#the curve of his back…. the way he looks at emile ?!?!!!?? help me ?????? | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

rosesisupposes · 4 years ago

Text

Objections, Your Honor

Two lawyers are across the aisle in open court once more. But today something is off, and no one is happy with the result.

read on ao3

characters: mainly Logan & Janus; background Virgil, Patton, Roman, Remus, Remy, and Emile

pairings: soulmate Loceit; QPP Analogical; QPP Moceit; romantic soulmate Royality; romantic soulmate Dukexiety; romantic soulmate Remile

content tags: non-traditional soulmate AU; courtroom drama; arophobia and acephobia; shameless self-pandering with legal arguments about the MCU; gushing about QPPs; couples therapy

reader tags: @royally-anxious @jemthebookworm @arandompasserby @sparkly-rainbow-salt @astral-eclipse @thelowlysatsuma @adorably-angsty @max-is-tired @almostoveranalyzed @potestessemagishomosexualitatis @mariniacipher @vintage-squid

word count: 10,386

⁂

The day it happened was no normal day for Logan. But not, of course, because of that.

He cared because it was a trial day. Months of motions back and forth, weeks and weeks of preparation, and today was oral arguments. He normally avoided open court, particularly against such an opponent, but nothing could be done.

His case files were impeccably arranged in his padfolio, his grocery list of arguments annotated in precise writing, blue ink dotting the page with emphases and connections, his notepad prepared at his left.

He glanced to his right out of the corner of his eye at his opposing counsel. He didn't want them to see him looking. But he sneered internally at the haphazard stacks of papers spreading across the table and the garish gold ink that looped and curved across sticky notes.

The judge finally came out, and Logan stood, crisply buttoning his tailored jacket as he did so. At the signal, he identified himself clearly. "Logan Finch for the appellant, Your Honor."

And then, from his right: "Janus Alighieri for the appellee, Your Honor."

Logan rolled his eyes internally. Janus was, unfortunately, a very familiar foe at this point. But then, they were two of the most respected lawyers in their state, with opposing specialties and reputations for innovative tactics.

Logan was self-aware. He had another reputation, too: as a black-and-white thinker, unshakable, unalterable. He preferred to think of it as a particularly strong conviction. Versus "The Snake" against him, who coiled and twisted the facts of his cases to benefit his clients.

And of course, that was the issue today - Logan strove to show that his client had a straightforward, airtight argument that should clearly prevail, while Janus found miniscule details that he said should be enough to distinguish the case at hand and make it different from previous decisions, enough so to allow the case to be decided in his favor. He'd charmed the jury at trial, and now argued against Logan's appeal.

Logan prided himself on keeping a cool head, but listening to Janus' speech just got under his skin. His neat handwriting started to get messier and messier as he furiously scribbled notes of counterarguments and responses to his opponent's points. Then Janus turned slightly, just enough to see frustration's color burn in Logan's cheek, and he smirked.

Logan barely heard the gasp from the observers behind the bar, because he'd just snapped his pen in his grip.

He looked straight ahead, somewhere slightly to the left of the judge's head, but he saw very little, his furious thoughts too loud to allow any else to be processed. But the audience was murmuring and talking, far louder than any judge usually allowed - what was going on?

A clerk from behind him hurried up to the judge's dais and whispered urgently in her ear. Logan had yet to look around, but he was slowly coming back to himself, enough to be confused at this disruption in normal procedure. He refused to look over at Janus' probably-still-smirking face.

The judge cleared her throat. "Counselors, we will recess for the day. Please join me in my chambers now."

Logan frowned, but cleaned up the broken pen and gathered his file neatly back into his leather briefcase. He didn't look over, but he heard the flurry and crinkling of papers as Janus threw his notes into his own bag. Without glancing over, Logan followed the judge to the small office at the back of the courtroom.

"Mr. Finch, Mr. Alighieri. I do hope there's a good explanation for this breach in propriety, not to mention the code of conduct," she said sternly as they both stood before her heavy desk.

"Breach, Your Honor?" Janus asked. He sounded just as confused as Logan felt.

"As barred attorneys, you are expected to know the code as well as I," Judge Kasel said severely. "No soulmates may be involved in a trial together, except as co-counsel."

Logan's ears roared. "Your Honor, I apologize, I must have misheard. Soulmates? How is that relevant-"

"Mr. Finch, don't play dumb with me - the entire courtroom saw!"

"Saw what?" Janus asked. His voice was oddly distant and strained from its normal silky tones.

Judge Kasel stared at them in disbelief. "You mean to tell me you both managed to not see that? I'm quite certain the entire county saw the glow just now, through even the back of your suits!"

"Glow?" Logan asked. His chest was suddenly very, very empty, a vacuum of air or substance, and had he not been sitting he was sure he would have fainted.

"Yes, glow, both your marks on your shoulders. Given your mutual surprise, I will assume that this was indeed unknown, and will not declare this case a retroactive mistrial. But you will both need to send in replacements from your firms."

Janus spoke up, his voice tinny. "Replacements, Your Honor? I should think even in light of this- development, only one of us would need to withdraw-"

"Mr. Alighieri, while I appreciate your dedication, I will not delay this trial for the entirety of your bonding. I will give you both 3 days to propose counsel to take over, and scheduling will proceed with them."

Oh fuck. Bonding, Logan thought, unable to speak. That absolutely ridiculous expectation.

The clerk poked her head in. "If they need to speak privately, this side office is empty."

"Yes," Logan responded robotically. "Yes, I believe we need to speak."

They filed into the small room. The clerk closed the door behind her, whispering "Congratulations!" as she disappeared.

Janus sat in one of the chairs heavily. Logan remained standing, staring blankly at the bookshelves built into the wall.

"I can't believe this," Janus said finally. "We've known each other for years, how could we possibly be...?"

"Soulmarks frequently emit a barely visible glow from proximity alone, particularly when located on skin that is generally covered. Heightened emotion or situations with high levels of stress lead to brighter glows that were invisible or unnoticed previously," Logan recited dully.

"Oh yes, how could I forget, I'm talking to Encyclopedia Brown," Janus said, rolling his eyes. "Of course you've memorized that too." He unbuttoned his suit vest dexterously despite his trademark yellow gloves, slumping forward in his chair as he threw his vest over the arm carelessly.

"At least one of us actually has a factual basis for this event, rather than us both being in the dark," Logan snapped back.

"Yeah, your vast knowledge of facts really helped! Did your misguided quest to know everything somehow miss the detail of who's your fucking soulmate?" Janus said, nearly whisper-screaming.

Logan whirled to face him, a fiery reply already on his lips, when he suddenly saw a blue light showing through Janus' white shirt, bright enough to glint off the polished chair back and off the glass of the picture frames on the wall.

He closed his eyes, breathing out slowly. "Yes. That was a detail I had not learned. It felt trivial, unable to affect my work. But now that it has, we're better off resolving this."

Janus deflated too. "Yeah. We should. If we can just get through this part, at least we'll stop glowing like horny teenagers."

Logan focused on a tiny flag displayed on the desk as he spoke, not looking over. "I know of a very respectable landlord who rents bonding apartments in the city. Nothing overdone or kitschy, no 'honeymoon' suites, just furnished apartments for indefinite stays."

"Fine. Not like we can't afford it, whatever the price."

"I have some arrangements to make at home-" Logan began

"As do I, unless-"

"Unless what?"

Janus took a breath. "How would you feel about living with a snake?"

"I rather thought that was the entire idea," Logan replied coolly.

Janus shot him a withering glare. "I mean a python, you absolute cotton-headed ninnymuggin."

"Ah, my mistake," Logan said calmly. "That should be fine. A pet, I assume? Or your chosen co-counsel?"

"Let's get one thing straight, Finch," Janus said, rising to his full height, looking down at his infuriating opponent. "I don't like you. I don't expect or particularly want you to like me. We are going to be residing together up until, and only until, our illogical marks have decided in their weird cosmic energy to stop lighting up like neon signs whenever we experience strong emotion in each other's company. I fully expect to be pissed off the entire time, which will make figuring that out easier. But you do not get to speak to me that way, or I'll-"

Logan looked up to meet Janus' eyes. "Or you'll what, Alighieri?"

"I'll report you to the bar for breaking the code, and convince them you already knew," Janus replied smoothly. "And you of all people should know- I am very persuasive."

Logan's eyes narrowed, but he nodded. "Fine. And yes, you may bring your python. I'll be leaving my cat at home, however."

"Fine with me," Janus said curtly, deflating back into his normal slouch.

"I will send you the details of the landlord I mentioned. I can make the arrangements within the hour."

"Sure. Wait-"

"What?"

"How are you going to send me the details?"

Logan paused. Their only real contact over the years had been in person or by professional communications. He could hardly use a process server or subpoena to give Janus his key. "Ah. Right. Your contact information, then?" He pulled out his notepad.

Janus pulled out his gold pen and scribbled his phone number at an angle, entirely crossing the college-ruled lines. Logan cringed but took it.

"I will contact you shortly, then. And I will may sure to look for pet-friendly apartments."

Janus nodded. "Right."

"Right."

They both paused.

"Uh. See you soon, then," Janus said, and left the room abruptly.

⁂

Janus had to hand it to him - the apartment was all Logan had promised. Clean, sleek, and spacious. The landlord had even left a spare heat lamp, so Janus' sweet Monty would be comfortable.

Best of all, there were several separate rooms in the suite - two bed, two bath, and two offices.

The kitchen was also well-furnished, and came stocked with staple foods. Logan had arrived, however, with extra bags of groceries.

"I brought my own additions," he said. "The landlord is a friend, but he doesn't buy from the shops I prefer."

He proceeded to pull out several large jars of kimchi, what looked like at least a gallon of soy sauce, and various bright packages that Janus couldn't read.

Janus resolved to take pictures and look up what these things were later. Not while Logan was standing here, glaring up and over as if daring him to comment.

"I've picked the smaller bedroom," Janus informed the shorter man calmly. "Monty is set up in there, so if you're weird about snakes, just avoid it. Actually, feel free to avoid it anyway. I've got a brief to write."

Logan made a noncommittal sound in response.

Hours later, Janus emerged from his office to eat something. His brief was finished, sent off to his senior partner. He hadn’t yet told the firm about the day’s events- only that the appeal would need to be handled by another partner with his associates’ help, he needed to take emergency leave, and he would let them know soon how long he expected to be unavailable. H

e found evidence in the kitchen that Logan had prepared, eaten, and cleaned up dinner for himself. That was fine by him. He made his own food, grabbed a bag of candy, and retreated back to his room.

The next morning, he woke up at his normal late time, stretching in the sun. The kitchen once again showed evidence of Logan's presence- particularly the currently-soaking coffee pot.

When the sun started to descend once more and Janus had yet to see his new roommate, he grumbled. Guess he'd have to be the fucking practical one.

He blew Monty a kiss for good luck and stumped down to the rooms Logan had claimed. He rapped on the door. "Finch. We need to talk."

He waited. There was silence, then a slow drag of a chair. The doors cracked open.

"Yes? What about?"

"No. We need to talk. Or, fuck, I don't know. Be in the same room occasionally."

Logan sighed deeply, and opened the door more. "Fine."

Janus went to the living room and sat on one side of the couch. Logan followed him and settled on the chair facing him.

"So." Janus began.

"So what," Logan replied flatly.

"Sew buttons," Janus replied automatically.

"What?"

"Just something one of my friends says," Janus muttered.

"Ah. So what was it you want to discuss?"

"I don't know!" Janus snapped. "But I'd really like to get back to my life, eventually, and that can only happen if we bond." His lip curled.

Logan sighed heavily. "And how, exactly, do you propose we do that?”

Janus fell silent. He had very few ideas. Pop culture made it very clear that bonding was an extremely romantic event. First kisses. Proposals. Or, in the less sappy movies, it seemed to consist purely of falling into bed together. None of which appealed in the least, particularly not with Logan.

Logan stared expectantly. "Nothing? You just pulled me out with no ideas?"

"If you're the fucking brilliant one, you come up with one then!" Janus spat out the suggestion with a glare, but then he saw it - a soft gold glow shining through Logan's tee, reflected in the tasteful mirror behind him.

They both deflated again, glows reducing down to hidden beneath their clothes.

Logan adjusted his glasses. "I. Ah. Apologize. I realize you are attempting to resolve this issue."

"But you're right. I have no idea how to," Janus admitted.

Logan took off his glasses to rub his eyes. "Unfortunately, neither do I. Perhaps just coexisting will be enough."

"How long will that take, though?"

"I haven't the foggiest."

They lapsed into silence.

Finally, Janus suggested, "Maybe we can do our work in the same room. Set up in the dining room with all our stuff. Coexist but in proximity."

Logan glanced over. "That seems relatively painless. Let us make an attempt, then."

⁂

Logan had not had any particular expectations for how well they could share a work space.

And yet, it was still far worse than he'd expected.

Janus talked to himself. As he read, as he wrote, as he researched. Not loud, but a constant stream of soft muttering, disjointed words and full sentences.

It was the most distracting thing Logan had ever been suffered to experience.

"Will you please be quiet," he said tightly, after an hour passed with no signs of letup.

"What do you mean?" Janus asked.

"That infernal whispering, please, could you stop?"

Janus looked at him quizzically.

"You're talking under your breath," Logan said. He felt a headache coming on.

"Oh, am I?" Janus asked. "Sorry. I'll be quiet."

It lasted all of half an hour, and then the muttering started again. "SCOTUS said yes but that was a city sidewalk, 2nd says no but that was Lincoln Center, hm, decoration, use, separation, intent?"

"You're doing it again!"

Janus looked slightly guilty. "It's barely conscious, it's how I process things. Could you just wear headphones?"

"I need silence."

"Noise-canceling, then?"

"Fine. Do you own a pair?"

But the headphones didn't help. The sensation was too odd, of being closed-in, and he kept bumping then as he went to lean against his hand. Finally, Logan stood. "I'm going back to my office. This experiment has failed."

Janus' eyes narrowed. "Well, thanks for deigning to sit in my presence for a full three hours before giving up."

"I'm not giving up, this is just not tenable!" Logan insisted.

"Well, you asked for ideas, and I came up with one. If it's not working for you, you come up with a better one. Come find me when you're done thinking, I know it could take you a while."

He stood and grabbed an apartment key, and stalked out to walk off his frustration.

As he walked, he called his best friend.

"Hey Pat, it's me."

"Jan! Hi buddy, how are you?!"

He sighed heavily. "I want to go home."

"But you only just got there?"

"Yeah, and it's going shi- I mean, badly. Really badly."

"I'm sure you'll work it out," Patton said confidently. "You're a brilliant and wonderful human, and anyone smart enough to argue against you will be able to see that!"

"Thanks, hun," Janus said. "The fact remains that I also don't like him."

Patton hummed tunelessly. "It doesn't have to be instant, Jan. These things usually take time."

