before me, “Oh, darlin, on the contrary, I think it’s a wonderful idea, it will keep me on my best behavior.  Now pick your poison. There’s a scotch and a vodka.”  I tilted my head thoughtfully.  “If you need, there is an orange juice and a cranberry juice in the mini bar.”

I licked my lips, “I’ll have what you are having.” That laugh echoed in the large room, “you suppose there might be some music?”

He poured about two fingers of scotch in both glasses, turning grabbing a Canada Dry from the minibar he slid it across the table to me; grabbing the can and fidgeting with it I watched his motions.  Spinning on that heel again he placed his phone in a glass in the middle of the table, softly oh so softly Marvin Gaye started playing; the soft purple of the standby screen was marvelous mood lighting.  With “Trouble Man” playing he walked back to the little table, sliding a glass in front of me, the frost from the ice streaked where his fingers just pulled away.  He held his glass aloft, I shook my head at my own self when I literally placed my fingers exactly where his were, and clinked my glass lightly against his.  He smiled tipping his head taking a sip.  My eyes lingered on him, watching his eyes close softly, his Adams apple bobbing lightly as he swallowed.  His long lashes swept up and his eyes were on me; like a child caught stealing a cookie I jumped, taking a very long drink, draining the glass.  Catching the lightly honeyed flavour on my tongue, I held it.  Tilting my head back and forth, closing my eyes, deliberately enjoying the flavour, it burned and tingled on my tongue. Swallowing the deliciously fiery elixir; letting the sweeping tendrils of the alcohol do its work, licking at my senses dulling them, but not quite silencing them.  A smile pulling gently at my lips I open my eyes, but now the lids were heavier, not quite opening all the way; there waiting were those lipid pools dancing in the purple light.  

The easy delicate rumble of his voice danced, my eyes closed for just a moment to appreciate the sound sex of his words, “Ok now, the thing that grabs at the heart is your passion… Where does this passion come from?” He looked at my now empty glass, “Don’t tell me you are a Hemingway, that your passion comes from the drink.”

Laughing, I held my glass out, “No, actually, generally, I don’t mix drink with thought, but this is so far out of my sphere…”

He poured just a little more into my glass, “Ok then where does that passion come from?”

I shrugged, “Really, I don’t know.” He gave me a galled look, “Seriously, its not like I have all that much experience with anything.”

A soft scoff, he sat back pushing his chair, taking another small sip, pressing his lovely tongue out to clean the tiny errant drop, “You can’t tell me that.” He breathed in stretching his arms above his head, “you can’t tell me you have never been kissed, never made love, been…loved.”

I laugh so hard I snort, “Oh, there was this one time that I had boyfriend; god, I hate that word, it really seemed less friendly and more… a parasitic infection. Though I have had some kisses, I loved kisses;” I shrug my shoulders pulling my legs under me on the chair. “I suppose made love, but not really ever been loved… and no never felt love… you know, the drawing hearts on your binder and wanting hours of phone calls.”  I drained my glass again, “God that sounds so horribly pathetic.” My head dropped heavily into my crossed arms on the table. “Honestly, I…” I breathed in a sigh. “I have given up on the idea of a great love,” I breathed out a huff, my tongue suddenly thick but still loving the words, though not the ideas. “Now I am focused on doing great things with the time I have, I have spent 37 years dying...” I shook myself, “I suppose its safe to say that my styles, my ideas, have come from reading, believing. Sometimes just being able to eat a steak is an act not simply to be reveled in, but an act of sheer will.” I toyed with my ice, swirling it around.  “As with all things to be believed, one does it without having any proof nor having felt it before, but I believe in a kind of love that doesn’t demand me to prove my worth, that accepts me as I am, that doesn’t make me sit in abject misery full of horrible anxiety.  I crave a natural connection where my soul can recognize a feeling of home with another. A freedom, a simple moment out of time, that is all I need.  There is no such thing as always, there never was a forever, there just is…” I finally look up at him.

Suddenly my hands literally itch to run over his lovely soft skin, I let my eyes roam and wander as they will and they decide to run over you, head to toe; I lean heavily onto the table top, softly the lights through the window, soft and wobbly with the ice and snow falling lent to a beautiful aura around him; his head haloed with loving light purple light, his shoulders hugged by the darkness.  I had not noticed that he had taken off his coat, his shoulders stressing the seams of that thin cotton shirt, watching the kiss of that ambient light stream across your shoulder and cheek; finding myself jealous of every ray of libidinous light.  You pour sweet elixir into my glass, I take a deep drought of lush sweet liquor and drop my hand holding the glass to the table, rubbing my fingertip along the lip not feeling the glass at all, but your soft skin.  