"Unlike you and Ro."

"Well, yes, but that's because we were meant to be!" Patton soft, his voice taking on that soft, besotted tone it always did when he talked about his soulmate.

"Isn't the whole point that all soulmates are meant to be?"

"Well, yes..." Patton faltered. "But it doesn't have to look like us, we're just hopeless romantics!"

"I know. How's wedding planning going?"

"We started watching movies for inspiration and got distracted with a Disney marathon," Patton said fondly.

"But you had fun?"

"Absolutely!"

"Good," Janus said, meaning it. There were very few people, in his opinion, who deserved happiness the way Patton did.

He was quiet for a moment, then asked, "Pat- what if it was a mistake? What if we just have defective marks or something?"

"I'm sure that's not true!" Patton insisted.

"It just seems like - I mean, we're not even friends. Most people get to start from strangers at worst, but we've been antagonizing each other for years, what if, I don't know. Neither of us had a soulmate and so they glitched out?"

"You just need to find some common ground," Patton said confidently. "You can't both be so passionate about being lawyers without something more in common. I believe in you, buddy!"

Janus sighed. "Thanks, Pat. Say hi to Roman for me, tell him Monty misses him."

"Will do, nephew! Call any time you need, okay?"

"Love you, Pat."

"Love you tooooo!"

Janus realized he'd circled the block and was back at the apartment entrance. He steeled himself, then went back up. He repressed the petty urge to bang open the door to disturb Logan's quiet as much as possible.

Logan wasn't in the common spaces, but emerged not long after Janus returned.

"I feel I must apologize," he began. "It wasn't my intent to denigrate how you work. It is just clear that sharing a workspace is not going to be preferable for either of us."

"Yes, I'm aware I had a bad idea," Janus said, overly patient. "Kind of an odd apology, but I accept. Can I have lunch now?"

"Yes, of course. May I join you?" Logan asked.

Janus raised a distrusting brow.

"The idea of spending time in the same space was a good one. I thought we might try a context in which we don't need to focus."

"Fine."

They prepared food around each other, both managing to bite their tongues when they needed the same counter space or cooking implements, which Janus was proud of himself for. They ate in silence.

Janus heard Logan sigh in exasperation and braced himself for yet another snippy comment. Instead, he heard an unexpected question.

"Do you enjoy superheroes?"

"To eat? No, they upset my stomach," Janus replied drily.

"I mean to watch. Superhero movies and shows."

"Occasionally, yeah, why?"

"Perhaps we could watch one this evening. At the same time."

"Sure."

And they parted to continue working on their own.

⁂

Logan had been correct that, as far as superhero movies went, the MCU was a safe choice.

In retrospect, though, perhaps Civil War had been... less so.

It had started when Steve first objected to the Sokovia Accord plan- and Logan had scoffed.

Quick as a cat’s pounce, or an adder’s strike, Janus’ head whipped around.

“You disagree?”

Logan glanced over briefly, screen light blinking off his glasses. “Well, of course. Didn’t New York and Sokovia show that some control is needed? Lawlessness leads to more civilian casualties.”

“And yet, if supers are controlled so much that risk of liability keeps them from acting at all, casualties would be just a tad higher, don’t you think?”

Tony and Steve’s voices raised on the screen as Logan replied, “What would the difference be of the villains and heroes if they all act with complete impunity?”

“Oh, I’m sorry, did we lose mens rea when we switched over into Marvel-land?” Janus asked, voice clipped. “Isn’t the entire basis of our modern penal system based on culpability, not just the act or harm done?”

Logan looked down his nose. “Of course culpability matters. But you well know that one of the factors for absolute liability is when an act is inherently and extremely dangerous. Say, for instance, displays of superhuman force in a densely populated area.”

“So you don’t think there can be any space for personal judgment on the heroes’ behalf?” Janus asked incredulously.

“Look what that space did already! Does the name Ultron ring a bell?”

“So of course, the one who made a terrible call is the one who now wants to be restricted? That sounds like asking for the global government to save him from himself instead of taking responsibility.”

“Better that those with actual accountability be the ones bearing the responsibility!”

“Oh, yeah, and we can definitely trust this government’s judgment! A Hydra infestation was all part of the plan!” Janus’ voice was raising, far louder than the movie that still flickered on, ignored.

“There still needs to be rule of law! Steve wants to abandon it all for one person, and a war criminal at that-!”

“And that’s incomprehensible?”

“Of course!”

Janus fixed his supposed soulmate with a glare. “And you mean to tell me that there’s no one, no one, that you would be willing to burn the world down for?”

Logan opened his mouth to respond, but Janus continued quickly before he could. “No one who won’t fight for themselves, because they think they’re not worth it, but you know they’re so worth it that you would be willing to kill for them?”

Logan, about to spit out an impulsive reply, paused, momentarily speechless. As clearly as if they were sitting on the edge of the couch next to him, his best friend from childhood filled his mind. Virgil, who never believed their worth no matter how many times Logan and their soulmate Remus told them so.

Janus saw the pause and continued softly. “I’m not saying rule of law isn’t important. But the trouble with laws is they’re only as tailored as legislators make them. And they’re human, and therefore fallible. We need exceptions, for those situations that they didn’t imagine.”

Logan struggled for moment, then replied, just as quietly, “You’re right.”

Janus’ mouth fell open in shock, but just as he did, the tv’s faint blue glow throughout the room was washed over with two beacons in blue and gold, blazing from their backs.

At the sight, Logan’s face went from contemplative and open to stony. He stood abruptly and stalked off into his room. The door closed behind him with a decisive click, and Janus was left staring at the wood in confusion and anger.

⁂

“I just don’t get it!” Janus whisper-screamed into the phone. He was power walking through a nearby park, moving so fast he’d passed a skateboarder and a particularly leisurely biker. “Does he want to keep on glowing forever? What is his problem?!”

Patton made sympathetic noises in response, quite familiar with the sound of Janus in full rant mode. Roman was lying with his head in his lap, listening on speaker, so Patton was settled in to be as receptive to his friend’s complaints as he needed.

“I mean, we finally agreed on something, besides the fact that we want to get this fucking resolved, and then he just, what, shuts me out? Literally and figuratively? I literally can’t even catch him leaving to the kitchen for food now!”

Patton winced. “Not since? But it’s been two days!”

“Two and a half, yeah,” Janus replied. His voice suddenly sounded weary. “I can’t keep doing this. The trial’s going on without us anyway, I might as well just give it up and make sure I never have to argue against him again.”

At that, Roman sat bolt upright. “Janus, my dear esquire! You cannot abandon your quest! This is your soulmate!”

“Yeah, well. Maybe some soulmarks are broken. Or we just met at the wrong time. Maybe if we’d met in law school we would have been a team, but now it’s too late.”

Janus sounded contemptuous, but Patton could hear a distinct note of regret.

“Maybe...” he started, but trailed off, thinking.

“Maybe what, Pat?”

“Well, it’s just that I’ve heard of soulmates who, you know, take an abnormally long time to bond, or manage to un-bond after years together, but they can fix it. Do you remember my old roommate?”

Janus wrinkled his nose. “Patton, are you suggesting couple’s therapy? I’m fairly certain that only applies to couples.”

“Well, you’ve kinda been forced to be one, right? At least to figure out bonding? They could probably help, or at least let you know if it’s not worth the effort.”

Janus sighed. “No, you’re right, it’s a good idea. I just have no idea how I’ll get Finch to go along with it.”

“Might I make a suggestion?” Roman asked politely.

“Sure.”

“Perhaps try calling him ‘Logan.’”

Janus rolled his eyes. “Worth a shot, I guess. Love you both.”

“Love you Jan!”

“Best of luck with the love of your soul!”

Back in the apartment, Logan was pacing in precise squares in his bedroom. He half-expected the rug to be worn down by the repeated impact at this point.

“L, I don’t know what to tell you, buddy,” the gravely voice on the phone said. “You really have only two options here: find a way to avoid him forever, which will probably involve having to turn down cases you’d like-“

“I bet he’d stay on them just to force me off,” Logan interrupted, growling.

“That is a possibility,” Virgil replied, their voice overly patient. “The other option, though, is to work this out,” they continued.

Logan scoffed.

“Lo, that doesn’t mean you’ve gotta turn into a Hallmark movie! But it’s clear this isn’t just going away, and it’s not like you’ve got nothing in common.”

Logan groaned. “Virge, I don’t-“

“I know, man. I know. But you can’t just hide in your room until he just decides to move out, which means you’re gonna have to talk to him at some point.”

Logan didn’t reply, just continued pacing.

“You know I’m right, Lo,” Virgil said patiently. “You don’t have to say it, just promise me you’re not going to keep being a hermit, okay?”

Logan sighed. “I promise.”

“There we go. I’ll talk to you later, okay?”

About to hang up, Logan heard a voice in the background and Virgil asked him to wait. Then, “Reme wants to say hi.”

Logan let out an exasperated sigh, but he was smiling. “Fine, I’ll allow it-“

“Loooogggyyyyy! How’s the soulmate boning going? Have you figured out that you’re a power bottom yet?”

“Hello, Remus. I take it you’re well.”

“Let’s just say I’m glad you’re my brother-in-law because I may have some need for a lawyer soon.”

Logan couldn’t conceal the grin from his voice as he replied, “As I know you know, I am not a defense attorney, nor would I ever be so unwise as to take you as a client.”

“Aww, you’re such a smart cookie! And by cookie I mean a snack, because mmmm-MMMm you’re a snacc!”

“Always glad to know I’m appreciated,” Logan replied drily. “Goodbye, Virgil. Goodbye, Remus.”

“See ya, L.”

“Byeeeeeeeeeee!”

⁂

When Janus returned, he was a bit taken aback to see Logan sitting in an armchair, reading. At the sound of the door, he looked up.

“Ah, Alighieri. I- I wanted to apologize for my behavior.”

Janus paused. It was a good sign, but still so unexpected as to be unsettling.

Logan cleared his throat. “I shouldn’t have left you in a lurch. You did not cause this situation anymore than did I, and you have not been unkind. I have a suggestion for how we might move forward.”

Janus winced internally, thinking of another disastrous attempt at a movie or workspace. “I actually had a thought on that as well, but um. What was yours?”

Logan cleared his throat again. “Well, since we have been... brought into this situation together, but as a pair are struggling to adjust, it seems logical to consult with an expert, much as we would in our work. Therefore, we should consult a professional on personal relationships.”

“Oh, thank god,” muttered Janus. “Yeah, I was gonna suggest a couples counselor too. I think that would make sense. And I actually have a personal reference to a very experienced therapist.”

That settled, they found the earliest possible appointment, only two days later.

“I do need to warn you-“ Janus said as they walked up to the office. It was their first time out of the apartment together, and it had been a very quiet walk over. “The methods of this therapist are- unorthodox. But they are highly acclaimed in their field.”

“Oh, are they an enby?” Logan asked.

“Yes and no,” Janus replied. “You see, there’s two of them.”

“Two?”

“Yeah, they’re a couple therapist that is also a couple.”

“I don’t- well- I mean, that’s odd, right?”

Janus grinned. “Yeah, odd is a common word to describe them. But they’re highly praised and like I said, they were recommended personally.”

“Right,” Logan said, squaring his shoulders. “An open mind is helpful for effective therapy, after all.”

“That’s the spirit! I think,” Janus replied, holding the door open.

A gothy receptionist showed them to a private room with a comfortably large couch. Logan looked around in trepidation and slight alarm at the decorations. There were countless Funko-Pops, posters, stuffed animals, and an alarmingly high number of travel mugs from what looked like every single cartoon that had ever existed.

Janus was slightly more prepared then Logan, but he still jumped out of his skin by the sudden singing coming around the door. A deep voice was booming, “Duhhh duh-duh-duh-duh-da-DUH!” in a building crescendo that went on and on, until both lawyers were staring in a mixture of confusion and irritation.

Then a tall, lanky man slid in the door and lowered his glasses to wink at them both. “Hey babes. Welcome to therapy.”

The singer followed him through the door, their bright pink hair a sharp contrast to their warm brown skin. “And thank you as always for the intro, honey!”

They smiled, big and toothy. “Welcome indeed! I’m Dr. Emile Picani, pronouns they/them, and this tall drink of coffee is my partner, Dr. Remy Picani, pronouns he/him! And you are Janus and Logan, correct?”

Logan looked a bit stunned still, so Janus took the lead. “Yes, I’m Janus Alighieri and this is Logan Finch, pronouns he/him for both. And I was referred by Patton Corwan-Augustus.”

Emile smiled even bigger, if that were possible. “Oh Patty! Best roommate ever, I still miss his brownies. It’s lovely to meet you both!”

“Best roommate? What am I, chopped liver?” Remy asked, hand pressed to his chest.

“Best friend, best coffee-maker, best of men and best of husbands,” Emile replied, and said husband immediately blushed.

Logan coughed politely. “Have you been married long?”

Remy smiled, still pink around the edges. “We’ve actually been married almost 10 years. The minute we graduated university, actually, when we knew our parents had not a shred left of financial control. We went through our PhDs together, which is why, of course, we’re qualified to help out other couples, because let me tell you, would not recommend.”

“Which brings us, of course, to you two!” Emile said brightly. “What is your goal in coming to therapy?”

Janus and Logan both began speaking at once.

“Well, it started in court-“

“It was completely unexpected, we’ve known each other for years-“

“-dreadfully embarrassing, not to mention the professional ramifications-“

“-it just feels like something’s missing-“

“-really want to just sort this out-“

“-just want to figure out the disconnect-“

“-and we can forget about the whole thing.”

“-want to make this work.”

They looked at each other, shocked, as their words both sank in.

Emile was tapping their Powerpuff Girls pencil topper steadily against their lips, eyes wide behind their pink-framed glasses.

Remy, at their side, leaned back and took a long, loud slurp of his iced coffee, rattling the ice around until the room’s attention was on him. Then he looked up and said, “Hoooo-wheee.”

“So I’m getting a lot of differing goals here,” Emile said delicately. “Let’s start with you, Janus. Can you expand, please?”

Janus tried to speak, but felt like his voice had dropped into the cold pit that was suddenly his stomach. “I, um,” he started with a shaky breath. He barely noticed when Remy pushed a cup of ice water into his hand, but a sip steadied him somewhat.

“You can look just at me, if that helps,” Emile said softly. “Or at my buddy Kaa here.” They gestured to the stuffed snake on the shelf behind them.

He looked like a fuzzy little Monty. That would do.

“Thank you, Doctor,” Janus said, acknowledging the water from Remy. “So. We’ve been rival lawyers for years, because we’re both the best at what we do. It was shocking, to suddenly be glowing in open court, but I thought we just needed to find common ground that’s not arguing. That’s why I’m here, at least.”

“And Logan?” Emile asked, still in that kind voice. Logan wouldn’t meet their eyes, though, or anyone’s.

“I thought- we both seemed so upset by the news. Or at least, I was, and perceived you to be as well.” He didn’t look up as he addressed Janus, but his eyes shifted over and took root on Janus’ polished loafers. “My plan was to spend whatever time was needed to stop glowing, then get back to our respective lives.”

“Do either of you have a question you’d like to ask of one another?” Remy asked. “It can be as large or small scale as you’d like, serious or frivolous.”

Both men looked up at the lanky therapist, who’d actually removed his dark glasses, revealing slightly foggy-looking irises. “Logan, it looks like you have one.”

“Oh- yes. So, Alighieri- I mean, Janus. To be clear- you were not upset by the news?”

Janus took a breath. “I mean, I was shocked, and upset to be removed in the middle of a case. But not about the soulmate thing, specifically. And I have a question too?” He looked to the therapists, who both nodded.

Janus looked over, and saw the Logan was watching him in his periphery. “When you say you were upset about the news- was it about the soulmate thing, or about me as your soulmate?”

Logan actually sat up, looking shocked. “Oh, goodness gracious. Absolutely about the concept of ‘soulmate’ in general, not personal in any way. Did I-?”

“Well, yeah, a bit,” Janus said.

“I am- I am so sorry. I would have absolutely have been equally upset, no matter who I found to be an accidental soulmate.”

Janus felt his stomach unclench just a bit.

“Logan, what about soulmates in general upsets you?” Emile asked.

Logan’s mouth pressed into a thin line, and he stayed silent for a moment, then two. Finally, he said curtly, “I never asked for one. And no one asked if I wanted one, either.”

“No one asked if I wanted to be trans, and yet here I am,” Emile said with a cheeky grin. “We don’t always get a say over the circumstances of our birth.”

“But Emmy, you’ve found self-acceptance and happiness deriving from coming out,” Remy put in. “Logan, were you content with life before this reveal?”

Logan nodded.

“So there was no sense of dysphoria prior, or absence of a euphoria that was gained since.”

Again, Logan nodded.

“Couldn’t-“ Janus began. His throat felt a bit stuck. “Couldn’t there be something to be gained, though?”

Logan picked up a small figurine of Dexter from the table next to the couch, and fiddled with it in his lap as he spoke. “It’s not impossible, there could certainly be gains from a better acquaintance with you. But that’s not what a soulmate is supposed to be, is it? They’re supposed to complete you,” he said, his voice dripping in disdain. “Because you were incomplete before. Because you weren’t enough, alone, you were just waiting for the One. And of course, you can’t be trusted to find them yourself, some cosmic force determines it for you.”

Remy rested his hand in his hand, elbow propped on his knee. “Spill it, sis.”

Logan stared in confusion.

Remy smiled. “It means, approximately, ��continue, you’ve got something good to say’. I’m getting a lot here- but a lot of the frustration seems to be with the idea that forces you can’t control are messing with your life, is that fair?”

Logan shifted. “Well, yeah, but that makes me sound like a control freak.”

“Not at all,” Janus interrupted. “Of course you don’t want something incomprehensible to make decisions for you. That’s not controlling, that’s perfectly understandable and human!”

Logan managed a small smile in response.

Emile beamed. “I couldn’t have said it better myself!”

“But I am def gonna poke some holes in your thought bubble,” Remy said cheerfully. “Starting with this: what do you mean when you say a soulmate is intended to be The One?”

Logan stared in disbelief. “Come on. Really? Look at, I don’t know, any piece of media ever. Or at you two. Or at my- friend and his husband. Or any other pair of soulmates!”

Janus added, “I mean, that’s what’s intended, right? With the whole ‘marked from birth’ thing?”

Emile looked at them both very seriously. “Did you know that Remy isn’t The One for me?”

“But he’s your soulmate?” Janus gasped out.

Emile nodded gravely. “He is my soulmate. But he is not my only soulmate.”

“I was designated female at birth to very traditional parents. They wanted me to marry my soulmate at 18, like they had, and they assumed he’d be a man. But my other soulmate was a girl, and I loved her with all my heart. And when I realized I wasn’t a girl, I thought my parents might accept us more. I was wrong.” They took a breath. “We were separated. I don’t know what happened to her. But it was enough to know that my parents didn’t care about my happiness, soulmate or no.”

“I’m so sorry,” Logan said quietly, and Janus nodded, swallowing a lump in his throat.

“I was lucky, though,” they continued. “I found Remy only two years later. And he accepted me as I am, both my gender and my other soulmate. And the cartoons, of course.”

“I never got to meet her,” Remy said. “So we will never know if she was my soulmate, too. I choose to believe she wasn’t. I think she could have been Emile’s one and only, had they been able to stay together. And that doesn’t make me feel any less lucky to be Emile’s husband, nor any less loved by them.”

“And not to shock you even more, but not all soulmates are romantic,” Emile said. “I know that’s the media portrayal- but well, the media is also pretty straight. And cis. And white. And neurotypical. And-”

“What they’re getting at,” Remy interrupted, “is that common portrayals miss a lot of the variety and complexity of humanity as a whole, let alone the complexity of relationships.”

Logan was sitting very still, and not speaking. Janus was trying to wrap his mind around this, and spoke with uncharacteristic uncertainty as he asked, “So- for instance, um, you could have soulmates who are, uh, queerplatonic partners?”

Logan’s head snapped up, staring at Janus with wide eyes.

Remy grinned. “Yes, of course! I was worried I was going to have to do a vocab lesson, but you both seem to know what that is.”

“But-“ Janus began, brows furrowing.

“But that means-“ Logan muttered to himself.

“Why isn’t he my soulmate?” Janus asked, at the same time Logan asked, “Why aren’t they my soulmate?”

Lit by the twin glows reflecting against the wall, the therapist couple exchanged a pregnant look. Emile reached out and took a hand of each patient. “I know this is a lot to process, but I really want you to keep something in mind: a soulmate is not the only way we can love someone. It’s not the ‘best’ way or only valid way to love someone. The same way the platonic love you clearly both hold for a significant person in your life is no less valid than romantic.”

Remy sat up straight. “I want you both to think about this when you go home. Your love for your QPPs is wonderful, and worth cherishing. And I know you are both lawyers, so here’s a question for you to brief. We cannot know the actual intent of whatever force gave you marks that respond to each other. So I want to you look for what evidence there might be, in each other, for your connection.”

Emile added on, “You have a link, and it’s worth exploring. It doesn’t have to ever be more important, more meaningful than another connection you have. But understanding it is critical to bonding successfully.”

“I think we should wrap there, for this week,” Remy added. “But you can talk about this, of course, without us.”

Janus and Logan nodded, and left. The walk home was as quiet as the walk there had been, but this time the air thrummed with thoughts and ponderings.

⁂

Janus and Logan made dinner with relatively little talk, only quiet asks to pass a spice or a cooking implement. It wasn't an uncomfortable quiet, but one where their minds were far too loud to vocalize just yet.

Janus quietly suggested putting on TV, and picked the game show network as a neutral, unobjectionable option.

They ate as they watched, still burdened with their own thoughts, but slowly started to murmur the correct questions under their breath before the Jeopardy contestants were able to.

Final Jeopardy, as luck would have it, was on Latin - but specifically, Latin as used in law. Both attorneys chuckled at the contestants' answers, some of which weren't even close to correct.

Janus directed a cautious smile in Logan's direction, and found it reciprocated. But as he saw that familiar glow start to reflect off the walls, he tensed, waiting for Logan flee once more.

For the first time, though, he didn't. His eyes widened as he took in the lights, but he didn't move to stand or leave.

"About today-" Logan began. "I don't know that I am quite ready to discuss it all, but I did want to once again apologize for my handling of this situation, and its emotional impact on you. It was entirely unintentional, but I regret causing you distress."

"Thank you," Janus replied softly. "And thank you for being willing and open to go to counseling. I learned a lot today, all of it important."

"I'd like to talk about it tomorrow, if you'd be willing," Logan added. "There are some additional details I need to share, but I don't think I'm able at the present moment."

"Sounds good," Janus nodded. "I'm going to turn in for the night. Sleep well."

"You as well."

But despite feeling tired, Janus found he wasn't at all sleepy. He ended up sitting up until the wee hours of the morning, stroking Monty gently and thinking a great deal.

⁂

The next morning, Janus woke up much earlier than his usual habit, but he needn't have worried - Logan was clearly waiting for him in the kitchen, sipping coffee and idly solving the entire Sunday crossword.

He looked up at the sound of Janus' door, and indicated the mostly-full coffee pot with a nod. Janus gratefully filled a mug for himself and lightened it thoroughly with cream, drinking deep as he stood angled so that he could offer critique and suggestions on the crossword.

"No, shush," Janus said, though Logan had not spoken. "It's gotta be White. Y'know, Betty? C'mon. Most-loved Gold? It's obvious."

Logan just smiled and penned in “White” in the horizontal boxes, immediately able to fill in the Down clues crossing them.

Once the puzzle was complete, Janus refilled his coffee and sat properly at the kitchen island.

"So, if you're amenable-" Logan began. "I believe I'm prepared to discuss yesterday in more detail."

Janus nodded. "Did you want to start off?"

"Yes, I think I must. Because there was one detail that I wasn't quite prepared to share that I think will be quite helpful in securing a full understanding."

At Janus' encouraging nod, Logan closed his eyes to take a breath, and said, "The truth is, I'm an aromantic asexual. That's why the concept of a soulmate was so upsetting to me, particularly because up until this week I had assumed I didn't have one."

Janus looked down. "I'm ace, too, but not aro, and... yeah, same boat, mostly. I thought I wouldn't have one, but when we started to glow, I assumed it must be romantic. But that must not be the case."

Logan tented his fingers together. "So you're not aro, but you do have a QPP?"

"Yeah - I definitely can experience romantic attraction, but what I feel for Patton has always been stronger, and different."

"I'd like to hear about him, if you'd be willing," Logan said softly, and was rewarded by a smile that seemed about to glow as brightly as his soulmark on Janus' face.

"Oh, he's just the best," Janus gushed. "I met him at the perfect time in my life. I'd just been dumped by an asshole because he couldn't deal with the fact that the asexual part wasn't just me being a tease. I was feeling pretty low, post-college, all alone in a new apartment, and then this beam of sunshine turns out to be the kind of neighbor who brings cookies as a greeting. Even though I wasn't exactly receptive, he just kept coming back, even just to check up on me, and soon I found myself looking forward to it, and then inviting myself over in return."

Logan paused. "Wait, your ex broke up with you because you were ace? Was it a surprise?"

Janus rolled his eyes. "No, not in the least. I'd told him, and reminded him, and he'd just been assuming I would 'get over it,' the fucker. Right after the breakup, there were times I wondered if he was right, if I should have just powered through my repulsion to make him happy. But Patton was amazing about that, too. When he heard what happened - oh my goodness, he was so angry on my behalf, he looked like he was going to Hulk out. And then he made it his mission to make sure I was being validated in my identity and knew that I was eminently lovable both in spite of and because of my aceness."

Logan smiled. "That's wonderful. I can see why you love him so much."

Janus sighed happily. "And it hasn't changed even though he's met his allo soulmate. Roman knows that our bond isn't and will never be a threat to theirs, and he makes Pat so happy. They're planning their wedding right now, but they've already signed all the papers and it'll just be a party where they gush about each other in public."

Janus sat for a moment, basking in the glow of his affection for Patton, before he turned to Logan and asked, “You have a QPP too, right?”

“I do,” Logan said, a smile stretching across his face unconsciously. “Their name is Virgil. And they’re also married to their soulmate.”

“Tell me about them,” Janus said, when Logan fell silent.

“They’re- they are just amazing. They’re my best friend, have been since about fourth grade. ” Logan’s eyes went a bit misty as he considered his childhood. “We bonded over being surrounded by idiots, after a debate simulation where we were on opposing sides.”

Janus smirked. “You mean I’m not your first? I’m heartbroken.”

Logan shot him a glare, but it had none of true anger’s heat.

“I guess we always had the feeling that we weren’t quite like everyone else. Besides the introverted tendencies, it wasn’t really a shock when they came out as nonbinary. They’d been online, discovering new terms, and in learning about their identity I ran into the aro and ace labels. I felt seen, do you know what I mean? And then Virgil just compounded that feeling by immediately understanding and accepting me. They call me a brother, just to explain that our relationship isn’t “just” friends.”

“What was it like when they met their soulmate?” Janus asked.

“It wasn’t nearly as smooth as your experience seems to have been,” Logan admitted.

“Their husband is... unique. Prone to rather odd fixations and interests. But he’s also demisexual, and like us, had thought he wouldn’t have a soulmate. And part of his defense mechanism against that kind of rejection was, well. Embracing his off-putting side. Being disgusting for the sake of it. Grossing out others before they could judge him for his orientation.”

Janus grimaced. “I know that feeling, all too well. Donning a mask, so that a rejection won’t be of you, just your persona.”

“Exactly,” Logan said, nodding. “I don’t think it helped that both Virgil’s and Remus’ soulmarks were in their hair. They’d both dyed their hair many times over the years, but it wasn’t enough to hide it. And once they had shown up- there was no more pretending.”

“Was it hard for them?” Janus asked.

“Accepting it was. But then they started actually talking and then it just- clicked. All those macabre interests that overlapped, the mutual obsession with MCR. They fell in love the minute they both let their walls down. And like you said- it never really changed what I had with Virge. They didn’t meet Reme until college, and didn’t get married until last year. So Virge told Reme that I was here to stay, and part of their life, and he accepted it without a blink. He’s a forensic archeologist now, to Virge’s forensic detective, so they’ve actually both been helpful in cases, too.”

“That’s... kind of adorable, in a weird way,” Janus said, scrunching his nose.

Logan chuckled. “‘Adorable in a weird way’ is the best possible description for their relationship.”

Janus tapped his finger on the island. “That sounds so familiar, though, and I can’t quite place it.” He closed his eyes, murmuring under his breath. “Wait! Is Virgil’s husband an Augustus?”

“That was his surname, yes, though now it’s Angelico-“

“Oh my god!” Janus burst out. “That’s Patton’s brother-in-law!”

“What?”

“Roman Augustus! That’s his soulmate’s name! And he had a twin, but they had a falling out and haven’t been in contact for a couple of years. But he said he’d been in forensics!”

Logan blinked. “Well, it is certainly a small world. Not that Remus has ever talked about his brother, but I knew he had one.”

“That’s kind of crazy. What are the chances?” Janus asked, laughing.

Logan looked pointedly over. “Do you really want to know? I could calculate them-“

“Thanks, calculator watch, but I’m good.”

They both chuckled quietly, sitting side by side at the kitchen island.

“Hey, uh- thank you for trusting me, with the other day, and with this,” Janus said softly.

“I owe you thanks as well,” Logan replied. “I don’t frequently have the opportunity to talk about Virgil in detail and it’s- it’s nice.”