We sat quiet for a moment, the music the only thing playing on that soft hum that quieted the universe.  I watch him breathe soft, slow, relaxed, it was like we were sitting side by side, dipping our toes into the cosmos. He smiled, bashful, his soft blush dusting his cheeks; oh, me, oh, my, maybe he had just read my thoughts.  I poured my longing into this moment; oh, Gods those lips, you have such an awfully kissable mouth, soft rounded shaped lips, delicious.  Your lips alone are enough to drive me to distant distraction. Your delicious face almost perfectly symmetric, but seemingly split between your mercurial sides. Almost a perfect Jekyll and Hyde, one side deliciously dashingly handsome and sinister, oh the other, sweetly smiling.  If I were the moon herself I would make a break in the clouds just to bend sliding my sweet fingers, tendrils, rays over the luscious plane of your cheek.  

I snickered to my self dropping my face to the crook of my elbow; so, odd, around him I am my own mercurial dichotomy.  My usual easy going nature becoming sorely tested.  I smile at how you have been able to put a bee in my bonnet without effort. As we talked half of me was filled to bursting with words, the other painfully shy; wanting to be bell of the ball, but still craving solitude; and then again hungering for communion and human contact.  

His eyes watching, searching, seeing, then his sensual tone piercing the veil of this quiet, yet painfully honest, anonymity “If the world were round and actually right and fair, which we know it is not, no person should feel the need to prove anything, to anyone.  Someone like you should always be you without any questions or qualifications.” His eyes for the first time were guarded, he leans over with the bottle and pours a small amount over my ice.  “Please, don’t take this badly, but I heard the words from your own mouth, I have watched the gentle winces cross your face.  I don’t need details, just a confirmation, you are dying?”

I felt a door close on my face, it slammed harder than watching him walk away; I let my eyes roll shut and drain my glass, lord, thank you it was beautiful while it lasted, but will I actually survive… oh, but never mind, “Gratitude is not expressed due solely to the length of the journey, but the views from the window.” I whispered to my glass, wincing feeling that delicious burn, those long delicious licks of alcohol dulling my senses, but not enough; willing my eyes not to mist I let my lashes flutter up, there he was as beautiful and earnest a human as could be hoped for.  So, I pulled from my mind a character, unflinching, “Honey, ain’t we all dying from the day we are born?” I said in my booziest floozy sass.  That tongue of his slipped between his lips moistening them, slow and tenderly, a caress I envied; envied with a wanting so hard the only time I remember it before was that Tiara my cousin had for her Birthday.  I remember the hot sucking feeling in my stomach when I saw it on her head, and yes it was her birthday so I let her keep it, and the next week when it was my birthday I wanted nothing to do with it; god that would not be the case this time.

He let out a small breathy chuckle, ticking his head to the side, raising an eyebrow, “Tsk, Possibly the first time I have seen you bunt this game. I will take it…”

 It hung on the air, that soft dare, he poured some ginger ale into my glass, “Well, honey, how honest were you hoping for?”  I swallowed the ginger ale.

God his smile, it was something I knew was basically a wish, his lips the kind of lips that kisses dream about, “I told you I was not adding pressure, no details just confirmation, I think I heard it.  So, now its up to you how Honest you wish to be.”

I shook my head, at myself mostly, “I would really love to regale you with the tale of how I have a blood curse and I am being tailed by 1472 ninja from a rival ninja clan who have sworn a blood oath that they would not rest in this life or the hereafter until I no longer draw a breath.  The ones who would cut me down in a minute if left to my own devices, but now I have to protect you, someone like you soft not used to the life on the run, they would enjoy peeling that soft, supple, seductive skin from your bones.” I laughed, a dry unfunny laugh, he smirked but looked doubting, I blushed down to my soul.

His laugh shot an arrow directly through my heart, “You don’t have to say anything that you are uncomfortable with, Plus I think I can hold my own against a puny ninja.”