Janus just beamed, returning the sentiment without words.

In that moment, the sunlight of the room was tinged with colored light, gold and blue overlapping into rich emerald.

Logan hesitated, seeing it, but after a moment lifted his arm. Janus smiled and leaned in, accepting the offered side-hug.

“Hey Finch- I mean, Logan?”

“Yes Janus?”

“I may not be sure yet why we’re soulmates, but I’m definitely not disappointed that we are.”

A beat.

Then a soft murmur replied, “Neither am I.”

⁂

Later that afternoon, Logan returned from stocking up on more food to find Janus lying upside-down on the couch, lanky legs dangling over the back. His face was red enough to show that he’d been sitting there for a while as the blood rushed downward.

“I cannot imagine that is at all comfortable,” Logan commented drily, neatly putting away the packets of noodles and snacks he’d purchased.

“It helps me think,” Janus replied. “Especially when I’m trying to see something from another perspective.”

Logan’s eyes narrowed. “This better not have been a set-up just to make that terrible pun.”

Janus looked over, grinning. “It actually started that way, not gonna lie. I’d been venting to Patton about an oral argument simulation in law school and he suggested this as a joke. And then it actually helped.”

Logan huffed in what sounded suspiciously like a muffled laugh and came to sit more normally in a chair next to the couch. “So what is it that you’re trying to change your perception of so literally?”

“Our case, actually - Gomex.” At Logan’s quizzical look, he replied, “The partners aren’t letting me onto new cases until they know I’ll be back in person. I’m getting bored. So I thought, you know. Why not figure out what I was missing in this one.” He shrugged, an odd contortion for an inverted torso.

“You were missing something? But you won at trial.”

“And I was caught off-guard by your appeal - or at least, the part where it survived my motion to dismiss.”

Logan allowed himself a satisfied smirk. “Surprised you with my impeccable research, did I? All my rock-solid precedent pointing out the clear error in the original jury instruction?”

Janus’ legs kicked idly in the air. “Your research is always impeccable. Of course you were able to find precedent on-point for the general issue, you’re good at this. But the facts of the case are just so different that how could any of those past rulings be definitive?”

Logan leaned back in his chair, tapping the arm pensively. “Wait, so you really believe that? It wasn’t just a tactic to make Gomex feel like they’re getting their money’s worth for your legal fees?”

Janus finally righted himself, sitting upright with a leg balancing on the coffee table. “Well, yeah , of course I do. I don’t take the time and effort to go to trial for bullshit unless the client can’t be talked down from combat mode. Racking up charges for unnecessary trial prep is only fun when they don’t take my advice.” He looked quizzically at Logan. “So you really didn’t see the difference between Gomex and, what, Sourgoutsis?”

“No material difference, no. It’s in the right circuit, it’s recent and binding, and it established a test that clearly applies here.”

“But the test requires knowledge!”

“Knowing includes reckless disregard for the truth, and Gomex had that.”

“Oh, you can hardly say it’s reckless when all the claims were paid without issue for a decade!”

Logan leaned forward, counting off points on his fingers. “The guidance is updated each year. The commentary points out the changes. Gomex has to certify as a company that they accept all current guidance and direction. If they didn’t actually know they were submitting false claims, they should have known, and had a duty to know.”

Janus’ eyes were flashing, but more with excitement than anger. “But even the commentary didn’t clarify that these specific claims would no longer be accepted in the future. Doesn’t the agency have a duty to be clear about changes in accepted policy when the code is so vast and companies used past claims as standards for future approval?”

“But the companies are the experts in their own industries. They should know that these kind of differences are significant and material.”

Janus sat up fully straight, pointing enthusiastically. “That’s it!”

“What’s it?”

“I figured it out! It is a matter of perspective. But not the perspective of side versus side, like I was thinking. It’s time.”

Logan leaned in, leaning his elbows on his knees. “Expand, please.”

Janus nodded, mirroring Logan’s pose even as his hands remained free to gesture. “So you’re looking at this as: company knows their procedures best, they’re the ones making profit off it, so their duty to know details is higher than the public agency. Right?”

Logan nodded.

“Here’s where I’m coming from - it’s not a question of if this company knew or should have known this distinction, or even if this industry has the expertise that the agency lacks. It’s about what this case would do to the Sourgoutsis test for cases in the future. If the agency doesn’t have to clarify a policy change now, why would it ever? If it’s not enough that companies rely on a long history of approval here, when will it ever be? Do you follow, Logan?”

Logan linked his fingers, tapping the tips of his forefingers gently. “So your concern is about using a history of compliance as evidence of good faith?”

“Exactly, yes.”

“But Gomex knew that the change meant the compliant history was no longer relevant.”

“Only because they had insider knowledge of the change process. Not from the public information.”

“Wait, so you agree that Gomex knew?”

Janus grinned sheepishly, baring all his teeth. “Well, we’re both off the case now, so- yeah. They knew or should have known their claims would get rejected and banked on the agency not noticing for just long enough.”

Logan gasped. “But you still went into court and got the jury to agree with you that they didn’t!?”

Janus shrugged pragmatically. “It’s not about Gomex, it’s about the precedent this will set. I’d rather one bad actor get away with it now than have who-knows-how-many claims get screwed in the future for a good-faith misunderstanding.”

“Especially if that bad actor is paying you millions to help them get away with it?” Logan asked with an eyebrow raised.

Janus raised one of his own. “So you’d rather let a bad test become binding because the agency is paying you millions to get it set in stone?”

Logan, about to respond hotly, paused. “I suppose that’s a fair assessment. I didn’t think it was that bad a test until now - I assumed the insider knowledge would be baked into the standard.”

“You gotta think cynically, Mr. Finch,” Janus said with a chuckle. “Picture the worst-faith application and work backwards from there, cause you know it’ll end up happening.”

“Hmm,” Logan said with a quiet laugh. “When you’re right, you’re right.”

Janus fluttered his lashes. “The great Logan Finch thinks I’m right about something. My life’s goal is achieved.”

“Hey, I think you’re correct quite a lot!” Logan objected. “Infuriatingly precise and pedantic, sure, but ultimately right. There’s a reason my firm sends me against you - no one else wants to fight what’ll be a losing battle half the time.”

“Only half?”

“Even you must admit I’ve been correct on more than one occasion,” Logan said with a smile.

“That is true,” Janus admitted. “Knowing that you’re going to be the opposing counsel always makes me up my game.”

“The feeling’s mutual,” Logan said wryly. “I’d never admit it to the other partners, but you make me a better lawyer, Janus.”

The flattered glow of Janus’ grin was immediately dwarfed by two other, brighter bursts of light. Gold and blue pulsed from their backs in a flash, then settled into steady light. The colors lit the stylish room, blending to emerald as they pulsed in time with each man’s heartbeat. Logan looked at the glow reflected on the white couch cushions with wonder as he realized that Janus’ back was no longer shining blue, but green. He caught his eyes and realized his own glow must have changed colors as well.

The lights pulsed more and more gently until they dimmed and went out, leaving Janus and Logan sitting across from one another just as the last of the sunlight fell below the horizon and the room went dark.

The silence stretched for several moments, until Janus finally broke it with a bemused, “Huh.”

“So that was-”

“I think so.

“So now we’re-”

“Bonded, yeah. I think.”

“That would be a logical assumption.”

The silence returned, each man lost in his own thoughts. When they spoke again, it was at once.

“Maybe we should-”

“Perhaps we could still-”

“-make sure it’s permanent?

“-take a few days more?”

They shared a grin.

“A couple more days couldn’t hurt,” Janus said. “After all, it could be a fluke. We wouldn’t want to set a standard from a mere fluke.”

“Oh, of course not,” Logan responded with the same tone of amusement. “We want to confirm the integrity of the test.”

Janus stood to flick on a light, then turned as a thought occurred.

“Wait, Logan - even once we go back, we won’t be able to be opposing counsel anymore. The soulmate code will still be applied, even though we’re not romantic or QP soulmates.”

Logan’s face fell for a moment, then lit up once more as he stood. “Well, we’ve got a couple days at least. I think the two best lawyers in the state might be able to argue that every precedent has an exception, don’t you, Mr. Alighieri?”

Janus’ smile mirrored Logan’s own as he replied, “Why yes, Mr. Finch, I think we might.”

62 notes · View notes

castleshadows · 4 years ago

Text

Bow Before Your New Queen

The first Chapter of TCOGB from Casteel's POV.

Written January 14, 2021

“Lower your swords.”

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw my mother sink down onto one knee. I couldn’t help but be a little surprised at this. She was so angry about my marriage to Poppy, and now here she was, giving up her crown and bowing to the new Queen. As far as I’d known my mother had never bowed to anything in her life. Of course, there had never been a descendant of Nyktos in Atlantia in her lifetime either. Well, there was a first time for everything wasn’t there.

I looked back to Poppy, who was currently staring at my parents like she wanted nothing more than to run very far away and never look back. I didn’t blame her. Her gaze shifted to me, her expression changing. I gave her just a hint of a grin, fangs showing. She visibly relaxed. Gods, I loved her so much.

My friend.

My love.

My partner.

My wife.

My heartmate.

My Queen.

My everything.

She was the only person in the room. Or at least the only one I cared about.

“My Queen.” I breathed, lip curling up of its own accord. Her eyes snagged on something at the corner of my mouth. Probably my dimples. The funny thing was, I hadn’t really ever noticed them until Poppy had brought them up, and now that she had, I couldn’t stop noticing them. It was really rather obnoxious, though I was glad she liked them.

Poppy gave almost a full body shudder, relaxing.

Something came over her then, and her eyes filled with pain. The adrenaline from whatever had happened here was probably coming down. She swayed, knees getting ready to buckle—

I moved, standing up and taking a step closer to Poppy. Her eyes widened. It was so cute the way she was always surprised by how fast most of us were. I wanted to run to her so badly, to take her into my arms and rip out the throats of anyone who came near. It seemed the wolven had the same idea.

A menacing growl came from behind me. Jasper. His size in his wolven form still surprised me to this day. I wondered if Kieran would ever get that big.

Another growl, familiar to me as my own voice.

Kieran himself was looking at me with a hatred in his eyes that was unusual for him. Emotions weren’t usually something he showed. But now, his ears were pinned back, his eyes blue, but not blue. There was something wrong with his eyes…

“No.”

Poppy’s voice was a quiet rasp, and I know she knew what was about to happen. Kieran sank onto his haunches, getting ready to pounce. I didn’t want to hurt him, but if it meant getting to Poppy I would take him down. I would take them all down one by one.

His eyes were so strange though they… they glowed. My eyes widened. They knew.

“You all knew,” I couldn’t believe it. That’s why all the wolven had been running towards the temple before the rain started.

“You all knew something was happening to her, that’s why…” I trailed off. I was mad. Mad they hadn’t told me anything, mad they were keeping me from helping my wife.

Even without Poppy’s empath gifts, I could feel the confusion radiating off of her.

Me too, Princess. Me too.

Several of my parents' personal guards moved to surround them, and I suddenly remembered I was also surrounded. By a bunch of half feral wolven, waiting to rip me into pieces. Shit.

A howl went up into the air from Delano, and several yips and calls answered him from a distance. They grew louder each second.

“Godsdamn,” Emil was reaching for his swords, “Their summoning the whole damn city.”

Yes, Emil, thank you for that astute observation, I thought. I knew he was only saying what needed to be said, but I still couldn’t help but want to stake him on the wall for looking like that at Poppy. She didn’t believe me, but I knew what I saw.

“It’s her,” Alastir stated, coming forward. I could see the distrust in him clearly. Godsdammit would they hurry up. Not everyone here needed to state the complete obvious. All I saw was Poppy, head bleeding, struggling to stand. I needed to get to her. I needed to take care of her. I needed—

“It’s not her,” I shot back at Alastir. This was taking too long.

“But it is,” My father stared at Poppy. I wanted to gouge his eyes out. “They’re responding to her. That’s why the ones on the road with us shifted without warning. She called them to her.”

“I… I didn’t call anyone.” Poppy’s voice broke, and my heart cracked a little with it.

She didn’t know what was going on. Hell, I barely knew what was going on. I could tell she didn’t mean for any of this to happen. If I could just get to her, wrap her in my arms, and tell her it’s going to be okay, then maybe it wouldn’t be a complete lie.

“I know,” I looked at her, hoping my eyes portrayed what my voice could not at this moment. I hoped she was using her gift, so she’d know that at least I, out of all the people in this room (who weren’t wolven of course) didn’t blame her for any of this mess.

“But she did,” my mother insisted. Okay, now I wanted to gouge out her eyes too. “You might not realize it, but you did summon them.”

Poppy looked at my mother for several heartbeats. I could practically hear the gears of her brain turning. My Poppy, my wonderful, beautiful Queen. Then she flinched. She flinched. I hardened.

“If the idiots behind me actually laid down their swords instead of lifting them against my wife , we wouldn’t have an entire colony of wolven about to descend on us.” Staying pleasant at this point, was just a lost cause, “They are only reacting to the threat.”

“You’re right,” My father helped my mother to her feet. Her gown was soaked with blood. “But ask yourself why your bonded wolven is guarding someone other than you.”

I didn’t give a fuck what Kieran was doing.

“I really couldn’t care less at the moment.” The wolven were getting closer. I could hear their paws pounding the ground.

“You need to care,” My mother replied softly. No I didn’t. What I needed was Poppy. “The bonds have broken.”

“She’s right,” Alastir commented, “I can… I can feel it— the Primal notam. Her mark. Good gods. They’ve all broken.”

I didn’t entirely understand, or care about, what he was saying.

Poppy.

My wife.

Hurt.

She’s hurt.

“Look at their eyes,” my mother ordered softly. “I know you don’t understand. There are things you never needed to learn, Hawke.” Her voice cracked then. “But what you need to know now is that they no longer serve the Elemental bloodline. You are not safe. Please,” she begged. “Please. Listen to me, Hawke.”

No.

My wife, my love.

“How?” she asked, “How could the bond break.”

She always asked questions at the most inconvenient times.

“That doesn’t matter right now,” I practically growled, “You’re bleeding.”

She ignored me.

“How?”

“It’s what you are,” My mother lifted her skirts. They were soaked with blood. “You have the blood of a god in you—"

“I’m mortal,” Poppy insisted. “Yes, you are mortal, but you are descended from a deity—the children of the gods. All it takes is a drop of god’s blood—” Eloana swallowed thickly. “You may have more than just a drop, but what is in your blood, what is in you, supersedes any oath the wolven have taken.”

Poppy looked like she was about to pass out.

“You go near her? Right now?” my mother continued “They will see you as a threat to her. They will rip you apart.”

Let them. They may take me down, but I would take many of them down with me.

“Casteel—”

“It’s okay.” My eyes stayed locked with Poppy’s. “No one is going to harm Poppy. I will not allow that.” I took a deep breath. “And you know that right.”

She nodded, eyes frantic.

“Everything’s alright. They’re just protecting you” I smiled for Poppy then, as much as I could manage. But, even I could tell it wasn’t reassuring whatsoever, tense and tight. All my worries showed right on my face.

“I don’t know everything that is going on right now, but you—all of you—want to keep her safe. And I’m all about that. You know I would never hurt her. I would tear out my own heart before I did that. She’s injured. I need to make sure she’s okay, and nothing is going to stop me from doing that.” I didn’t blink as I held Kieran’s stare. The other wolven had reached the temple steps. I could hear the rolling thunder of their paws. “Not even you. Any of you. I will destroy every single one of you who stands between her and me.”

And I would. I would kill Kieran, my best friend, my brother. I would kill him if that was what it took.

My lips peeled back, showing my fangs, and Kieran’s growl turned deeper, primal. I prepared myself to fight—

“Stop,” Poppy ordered, “Kieran! Stop! You will not hurt Casteel.” Her voice echoed throughout the chamber. “All of you will stop. Now! None of you will attack.”

A switch flipped off. All of the wolves lowered their head, laying down on the temple floor.

“That… that was timely. Thank you for that.” Emil, looked at her in that way of his that made me want to rip his lips from his face.

Yeah he was going to die soon. No question about it.

My eyes were fixed on Poppy. She was glowing silver, bright like moonlight. She’d spoken like a true Queen. It was incredibly arousing. Uncomfortably arousing actually. I shifted on my feet.

“He will not hurt me, you know that.” She directed it towards Kieran and Jasper. “You told me he was the only person in both kingdom’s I was safe with. That hasn’t changed.”

Kieran nudged her with his nose. I could tell what he was trying to say. “You’re safe with me too.”

“Thank you,” she whispered, eyes closing.

“Just so you know,” I murmured, “What you just did? Said? Has me feeling all kinds of wildly inappropriate things at the moment.”

She laughed shakily, “There is something so wrong with you.”

Maybe there was something wrong with me. But, that didn’t change anything.

“I know.” My lips curved upward, “But you love that about me.”

She didn’t confirm it, but I could tell she agreed.

“You were glowing silver again. When you ordered the wolven to stop,” I told her. “Not a lot, not like before, but you looked like spun moonlight.”

She looked down at her hands, and her brow furrowed.

“I didn’t want any of this,” she whispered.

“I know,” I replied voice rough. I placed a palm over her cheek, the one that wasn’t swollen. I needed to take care of her. I needed— "I know Princess."

Her hair was tangled beneath my hand, her face bloody and streaked with dirt. And yet, she was the most beautiful thing I’d ever seen. “It’s okay. It’ll all be okay. I can promise you that.”

I couldn’t promise it to her. But I could sure as hell, protect her in any way I knew how. Any way that was possible.

I kissed her brow and then turned towards Emil. “Emil? Can you retrieve clothing from Delano’s and Kieran’s horses so they can shift and not scar anyone?”

“I’d be more than happy to do that,” he replied, leaving the temple. I watched him go, glad he was leaving. I couldn’t pay attention to Poppy when he was in the room. When he was right there just waiting for me to murder him.

“I think their nakedness will be the least scarring thing to happen today.” Poppy pointed out.

I said nothing, touching her cheek, and taking note of all her injuries. I wanted to kill them. I would’ve ripped them limb by limb had Poppy not already done that for me.

My Poppy, my beautiful Queen.

“They tried to stone you.”

There was a soft gasp from my mother, but I ignored it. I was still pretty mad at her.

“They accused me of working with the Ascended, and they called me a Soul Eater. I told them I wasn’t. I tried to talk to them.” Her hands lifted, presumably to touch me, but stopped midway. I couldn’t help but be disappointed.“I tried to reason with them, but they started throwing stones. I told them to stop. I said it was enough, and…I don’t know what I did—” She started to look over my shoulder, but I stopped her, not wanting her to look at the bodies. I knew from experience it would only make things a hell of a lot worse. “I didn’t mean to kill them.”

“You were defending yourself,” I reminded her. I wanted her to know it wasn’t her fault. It wasn’t her fault at all. “You did what you had to do. You were defending yourself.”

“But I didn’t touch them, Casteel,” Poppy whispered. “It was like in Spessa’s End, during the battle. Remember the soldiers who surrounded us? When they fell, I felt something in me. I felt that again here. It was like something inside me knew what to do. I took their anger and I—I did exactly what a Soul Eater would do. I took it from them and then gave it back.”

From somewhere behind me my mother said, “You are not a soul eater.” I didn’t want to gouge out her eyes as much anymore. “The moment the eather in your blood became visible, those who attacked you should’ve known exactly what you were. What you are.”

“Eather?” Poppy asked, gaze shifting back to me. I couldn’t help but be relieved. If she was asking questions she was okay… right?

“It’s what some would call magic,” I answered, and shifted my stance, so my mother couldn’t see Poppy. She didn’t need to be assaulted with questions by the former Queen. “You’ve seen it.” I reminded her.

“The mist?”

I nodded. “It’s the essence of the gods, what’s in their blood, what gives them their abilities and the power to create all that they have. No one really calls it that anymore, not since the gods went to sleep, and the deities died off.” My eyes searched hers, trying to figure out what she was feeling. It was times like these empath powers would have been useful. “I should have known. Gods, I should’ve seen it…”

“You can say that now,” my mother spoke. “But why would you have even thought that this would be a possibility? No one would’ve expected this.”

No. I hadn’t. But she had.

“Except for you.”

“I can explain,” she protested. She could explain, my ass.

Emil appeared carrying two saddlebags. Thankfully he had enough sense to give us all a wide berth, probably sensing the tension in the room.

“Apparently a lot needs to be explained,” I said, icily. “But it will have to wait.” I looked at Poppy’s left cheek, at her temple, at the blood. I needed her to be okay. “I need to get you somewhere safe where I can… Where I can take care of you.”

“You can take her to your old rooms at my place.” Jasper said, having shifted. Poppy looked over, and then blushed, probably realizing Jasper was naked. I tried not to laugh.

He handed a pair of breeches to me for Kieran. “That will do. Thank you.”

“Will it be safe for you there?”

I grinned. It was adorable how concerned she was for my safety. Though I kind of wished she would pay more attention to herself, seeing as she was bleeding.

“He’ll be safe there,” Kieran answered for me.

Poppy looked at him, and I was surprised to see she didn’t seem at all embarrassed that he was wearing no clothes. It made me kind of jealous. I handed him the pants.

“You were going to attack Casteel,” she accused.

Kieran nodded and took the pants.

“He most definitely was,” I confirmed.

“And you threatened to destroy him.” That one was—rightfully—directed at me.

I smiled just a bit, “I did.”

It was kind of funny in hindsight.

“Why are you smiling? That isn’t something that should make you smile.” She stared at me, and I immediately felt bad for smiling. I could tell she was holding back tears. “That can never happen again. Do you hear me?” She twisted to Kieran, who arched a brow as he pulled on the breeches. “Do you both hear me? I won’t allow it. I won’t—”

“Shh,” I touched her cheek, calming her. I felt awful. “It won’t happen again, Poppy,” I swept my thumb across a tear that had already fallen. We were close enough now that our chests touched. It was very distracting. “Right?” I asked Kieran.

“Right.” He cleared his throat. “I don’t…” He went quiet. I had no idea what he was going to say.

Jasper however, spoke up. “As long as the Prince doesn’t give us any reason to behave differently, we will protect him as fiercely as we will protect you.” I wouldn’t give them any reason to attack me if I had anything to say about it.

I felt something hit my chest and looked down to see Poppy with her face buried into my shirt. She took a long inhale. She did that sometimes when I was near, probably smelling me. I didn’t fault her for it though. The gods know how many times I’d done the exact same thing to reassure myself.

I folded my arm over her back, careful not to hurt her, breathing in the scent of honeydew. I shuddered.

“Wait,” Kieran said. “Where is Beckett? He was with you when you walked off.”

Beckett.

I drew back ever so slightly, “That’s right. He offered to show you the temple.” I narrowed my eyes, everything forgotten except Beckett. Beckett who had just moved to first place on my murder list. Okay maybe Emil was just a little bit ahead of him… but still. “He led you here.”

“He disappeared when the others showed up,” Poppy said reluctantly, “I don’t know where he went."

Yep, that settled it. Beckett was dead.

I turned to Delano, still in his wolven form. “Find Beckett,” I ordered, “Naill? Emil? Go with him. Make sure Beckett is brought to me alive.”

Poppy stiffened. I could tell she didn’t like this.

“He’s just a kid,” she said, “He was scared. And now that I think about it—”

“Poppy,” I interrupted, placing my hand just below the cut on her temple. I kissed it. “I have two things to say. If Beckett had anything to do with this, I don’t care what or who he is, and I sure as fuck don’t care about what he was feeling.” My voice rose, until everyone in the temple could hear me. This needed to be heard.

“A move against my wife is a proclamation of war against me . Their fate is already sealed. And, secondly?” I leaned down further towards her, brushing my lips against hers. Her scent heightened almost imperceptibly. I knew exactly what we were doing tonight.

I turned my head to the side and pointed to the only wolven who remained, now standing on two legs, “ You .”

#the crown of gilded bones #tcogb #tcogb spoilers #from blood and ash #a kingdom of flesh and fire #jennifer l armentrout #jla #fantasy #fandom #fanfic #poppy balfour #casteel da'neer #king of blood and ash #queen of flesh and fire #kieran contou #jasper contou #poppy x casteel

23 notes · View notes

nazyalenskyism · 3 years ago

Text

This Love (Part 1)

This Love (This Love I Have For You) [Part 1]

Summary: A Zoyalai One For My Enemy AU. Two heirs from enemy empires find themselves in the same room for the first time in years. Is their future elastic, letting them fall back into one another or has too much happened since then, causing them to break apart forever?

Ao3: This Love

A/N: While the first chapter of this fic is a scene from one of the early chapters of the book, One For My Enemy, the second chapter will contain major spoilers for the book so please beware if you plan on reading this! cw: blood mentions (nothing more descriptive than the books though)

“Nikolai Lantsov,” her voice was still smooth, the lilt of his name off her lips used to send a shudder down his spine, maybe it still had that effect but nobody would know, not with the way he maintained his languid posture. He was born to be the second son but had quickly made it apparent to the family that he was nothing if not the one who would turn the heir apparent into the heir presumptive. Nikolai was not born to be a leader, though every moment of his life was spent proving otherwise. His curious mind wanted answers to everything, he spent hours deconstructing people’s movements to figure out how he could act to cause another to react in the way he wanted. As a consequence he learned how and when to react himself, a skill he had never been more grateful for than at this moment.

“You haven’t forgotten me, have you?” Zoya slowly slipped her coat off, taking note of how Nikolai’s gaze never wavered from her but his eyes betrayed nothing. He was every inch the stoic prince, every bit the cunning king. Vasily’s eyes slid over her in the way they always did, disdainfully, as if she was there to take what was his. He’d always been a little bit more observant than she’d ever given him credit for, but she supposed that even a broken clock was right twice a day.

“Of course I remember you, Nazyalensky. Do you still know me?”

“I thought I did.”

***

In the past ‘Lantsov’ had been for daily use; it was a name that belonged to most of the people he knew, but when she said it, it was only ever for him.

‘Nikolai’ was for when the world shrunk down to just them, the way her red lips pulled up when she whispered his name, her thumb brushing his cheek bone, a hushed reply to his calling of her name between reverent praises in the dark of the night.

‘Kolya’ was teasing, she knew he hated it so it was always uttered to seek out a reaction. “ Kolya, guess who asked for my hand in marriage? Kolya, Kirigin asked me to accompany him to the theatre again today. I think he likes me, or it seemed like it when he put his hands on my waist.” Kolya always led to consequences but it was like she always purred afterwards, ‘ you’re too predictable Lantsov.’ He knew he was, but that never stopped him, the taste of her was too sweet to turn away from.

In the past ‘ Nazyalensky’ had been for daily use; he'd called her that since they were children. One night, years later he would whisper into her hair that he had always liked the way it sounded, the gentle rise and fall of the syllables, how it demanded to be said slowly, demanded your time and respect for it could never be spoken with malice. She would smile, tracing the letters onto his chest, that’s exactly why she’d chosen it for herself.

'Zoya' was rare; she liked to think she could recount every time it had ever been uttered, though he had said it far too many times for that to be true. Her family called her Zoya, it was always said with unspoken love but she’d never know that someone could say it with the same connotations without being one of her people. In truth, Zoya was only rare when it came from his lips, he was the only one who said it like that. Zoya was used when he needed her, when he couldn’t do without her. Zoya was his, as much as Nikolai was hers… at least that’s how it’d been before.

***

In the after, Zoya lived forever in his mind, a searing image in the dawn light, the brush of icy wind against his face.

In the after, she forbade herself from thinking of Nikolai. She knew that what she’d given to him all those years ago would betray her if she did.

The after was where they existed now, a queen posed across from a king on a chessboard. She had any and every move at her disposal and all he could do was react with the smallest steps. The power was in her hands, though they were in his home, he’d never felt more like an exposed nerve before her than he did now. It didn’t help that she was wearing her signature armor tonight. After years without seeing her, the perfectly cut lines of her dress, the red curve of her lips that he knew she’d reapplied in the car, pressing them together three times to get them just right, the little details threatened to torch him, he was always too flammable when it came to her.

“Oh, Kolya ,” she sighed, crossing one leg over the other, her use of the diminutive threatened to undo him.

“Lantsov,” he corrected. “Why are you here, Nazyalensky?”

“Can’t I pop in for a visit?”

“Is it a friendly visit?” Even when they had been friends, nothing with her had ever been friendly.

“Now, that’s entirely up to you,” she cooed.

“It’s been a while, hasn’t it?” Nikolai mused, learning back in his seat. If she was going to toy with him, he may as well return the favour. She was quiet and so he continued, “how’s Kirigin?”

“Emil is as handsome, rich and satisfying as ever.” Her grin was sharp, he could almost see the challenge but he was not the boy she once knew, he would not rise to take the bait.

He pushed past the dig at him wrapped in a compliment to her husband. “Come now, Zoya. Your first visit after all these years can’t just be business related.”

She sighed, those damned red lips pulling into a slight pout. If the sound of her name coming from his mouth phased her, she would never let it show. “You’re right. Genya,” she summoned and her sister who had been standing quietly at her side handed her a small, perfectly wrapped package complete with a bow on top. Zoya’s fingers trailed the length of the package, as if she were weighing her options, deciding where the queen would land. After a brief second, she held it out to Nikolai, seemingly having made up her mind.