His eyes looked sad, and that glorious colour turned a darker blue.  I sighed, “Do you know the word interstitial?”  He nodded, the curiosity pulling his face beautifully. “Well, I took a long hard look, well before this year began, at those spaces between; those things you can only really think about when staring down the hallway at Terminus; the place that it all meets…and ends.” Watching his mind soak in all of my words, and their implications. “The space between things all become so relative; the rings in a tree, representing years, decades, existence continued, counted in tiny increments.  The little dash between birth and death; yes, agonizingly long years, the happy flashes in seconds; quick uncountable moments all living in that dash; that mad dash, like riding a psychotic horse toward a burning stable, amazing, thrilling, horrifying and ultimately deadly.  The space between thought and action; lifetimes lived in between breaths and heartbeats.  Moments counted in milliseconds, I decided to forgo any further treatments, letting whatever may come, come. Hopefully living more in the countable seconds of time and space, the motion of the world, ebbing of the tide.” He pulled his hand to his face, as was his habit he rubbed his thumb across his two first fingers, caressed those soft lovely lips. “The space between those fingers,” I nodded to his digits. “the millions of miles across this table.”

He let loose a laugh so sonorous that I nearly melted, melted like an ice cube that met a welding torch, “You know darlin, I could listen to you forever; though, I do have to contest your “giving up on great love” that right there was living with more passion than most people encounter just once in a lifetime.” He leaned foreword in his chair, brushing his soft knuckles over my cheek; he caught my eyes and kept them. his delicate tongue licking lightly at his bottom lip then hovering, hovering as if there was an idea just on the tip of it that tasted like heaven.  “You must actually great love is like in those movies, a tormented longing and a nearly lost boredom that calls itself togetherness.”  He breathed as my cheek nestled into his palm my lashes cuddling my cheeks. “mmm, the space between… the breadth and expansion of this 22 inches of table top, you are right suddenly these 22 inches” his hand circled around the back of my neck as his other hand motioned to the faux green marble between us. “It might as well be millions of miles.  Love, great or no, is more fire and sudden outbursts of thunder and lightening,” he leaned just a little further, his frame starting to dwarf mine, “it is really a hurricane of feelings that falls out of nowhere, revolutionizing everything.” He breathed lightly caressing my ear, pushing my hair behind.  “My turn to and I will offer up a confession, I have watched these lips of yours talk all night, they caress the words holding them lovingly before you lick the air letting them free.” His thumb reached over lightly caressing my bottom lip, “I have sat as you have ravished me with words, words so very alive, words that cut, that dance and breathe, their gorgeous tumescence of their weight until I could not breathe.”

He leaned even further, his breath caressing my cheek, my eyes fluttered closed, “Without knowledge, forethought, without reason I began to crave one thing; I have tried to hammer it down into my soul, not wanting to be too fast, too bold. I have read though, and I know this to be true; we are punished by the universe for our refusals, refusal of our impulses our longings.  Every single impulse that we strangle broods in the mind, the heart, and it poisons us. The body sins but once and it is done with its sin, for the action itself is a mode of purification; leaving nothing but a sweet recollection of the pleasure, or the luxury of a regret.  Although I do not believe that this temptation would result in any regret.”

I gazed as deeply into his eyes as possible, reading those sweet possibilities.  “What pray tell would that temptation be?” My voice sounding foreign, my tongue sticking to my teeth, my breath simpering.

He smiled, his breath light over my soul, “Well, obviously, your kiss.” I know I stopped breathing my mouth dropped open. “I ache for the arch of your perfectly shaped lips pressing against mine. I thirst for your sweet flavour on my tongue, inundating my soul like dark chocolate. I am ravenous for your delicious scent to fill my lungs.”

I dropped my eyes for a moment to his beautiful lips. “Well, to finish your Oscar Wilde paraphrase; the only way to get rid of a temptation is to yield to it. Resist it, and your soul grows sick with longing for the things it has forbidden to itself.”

His hand swooped to the base of my neck, not pulling me, just holding me still, tipping my head back, he moved swift his lips covering mine. He kissed me like ice cream; he kissed me like a stanza of poetry, like a slow summer waltz; rough, but in a gentle way, like the receding tide, the waves only rushing lightly, licking at my ankles, washing soft sand from my skin on the very last day of fall; and the whole time there was that little laugh between us, sweet and silly. We kissed for an eternity, maybe just a minute, that laugh grew and we parted for just a moment to smile and kissed again, longer deeper, there is nothing possibly more beautiful than the look he gave me as we kissed again... and again and again and again... @peonies-and-poppies @pedeka or not @writernotwaiting