He heard Vasily start forward, but he held up his hand and his eyes fixed on her. Tonight was not the night to let his brother loose, everything regarding the Grisha, regarding Zoya required a knowledge of the past, which his brother did not have. Nikolai reached out, his fingers brushing over hers as he took the box from her. The Grisha were clever and Zoya had the lethal combination of being the most clever and most ruthless of her sisters. Whatever was in this box was not good news. “Why,” he murmured, “did you bring me a box of sweets, Nazyalensky?” “You know better than anyone that just because something looks sweet doesn’t mean that it is.” “Are we trading lessons now? I’m afraid I have none to share. What is this?” “It’s something we’ve been working on, a little pick me up, if you will. I won’t bore you with the intricacies, though I imagine you know the rest.” “I don’t,” Nikolai ground out, carefully unwrapping the box. Inside was a set of brightly coloured strips, they looked like pieces of translucent paper. “You know we don’t like to get involved in concoctions like the Grisha.” “That’s interesting,” Zoya hummed, tapping a perfectly manicured nail to her chin. “I’ve been hearing some disconcerting whispers about how your family is planning on changing directions, though thanks to your assurances, I now know that can’t possibly be true.” Nikolai was concerned at how much she’d improved as an actress in their time apart, though this was pure mockery. There had been a time where they had taught each other everything they learned, but she had always loathed acting. She’d considered it a waste of time, why lie when you could cut harder with the truth? They’d been opposites in that way, though that no longer seemed to be the case now. How else had she changed since then? Would she still sigh if he whispered against her neck, would she pull at his hair if he refused to move his lips further than the corner of her mouth? He’d once seen an infinite number of futures for them and this reality had never been one. Nikolai wished he had seen it, maybe it would’ve made the end easier. “Is that all then?” “Nikolai,” she chided, shaking her head. “I wanted you to be the first to try it. Are we not trusting each other with the truth today? I’m trusting that you are telling me the truth and now it’s your turn to trust me. What’s a little trust exercise between friends, we are friends, aren’t we Kolya?” “Zoya--” Her blue eyes flashed, her tone lashed at him like a whip. “Aren’t we?” She let her eyes drift lazily over his form, but he knew she was calculating again, not actually looking. “Try it, Nikolai.” Zoya’s tone was honey sweet now, it was the voice she used to use to turn nos into yeses, it allowed no room for dissent. He was a fox backed into a corner and he had no way out of this trap.

“Zoya,” Nikolai repeated, “Zoya, come on now, let’s talk about this.” He felt a prickle of fear down his spine. He did not fear her as everyone else did, he feared what she might do. The negotiator’s mein he donned did nothing, however. Her gaze was pure steel, and he felt the looks Genya and Vasily shot at him, he’ll say no. But no wasn’t an option. It never was. His hand floated over the box and he wished now more than ever that he could sense the magic that made them what they were. Would choosing one lead to a worse fate than if he’d chosen the next? Nikolai picked the indigo strip, his hand steady as he tried one last time to find a way to stop the madness. “Do it,” Zoya snapped, she’d never been the patient one. “Zoya, let me explain. After everything, at least give me the chance to explain.” “Nikolai,” it was Tolya, his voice low, urging him to reconsider. “What,” Zoya sniffed, “you’d like to get in on the fun too? There’s more than enough for all four of you to share.”

“Tamar,” he called, his eyes still trained on the woman across from him, “keep our brothers in place. None of you are to move.” “Nikolai,” Tolya tried again, “you don’t have to do this.” “Quiet,” Zoya snapped, pushing up from her chair. “Do it, Nikolai.” She perched herself on the arm of his chair, she was close enough to touch. The Saints were cruel enough to deprive him the chance to determine if this was a cunning illusion or the inarguable end to their story, if he could touch her maybe he’d glean the truth. Zoya leaned over him, picking the strip from his hands, the ends of her hair brushing his collarbone as she did. His breath had left him, he didn’t need it anymore, not when he was sure of his fate. She drew herself back up, her face mere inches away from his. “Open up,” she whispered, and Nikolai had one last second to hope that against all odds, perhaps she had not written for him to die today. If this was one of his last moments, as pathetic as he knew it was, at least he had looked into her eyes one last time. He parted his mouth slowly and she placed her index finger under his chin, her thumb running against his lower lip as she tilted his head back, coaxing him to open up wider. “Good boy,” she murmured, placing the strip on his tongue before getting up rather abruptly. Nikolai wondered why the Saints decided to take what was once the beautiful vessel for life and twist it into the beautiful vessel for death. Was everyone killed by what they loved most, or was he an exception? “The thing that makes these unique,” Zoya turned to the room at large, “is that they don’t sit peacefully on the tongues of liars and cheats. Unless one is virtuous, they’ll find themselves experiencing a different type of reaction, more like pain is being inflicted upon them rather than it being taken away.”

Nikolai blinked once, then twice, her words were muffled, the sight of her was growing fuzzy. This was it then? He felt bile rise in his chest but when he swiped his hand across his mouth, all he saw was scarlet blood smeared across his skin. “Those who deal with us in good faith,” she continued as Nikolai struggled to maintain whatever composure he could. “Know the particular spell that will protect them from the less than savoury side effects. But of course you wouldn’t know, how could you, given that you don’t deal in the business of creation like we do.” He felt a cough rise in his chest, propelling him backwards as blood began seeping from between the fingers he’d clapped over his mouth. He wanted to scream, he couldn’t breathe, but no words could be heard, only the gurgling of blood in his chest as he tried to push air in and out of his lungs. “I wonder who it was then,” Zoya said, “who has been leaking our top secret project and selling it for profit under our noses for far more than we ever planned on selling them for. I wonder who, Kolya.” Nikolai tried to speak again, tried to call her name, he needed her, he needed Zoya, not whoever was standing in front of him now though he knew they were the same woman, he just wished they weren’t, not now at least. He lurched forward in his chair as another round of coughs racked his body, collapsing to the floor, unable to cushion his fall. He felt his body shake but he was already starting to feel a sense of detachment from his body, he barely registered his head hitting the leg of his chair as he convulsed. Was this what a lack of oxygen did to the brain? Or was Zoya’s magic just toying with him, giving him a brief sort of respite before it truly killed him? He was lying in a pool of his own blood, even in his haze he knew to roll to his side so he wouldn’t choke on it as it poured from his mouth. He tried to push himself off the ground but his arms and legs felt locked in place. “This hurts me, Kolya. It truly does,” her lips pulled down at the corners. “I thought we were friends and that friends could be trusted. Unfortunately I see that much has changed over the years, you are not who you once were.” Neither are you. Nikolai wanted to shout, but he felt whatever fight was left in him pull away from the words. Instead he felt his body continue to shake, teeth piercing the flesh of his cheeks. She crouched down to his level, pushing a loose strand of hair back from his forehead. “Nikolai, I trusted you.” He hated how he wanted to lean into the action, how the touch felt familiar, how he wondered for a second if there was an ounce of affection left in those eyes.

I didn’t betray you. Why didn’t you let me explain? There were too many words he wanted to say, they were all queued up in his mouth but when her fingers continued stroking his hair back he felt her lift her magic for a second and only one word came out. “Zoya. Zoya. Zoya,” he cried out, his hand reaching out for her as she drew hers away, causing his insides to continue to crumple. He wished he could see her face one last time, wished he hadn’t listened to her all those years ago when she’d withdrawn. He wished he could call for her one last time as he felt a blinding wave of pain wash over him. Nikolai fell still on the floor, collapsing in a pool of his own blood, his arm outstretched towards Zoya Nazyalensky. “Well,” Zoya said, rubbing her palms together as if she were dusting them off, “that’s finished then.” She picked her coat up from her chair making her way towards the door with Genya at her side. Tolya dropped to the ground, seeking out Nikolai’s pulse as Tamar turned to the woman who’d rendered their golden prince powerless. “Why?” “The Grisha send their love. It’s the Lantsovs’ turn now.”

#zoyalai fic #zoyalai #nikolai lantsov #zoya nazyalensky #nikolai x zoya #kos #kos fic #zoyalai au #my writings #grishaverse asks #tgt #s&b

19 notes · View notes

spine-buster · 5 years ago

Text

l i p s l i k e t h e g a l a x y ’ s e d g e | elias pettersson

Summary: Every new relationship has its growing pains, its ups and downs. But Svea and Elias are back in Sweden, where everything is perfect. And besides, they were best friends before they started their relationship. So are the growing pains the same?

Word Count: ~14.3k

A/N: Have I become obsessed with Elias Pettersson? Mayhaps. Am I gonna do anything about it????? NO!!!!!!!!!! Some more Incredibly Soft Bitch™ hours here, along with some light smut which hopefully makes for a good time. I’d love to hear your thoughts on part two!

PART ONE - MADE OF OUTER SPACE //

Svea promised Elias she was going to make waffles.

She stood in his kitchen in his apartment in Sundsvall, the morning sun illuminating the apartment as she opened all the windows to let the light in. Before she did anything for the waffles, she made coffee. After – and only after – she had her first sip did she take out all the ingredients they had bought yesterday: fresh strawberries and blueberries, the pure maple syrup they’d smuggled back from Vancouver; and, of course, all the necessities for the waffles. After washing the fruit and slicing the strawberries, she plugged in the waffle iron to heat it up and began measuring everything into a bowl and whisking it all together.

It was only then that she felt a pair of arms snake around her midsection, making her jump at the unexpected touch. When she got over her initial shock, she placed her hands over his arms. She could feel his lips kiss her neck and drag their way up to her ear. She closed her eyes and had to keep herself from sighing. “Good morning, Elias.”

He hummed into her skin to acknowledge what she said, but continued to kiss along her neck and jawline. His hands slipped underneath her shirt – his shirt, technically – and onto the exposed skin of her stomach. Except he didn’t just stop there; he kept moving higher and higher, cupping her breasts in his hands. She couldn’t hold in her sigh anymore, letting out a breathy sigh as she gripped onto the edge of the countertop. She could feel him press up against her back. “Elias…”

“That’s my shirt, pretty girl,” he mumbled against her skin.

“Yeah…” she tried to collect herself. “So what? I’ve been wearing your shirts for days now,” she said, because it was the truth. They’d gotten back to Sweden almost two weeks ago, and after visiting and catching up with family the first week, they’d retreated back to his apartment in Sundsvall. In that time, they’d been…busy. Elias had apparently wanted to keep his promise about making up for lost time and making love on every room and surface of his apartment. They’d been exploring, so to speak: what they liked and didn’t like; what set them off and what didn’t; what drove them crazy and what they could do without. It was a definite learning curve for two shy people who didn’t have any experience with anyone but each other, but that was the exact thing that kept them both sane – that they were learning together. As corny as it sounded, it was their saving grace. They were shy, but they didn’t have to be shy with each other. They were quiet, but they didn’t have to be quiet with each other.

When he began to nip at the skin of her neck, Svea bit her lip. She couldn’t believe he still wanted it, barely awake and his voice still sleepy, after all the sex they’d been having. He even had the audacity to pinch her nipples quickly, causing her to squirm. “Elias…”

“Come back to bed,” he whispered in her ear.

It took everything in her to shake her head and deny him. If only because she was actually looking forward to the waffles. “But what about your waffles? These ingredients will be wasted.”

Elias stopped his movements. He looked at everything on the counter and the waffle iron heating up, and he came to his senses. “You’re making me choose between waffles and sex?”

Svea snorted. “I think I am.”

“How dare you.”

They both broke out into a fit of giggles. His arms around her waist loosened, but he put his hands on her hips to spin her around. “Give me one kiss and I’ll leave you alone.”

“I doubt that.”

“I promise,” his tone was begging. “One kiss.”

Svea digressed. She stood on her tip-toes (the problem of someone who was only five-foot-two) and wrapped her arms around his shoulders as he craned his neck down (the problem of someone who was six-foot-two) to kiss her. When their lips met, there was a fire ignited inside Svea and Elias that they’d gotten used to over the last few days. Elias put so much passion into the kiss – as he did with every kiss – but she knew there was more to this one because he wanted to leave her completely dazed. His lips practically engulfed hers and his tongue filled her mouth. She couldn’t help but moan into the kiss, especially as he finished it off, biting down on her bottom lip and dragging it away with him, leaving her wanting so much more.

“Fuck you, Elias,” she barely got out, keeping her eyes closed to savour the moment.

“I’ve been trying to convince you to but you want to make waffles instead.”

Okay, that brought her back to the present. She glared at him before pinching his arm and shoving him away playfully so she could get back to the bowl of waffle mix. “Get out of the kitchen.”

When the waffles were finished and plated as fashionably as Svea could present them, she brought them outside to the balcony where Elias was waiting patiently. He smiled as it was placed in front of him, taking his phone out and snapping a picture of it. “It looks better than the Vancouver ones we get,” he said.

“No they don’t,” Svea laughed. “Stop trying to butter me up so you can have sex with me after.” She paused for dramatic effect. “I’ll do it anyway.”

They ate in relative silence, admiring the stillness of the morning and the sound of the water splashing up against the bottom of the building. The city was just waking up, and from across the harbour Svea could see a few cars on the road. The tranquility of Sundsvall was what she loved: it was a city (at least compared to Ånge), but not too big, the people were nice and unobtrusive, and, of course, being on the water was beautiful. The Bottenhavet was practically always freezing but it was still her favourite, and she loved to jog along the paths in the city that were carved near the water. She’d take similar jogs around the water in Vancouver, mainly in David Lam Park since it was so close to the apartment, but it wasn’t the same. She absolutely loved Vancouver, and could see herself living there for a very long time, perhaps always, but it wasn’t home. Home was Sweden. Home is Sweden. Home was the streets of Ågne and Sundsvall and Timrå and Stockholm and everything in between; home was the drives she and her family would take all around Sweden to see the country; home was dad’s homemade Swedish meatballs and mom’s pickled herring and Sigrid’s egg coffee recipe that was to die for; home was Irene’s warm hugs and Torbjörn’s infections smile and Emil’s dumb jokes.

Home was sitting on a balcony with Elias eating homemade waffles and having him look into her blue eyes like they held the water of the seven seas.

When they were finished, Svea moved to lie down on the couch as Elias brought the plates to the kitchen. When he came back outside, he practically collapsed on top of her. He lay his head on her chest, wrapping one arm around her while the other snuck underneath his shirt she was wearing, feeling her skin, not caring how much he was pushing it up. Svea began running her fingers through his hair and he practically purred at the action.

Svea could feel his breathing steady, and she wondered if he really did fall asleep again as he lay on top of her. When she felt his thumb draw circles along the skin of her ribcage, she got her answer. That was nice, because she had some things on her mind.

“Elias?” she asked finally in her trademark sweet voice.

“Svea?” he asked back, mimicking the sweetness.

She made sure to keep running her fingers through his hair. “Were you lying to me when you told me you bought this place because you know how much I like the water?”

“Of course not,” he said. He remembered telling her at Brock’s house in Minnesota when they were in a situation similar to this one, and he didn’t regret it. It wasn’t something he would be able to keep a secret forever. “Why would you think I was lying?”

“I don’t know…” she said uneasily. She sighed slightly. “I just…I just didn’t really think you made big decisions like that with me in mind.”

Elias looked up at her. “Svea, I only make big decisions like that with you in mind.”

“Really?”

He nuzzled his head back against her chest. “I wanted to put your name on the deed with mine but my lawyer and my mom said I should talk to you about it first so I didn’t scare you,” he mumbled.

Svea’s body stiffened. Elias felt it, and looked up at her again. “Elias, you can’t be serious.”

“Why wouldn’t I be serious?”

“This is a whole apartment.”

“So?”

“Elias.”

He made a face, pushing himself further up her body so he could kiss her. His lips were so soft and for a moment, Svea forgot about everything. He had that effect on her. “It was always going to be this way. Don’t you think? You were always going to be in my life. I was always going to be in yours. There was never anything that was going to separate us.”

“I know,” she nodded her head confidently. “I just…I don’t know. But we were just best friends, Elias. It’s not like we were together like we are now.”

Elias shrugged his shoulders. “That didn’t matter to me,” he said. “I would have given you everything, even if you didn’t ask. I still would.” He paused for a moment. “You know that, right Svea? You have to know that. I’d give you anything.”

Svea nodded her head silently. She did know. She always knew. It was just different hearing it said out loud, confirmed by Elias now that they were actually together and in a relationship, rather than just best friends. It was a dichotomy of everything feeling new, yet already knowing every sentiment – that he loved her, that he’d give her the world if he could. So instead of thinking about it anymore, she acted. She kissed him again, and as they kept kissing, he moaned, and as he moaned, Svea felt him getting hard against her thigh, and as she felt him get harder, she grinded her hips into his desperately, and as she grinded her hips, he took off her bottoms, and she took off his, and suddenly, there were pantsless on his balcony.

“I want to be on top this time,” she mumbled as Elias kissed down her neck.

He audibly groaned at her request. “Get on top, then,” he said quickly, wrapping his arms around her and leaning back, bringing her body with him.

Svea lowered herself on top of him slowly, but once he bottomed out, they both moaned out in pleasure. She kept her top on, because it was one of Elias’s Tre Kronor shirts, and she knew he found it hot. His hands squeezed her thighs as he looked up at her through hooded eyes. “You were always meant to be here,” he mumbled out. “On top of me. Under me. Beside me. Wherever. But with me.”

Svea nodded her head as she began to rock back and forth. “I know.”

“And if I have anything to do with it, you’ll always be on top of me,” he made a quick joke.

Svea smiled as she slapped his chest. He leaned forward to give her a cheeky kiss. “I love you, Elias,” she said.

“I love you too, Svea.”

>< >< >< >< ><

“Tequiiiiiiilllllllllaaaaaaaaaa!!!!!”

Elias let Tequila lick his face as she wagged her tail and barked excitedly. Emil and Fanny laughed as Elias got on his knees and Tequila practically climbed on top of him, way too excited to see him. He lay down with her on top of him. “Oh, God,” Emil chuckled, shaking his head. “This is never gonna end now. We may as well all just leave them together.”

“I haven’t seen her in months,” Elias mumbled in between him giving Tequila kisses and Tequila slobbering kisses all over him. “Let me be.”

“Is that what it’s like in bed with him, Svea?”

Elias kicked his brother’s shin, causing Emil to yelp out in pain. Fanny followed up with a slap to the arm. Comments like this were to be expected from Emil after they told their families. Everybody was so nonchalant about it that Elias and Svea were almost offended. “Oh, finally?” was her mother’s and Sigrid’s reaction. Her father had the gall to joke, “Weren’t you two always together?”. Torbjörn asked, “Okay…and?” and Irene actually said, “Are we supposed to be surprised?”. Suffice to say, Elias and Svea did not get the reaction they thought they would. It was part hilarious, part annoying.

“She’s good with two longer walks or three short walks a day,” Fanny explained. “Always with the harness. And she eats when we eat – well, right after we eat. The cup to measure is in the kibble bag. And the cats – we try to brush them twice a week. They eat at the same time as Tequila—”

“You told us! We know how to take care of animals, Fanny,” Elias said as he rubbed Tequila’s belly.

“Quiet!” Svea shushed him. “They’re her babies, Elias.” She turned back to Fanny. “Go on.”

“She’s good with the crate at night, but if she gets fussy just put a treat in there. It works every time,” Fanny continued. “And…I think that’s it? I’ll still be available by text if anything happens.”

“I’ll make sure to send you daily pupdates,” Svea smiled. “Have fun with your family.”

“Are you kids going to be okay in the big bad city all alone?” Emil joked again.

They were back in Ånge, which made his joke all the more nuanced. “We can call the neighbours if we feel scared at night,” Svea said. “Hopefully they have an extra bed.”

“Extra two beds. I don’t want any funny business while we’re away that leads to a niece or nephew in nine months.”

Elias kicked him in the shin again. “Fanny, you guys gotta go now before I beat him up.”

The girls hugged as Emil got into the driver’s seat of the car. Elias finally stood up and made Tequila sit as they waved at Emil and Fanny. They drove away slowly, and once they were out of sight, Elias turned to Svea. “Alone in Ånge,” he smiled.

“It sounds like the title of a horror movie.”

Elias snorted, shaking his head. “I’m serious. I don’t think I’ve ever been alone in Ånge for years.”

He made a point. Svea’s parents were already in Torremolinos, Spain, for an extended vacation. Elias had made sure to buy his parents a trip to the Algarve in Portugal so they could spend some time in the southern European sun, too. Sigrid was in Stockholm, as she usually was, and now, Emil and Fanny were going on a quick camping vacation with her family. Elias and Svea were tasked to take care of all the animals while Emil and Fanny were gone for the week. As if they needed to be asked. “You’re actually right,” Svea commented. “No family to visit or spend time with. What are we going to do with ourselves now that no-one is here?”

“We could rent all the Austin Powers movies again and eat every chip bag in the city,” Elias smiled.

“Or we could rent The Prince and Me and I can fantasize about falling in love with a Danish prince and making out with him in the stacks of the library,” Svea wiggled her eyebrows.

Elias feigned hurt in his face. “You fantasize about that when you have a Swedish boyfriend right here?”

She shrugged innocently. “Maybe.”

“How about we watch Brooklyn 9-9 instead,” Elias offered.

“So I can fantasize about Jake Peralta?”

Elias grabbed her hand and pulled her towards him playfully, leaning down to kiss her so she’d shut up. “You’re killing me here,” he mumbled against her lips. “Should I put on a detective outfit?”

Svea giggled uncontrollably as she threw her arms around his neck and kissed him again. “How about I go to the supermarket to load up on snacks, and you get Tequila settled in and pick something for us to watch?”

Elias smiled. “You trust me to pick something?”

“We’ll probably end up making out halfway through anyway.”

He kissed her again. “I made the smartest decision of my fucking life.”

Svea went inside Elias’s parents’ house briefly to get the keys to the car, driving quickly to the supermarket to pick up a couple of bags of chips, but also some crackers and different cheeses so they could class it up a little bit. Knowing Elias, he would appreciate the “healthier” option. She quickly grabbed a basket and began roaming through the store, picking up the crackers and a slice of brie, her favourite.

“Svea? Is that you?” she heard a voice behind her. She whipped around to see a familiar face – Emma Gardner, an old classmate that she had a few classes with in high school. They’d kept in touch on and off, but there was no bad blood between them when they didn’t talk, and Svea knew there wasn’t a bad bone in Emma’s body. “Oh my God, I thought I heard that you’d be back in town for the summer!”

The two girls hugged, warm and friendly and with an easiness that two friends who hadn’t seen each other in a while always had. “Yeah, I’ve been back in Sundsvall for a while now, but back in Ånge for at least a week with Elias watching Emil and Fanny’s dog,” Svea explained.

“Of course,” Emma smiled. “Where you are, Elias isn’t far behind. Look at Vancouver.”

“Exactly,” Svea giggled, loving how Emma framed it. Svea always made a point about Elias following her to Vancouver and not the other way around, and although she usually said it in a joking manner, she was glad the sentiment was catching on with others. Elias would even say the same thing, so it wasn’t like he cared how he looked like in the situation.

“Listen, if you’re in town for the week, Jonas and I are having a dinner party on Friday,” Emma said. “Just something small, you know how it is. It would be lovely if you and Elias came. I know Jonas would love seeing him again.”

Svea smiled. “I’m sure he’d love to see Jonas again too. I’ll mention it to him,” she said. “Do you want me to make anything?”

“Everybody is preparing a main dish,” Emma said. “Make whatever you want and then bring it over my parents’ place at seven. They’re in Gothenburg visiting Sara.”

“Will do.”

Emma gave her one last, big, genuine smile. “It’s so nice to see old friends again,” she mused. “We all change so much but when we get together, it’s like everything is still the same.”

>< >< >< >< ><

Elias made sure to get all his kisses in before he and Svea walked over to Emma Gardner’s house, Svea holding a tray of homemade sesame chicken while he carried a bottle of wine. They didn’t hold hands, because Elias didn’t want people to know. And they weren’t going to tell anybody tonight; as far as everyone else was concerned, they were still just best friends. It was a mutual decision, but one provoked by Elias. It wasn’t that he was ashamed; it was just that he was already the subject of a lot of gossip in Ånge, and he didn’t want to be the subject of more. Not only that – and more importantly – he didn’t want Svea to be the subject of gossip at all. People their age knowing they finally got together wouldn’t shut up about it. He wanted everything and everyone to be quiet. If he had it his way, everyone would find out when they were out of Ånge and back in Vancouver. That way he didn’t have to talk about it. That way he didn’t have to field questions from old classmates about how they got together.

They arrived at the house, Elias handing Jonas the bottle of wine and Svea handing the dish of sesame chicken to Emma, who took it happily and immediately placed it on the dining table as Elias and Svea took off their shoes. They saw three familiar faces in the apartment – old schoolmates Erik, Kristina, and Oliver – and met three new faces: Magnus, Kristina’s boyfriend; Axel, Oliver’s boyfriend, and Oscar, a university friend of Jonas’s who was visiting from Karlstad.

The wine was already poured. Everyone was standing in around in the living room chatting when Elias and Svea arrived, and they were just waiting for one more couple – Brigitte, another former classmate, and her boyfriend Soren. The boys in attendance were pretty thrilled to see Elias, and they immediately stole him away from Svea, asking about hockey – the NHL, Vancouver, and the girls. Svea settled into conversation with the ladies, telling them about school and Vancouver – the restaurants, the nightlife, the boys.

When the doorbell rang and old classmate Brigitte Danielsson walked through the door, an older boyfriend in tow who introduced himself as Soren Hölmberg, Svea tried not to let her disdain show. She never liked Brigitte. Pretentious in high school despite having no reason to be, Brigitte would use her good looks and conniving charm to make friends, get ahead, and ultimately get what she wanted. Svea couldn’t ever imagine thinking she was better than someone else, so Brigitte’s general attitude always baffled her.

Emma asked Svea to run to the fridge to get the white wine out of the freezer. Brigitte followed behind her to uncork her bottle of red. “Why am I not surprised to see you and Elias coming together?” Brigitte smiled like the Cheshire cat as she stuck the corkscrew into the top of the bottle.

“There’s no reason you should be. You know what Elias and I are like,” Svea brushed off the comment, waiting to use the same corkscrew.

“So nothing has changed since high school?”

“We’re still best friends, if that’s what you’re asking.”

“So neither of you have moved on,” Brigitte commented.

Svea bit her tongue. She wanted to say so much to Brigitte but knew she couldn’t. At least, not here. If Svea saw her at the supermarket at any point during her remaining time in Ånge she’d give her a piece of her mind. Beyond that, the last thing Brigitte said to her before they went into the kitchen together was “hi”. It was a bit forward talking about something so personal with a person you haven’t seen in almost three years, Svea thought. “There was no reason to move on. What would we have moved on to?”

“I don’t know,” Brigitte shrugged her shoulders, but she knew exactly what she was doing and exactly what she was implying. Svea knew Brigitte and, suffice to say, she hadn’t changed since high school. “People who are more like you. It’s hard to believe the quiet alien boy who was a prodigy in hockey and had girls flinging themselves on him left, right, and centre stuck around with the quiet girl whose head was always in a book instead of in his lap, that’s all,” she said, sliding the corkscrew across the counter before walking away and back into the dining area.

Brigitte knew nothing. Move on to people ‘more like you’? There was nobody in the world more like her than Elias. Svea rolled her eyes before uncorking the bottle and walking back to the dining table. Almost everyone had already taken their seats, and Svea found her spot beside Elias. Jonas began passing around the food. Soon, everybody’s plates were filled with food and glasses were filled with wine.

The discussion around the dinner table was mostly to do with university – once the hockey talk was over. Everyone was in varying programs, so it was mostly just a discussion of what new things everybody was learning – the things they’d read, the classes they’d taken, things that opened their eyes and things that made them think. It was a lot of shared experiences, a lot of expanded horizons for a bunch of kids from a tiny town in Sweden who went to high school in a small city in Sweden. Talks about literature they’d read – Absalom, Absalom! by William Faulkner in American Literature, The Grapes of Wrath by John Steinbeck in Voices from the Great Depression, essays from Nick Bostrom and Per Bauhn and novellas by Ingmar Bergman. Social contracts written by Thomas Hobbes and John Locke and Jean-Jacques Rousseau. Politics in Sweden and the European Union.

That’s when things got interesting.

“You can’t honestly believe that,” Svea deadpanned to Soren as she let her ice cream liquify in her small bowl. People at the other end of the table were discussing something else, but Svea had the absolute delight of sitting across from this 26-year-old bozo who did things like say ‘To be devil’s advocate’ just so he could say something provocative or against the norm. He was that type of asshole and, in a mean-spirited fashion, Svea thought him to be a perfect match for Brigitte. “Trickle-down economics doesn’t work. I don’t know how you can think that it does. The capitalist system does not work in favour of society’s poorest citizens. It just doesn’t. Trickle-down economics was just invented by fat rich guys to give themselves tax breaks so they can hoard all their money and not pay their workers liveable wages.”

“Are you saying they don’t create jobs?” Soren smiled at her patronizingly.

“Maybe you don’t understand the words that are coming out of my mouth. I never said a thing about job creation,” Svea retorted. “I’m saying that it’s inevitable that a capitalist system exploits its most vulnerable workers. And for you to sit there and say that it works when it so obviously doesn’t is just ignorant.”

“But the most vulnerable needs jobs, don’t they?” he pressed.

“The most vulnerable in society require justice, equality, dignity – so many other things before they need a job. And unless society’s systems are created and executed to help create that justice, equality, and dignity, they’ll never get it. But they should fight to get it. They have a right to.”

“So you adhere to Hobbes’s view on the social contract then? That people should depose of governments and systems that they don’t like because they don’t get what they want from it?”

Svea furrowed her brows. She wanted to wipe that smug, pretentious, pompous, dastardly smile off his face. “You have your social contracts mixed up, sweetheart. It was Locke, not Hobbes, who believed that when the king or the ruler becomes a tyrant and acts against the interests of the people, the people have a right and an obligation to resist his authority so the social contract can be dissolved and the process of creating a new political society can happen. It’s not about getting what they want, it’s about upholding the contract. That’s what it’s called a social contract. Anybody who’s taken an introduction to philosophy class knows that’s Locke because it inspired Thomas Jefferson and the other leaders of the American Revolution.”

Svea was getting heated. Elias’s eyes had been darting back and forth between her and Soren, trying to take in everything they were saying. It was hard to follow for him. He had no clue what they were talking about. “Be careful, Soren,” Brigitte spoke up, smiling mischievously behind her wine glass. “Svea won all the debating awards in high school.”

“That’s easy when you’re in Norrland,” he quipped, to which Brigitte laughed. Svea wasn’t laughing. Soren took notice. “Oh come on, Svea. I’m just messing with you. It’s just some friendly banter. Has a guy never flirted with you before?” he asked. Was that meant to be flirting?! Svea still didn’t respond. “You get quite feisty. Are you like this in your tutorials, too? You must get really good marks for participation.”

“I get good marks for everything,” she said dismissively.

Soren didn’t let up. After the third and fourth glasses of wine were poured, and after everyone retired to the couches or the floor, lighting their cigarettes because any twenty-somethings who fancied themselves as intellectuals took up smoking to look and play the part, Soren continued to chat with Svea. Jonas and Oscar struck up a conversation with Elias, and he was trying to be polite in engaging with them while also eavesdropping on Svea and Soren. He couldn’t help it. They continued to discuss things he had no clue about, but he still listened. Still made sure Soren wasn’t trying to…pull anything. He was older and smarter and had a nice head of hair and a good beard and every time Elias looked at him, he wanted to punch him. He didn’t like how close he was standing to Svea. He didn’t like how Soren looked at her how he looked at her. Shouldn’t he be focused on Brigitte – on at least her fifth glass of wine and chain-smoking in a chair next to the front window – anyway?

“The term you’re looking for is American exceptionalism,” he heard Svea say.

“That essay was a complete farce.”

“The film American History X with Edward Norton would be a good education for you on how white power movements target youth to brainwash them.”

“It’s pretty clear as day that Donald Trump stokes the fires of white nationalism. How can you say it doesn’t? What happened in Charlottesville was a disgrace. And no, it’s not freedom of speech. No. No it isn’t – not to me. Not in the Canadian sense. No, no – Americans have amendments – Americans do. Not Canadians. Canadians have the Charter of Rights and Freedoms. And if your speech promotes hate against an identifiable group, it’s no longer just free speech, it’s hate speech. It’s – no, stop – it’s hate speech and it should have consequences. It’s not free speech.”

They disappeared. Soren led Svea into the kitchen, probably to get more wine or to offer her one of those awful and disgusting herbal cigarettes he’d rolled himself like a dick, and Elias couldn’t see them, couldn’t hear them. He got nervous. It wasn’t that he needed to be in sight of Svea at all times, like some overprotective asshole, but he didn’t like Soren. And when he didn’t like somebody, he didn’t trust them. Especially with Svea. But he tried to calm down, to think nothing of it. He thought about how he should probably google what a social contract was when they got back home. How he should google what American exceptionalism is.

Elias because increasingly aware of the differences between him and Svea. For all that they were the same, their fundamental difference – and perhaps the one most glaringly obvious to him now – was that she knew all of this stuff and he didn’t. She knew what a social contract was, what American exceptionalism was, who all these different political figures and philosophers were and he just…didn’t. And because he didn’t, he couldn’t ask her about it. He couldn’t talk to her about it. No wonder she’d barely stayed quiet all evening, and was barely staying quiet now with Soren – she could actually talk about it! Speak her mind! Show off what she knew! She couldn’t do that with him. She couldn’t do that when hockey occupied his life more than anything, when he traveled, when he knew what she was studying but didn’t know about what she was studying. He was out of touch, so different than everyone else in the room, definitely not as smart as Svea and it wasn’t even close.

He tried not to think about it, but it was all he could think about.

Eventually, Svea and Soren came back. Elias didn’t know how long it had been; he couldn’t tell. But Kristina and Magnus had already left, so Svea wanted to leave too. They hugged everybody, and said their goodbyes, and put on their shoes, and closed the door behind them. As they walked up the street, far enough away from the house, she grabbed his hand. “Did you like that?” she asked. Her voice was soft.

Elias nodded his head. “It was nice to see everyone. To see what they’ve all done since we left school.”

“Too bad we had to see Brigitte again,” Svea quipped. “Soren was interesting, too.”

Interesting. Interesting. Elias nodded his head. “He seemed very worldly.”

“You know he’s like, almost twenty-seven?”

“Oh yeah?”

“Seemed weird to me that he was hanging out with a bunch of 21 year olds trying to prove he was smarter than everyone else.”

When they got back to the house, they let Tequila out one last time before going upstairs and getting into bed. Svea could tell something was up with Elias, but it was one in the morning and she didn’t want to press it. He was probably just mentally exhausted like she was – being around a big group of people for so long took a lot out of them. And it was different when it was a big group of people you knew versus a group of people you knew but didn’t converse with a lot on a daily basis. So instead of asking about it, Svea instead cuddled up to him over the covers, draping an arm over him and giving him one last kiss before falling asleep, hoping it would help.

***

Svea hadn’t slept well all night. Because of Elias.

The way that he was clutching on to her, like she was a feather and would fly away at the slightest bit of wind, confirmed to her that there was something wrong. Elias liked to always be touching her in some way or another, especially in the last few weeks – hand holding, hand on thigh, sitting close – but this felt different. This felt like something was wrong, that there was something bothering him that he wasn’t verbalizing, and it was eating him up inside. He’d been tossing and turning the whole night (she’d felt it). He’d gotten up a few times throughout the night to go to the washroom or the kitchen for water, taking longer than she would have liked each time.

His body was so rigid, so cold. So different from how it usually felt.

“What’s wrong, Elias?” she asked softly, looking up at him though she kept her head on his chest. She brought one of her hands up to cup his face gently. He leaned into her touch.

“Nothing. Don’t worry,” he said.

She pushed herself up, still on top of him but perching herself against her elbow. “Stop lying to me.”

“Svea…”

“Elias, you always tell me you would never lie to me,” she used his own words. He knew she was right, but it pained him to make her worry over something so…stupid. “Did somebody say something last night? Was it Brigitte?”

Elias shook his head. “It wasn’t Brigitte.”

“Then what is it?”

Elias took a deep breath, trying to compose himself. He didn’t want to get emotional in front of her, even though he was getting emotional. Just thinking about it made his heart hurt and head spin. “Am I holding you back?” he asked softly, but directly, looking into her eyes. “Be honest.”

Svea furrowed her brows. She didn’t quite understand his question. “Holding me back from what?”

“From…I don’t know. Things you want to do. Things you want to talk about, since I can’t talk about them.”

She could see the tears begin to well in his eyes, and in that small, emotional moment she knew. She knew what he meant by his question, what he meant by his words. It made her heart break realizing he was thinking this way, that he could ever think this way. “Elias, no.”

“Are you lying to me?”

“Elias, no,” she said more emphatically.

“Because you’re the smartest person I’ve ever met,” he huffed out nervously, his cheeks red and the first tear escaping down his eye.

She shook her head and used her thumb to wipe it away. “I’m not that smart.”

“Yes you are!” he affirmed, his voice cracking. More tears escaped now, and she moved even closer to him as she continued to wipe them all away. “You’re the smartest person to me. You know so much about politics and geography and history and philosophy, and you always explain it so well, and I’m just…just here, being a hockey player, and you could be…you could be out there, talking to all these different, like, intellectual people—”

“Elias—”

“—instead of having to explain stupid things to me—”

“Elias,” she said sternly. “Elias, stop it. I would rather be with you than anywhere else in the world.”

“You were talking to that guy last night, and I know, I know you weren’t flirting or anything, but I know he was, and he was able to talk to you about all these different things, and then I thought about how bad you must want to talk about that sort of stuff all the time because that’s what you’re going to school for, and you can’t with me, you just can’t, and it was awful just sitting there and not being able to contribute because I have absolutely no clue what a social contract is or what any of it means—”

“Elias,” she interrupted him. She knew it was eating Elias up inside. “Soren was some pretentious pseudo-intellectual who didn’t even know Vancouver was in Canada. He made me so mad by insisting that Vancouver was in the States that I almost slapped in at the party. He’s Brigitte’s boyfriend – I should have known anyone that hands out with her would be that way – but he’s an idiot, Elias, the worst kind of idiot. The type that thinks he’s not an idiot just because he reads books and went to university.”

Elias was silent. He sniffled a few times, wiping away his own tears. “I know it sounds selfish of me to say, but I don’t want to lose you, Svea. I just got you.”

“You’ll never lose me, Elias,” she whispered, her thumb grazing over his lips lightly.

“And you know how much I love you, right?” he asked, his voice still a bit shaky even though she shot down any notion that Soren was match to Elias, or equal to him in any way. “Svea, in my eyes you hung the moon in the sky. You’re the sun and the stars and I just live in your universe,” he said.

Svea nodded his head. “I love you more than anything, Elias. I don’t want you ever thinking you’re holding me back or anything like that. You’re the only one for me in this whole damn universe. We wouldn’t have stayed best friends for so long if you weren’t.” She paused briefly. “Do you remember what you told me at Brock’s?”

“I can’t now. I’m too emotional,” he admitted.

“When I asked you if you ever get sick of me because we’re always together, you said that we’re an extension of the other, and you said if you couldn’t be in the same room with yourself all the time, then who can you be with,” she recounted his words. He nodded and stayed silent to catch his breath. “If I could go anywhere, to any planet, to any star, to any galaxy at the edge of the universe, I’d just want to be in a room with you.”

Tears poured out of Elias’s eyes at her words, and he clung onto her with everything he had in him as he buried his face into the crook of her neck. She felt his tears on her skin, and she clung on to him as tightly as he clung on to her. She held him for a while, rubbing soothing circles onto his back.

She let him cry. It was important to let him cry.

When his shaking stopped and his breathing steadied, and she knew it was safe, Svea was able to look him in the eye again. He was no longer embarrassed. Nothing was off limits now. “You’re the only person in this world for me, Elias. Nobody else comes close.”

He nodded. He understood.

“I love you,” she whispered.

“I love you too,” he said.

“Show me,” she urged. “Show me how much you love me.”

Almost immediately he began kissing Svea – big, wet, open mouth kisses that left her completely breathless and utterly hypnotized the longer they went on, and they went on for a long time – longer than she was used to, but she wasn’t exactly complaining. More kisses, more heat. More touching. More moaning. More hands wandering, more hands squeezing. His hand traveled down to her core. Svea’s breath hitched in her throat at his touch. She mewled into a kiss. “Elias—”

“Shhh…” he began kissing down her neck. She mewled out again as he teased her hot core without any warning. She squeezed her legs together, the sensation new. “I’m gonna show you how much I love you.”

“Show me,” Svea nodded quickly. “Show me I’m yours.”

The words were simple and innocent but it ignited something within Elias. He rolled her over onto her back, fussing with her shirt before tugging it up and over her head and diving right towards her breasts, capturing a nipple in his mouth. Svea let out a surprised gasp. She could feel him roll his tongue and she closed her eyes. She arched her back at his touch. “Elias—" she stuttered out, unable to form any other words besides his name. When he was done with her breasts he kissed a trail down to the waistband of her pajama pants before pulling them and her underwear off all in one go, flinging them across the room. “Elias—”

No warning. No precursor. He just dove right in. Svea shrieked out at the feeling of his tongue between her folds. It was all new to her, and she didn’t know how to feel – the only thing she knew was that it felt good. Like, really good. It took her a while to get to her senses before she could speak. “Elias—” she gulped. “El…Elias—”

“S’it feel good?” he mumbled against her lips.

She nodded her head feverishly. “Y—Y—Yes,” she barely managed to get out. She’d never felt anything like it. “Fuck, Elias” she huffed.

“Tell me what you want,” he mumbled again, snaking his hands up to squeeze her breasts.

She could barely think. “I want…”

“Come on, pretty girl,” he cooed.

“I want you to make me cum, Elias,” she was barely able to breathe.

Elias continued with as much passion and enthusiasm as she’d ever seen, thoroughly and honestly enjoying the experience of eating her out like she was his favourite meal even though he hadn’t tasted her yet. His laps were rhythmic and perfect, his sucking flawless and immaculate. Like everything else he did in his life, Elias was perfect at it. Svea was seeing stars. She arched her back again, huffing and puffing and trying not to go crazy. “I’m so close, Elias.”

“Cum for me, Svea. Let me taste you.”

When she came, her entire body shook; every part of her, from head to toe, felt like it was on fire. She cried out, chanting his name over and over again like a prayer before squeezing his head between her thighs. When he lapped up every last drip, he rose from his position, moving to kiss her. She tasted herself on his lips and groaned. She wrapped her legs around him and he snuck his hand between them and positioned himself at her entrance, teasing her. She was barely recovered from her orgasm when she felt the tip of his hard cock teasing her. She dug her nails into the skin of his back. “Fuck me, Elias,” she mewled out, knowing it would drive him crazy – wanting to drive him crazy. “Show me I’m yours.”

Everything about them up until now had been so soft, but this was different. There was a different sort of intensity now, a different sort of pleasure and a different sort of love they were both feeling. He entered her in one quick thrust, making her cry out again. There was nothing soft about the way he proceeded to fuck her – he felt possessive and selfish and greedy all at once, wanting her only for himself. The sounds she was letting out told him she wanted it that way – she liked what he was doing, and how he was doing it, and she wanted to be only his instead of being anyone else’s. That gave him the confidence to keep going, to keep fucking her like he was, because if she wanted it, and wanted it that way, that’s all that mattered.

He looked her right in the eye as he thrust in and out of her. “I’m yours,” his voice was deep and serious. “I’m yours and you’re mine.”

“I’m yours and you’re mine,” Svea repeated after him.

They came together. Svea’s orgasm felt more powerful than her fist, and she could feel Elias filling her up, his body shaking after his last thrusts. He collapsed on top of her and buried his face in her neck. They caught their breaths slow and steady, trying to make the feeling last. He was still inside her when she felt his lips grazing the skin of her neck, dragging their way up to her jawline and to her ear. “I’m yours and you’re mine,” he whispered.

She smiled. “I’m yours and you’re mine.”

>< >< >< >< ><

“What would you classmates say if you showed up to class with a Louis Vuitton backpack?”

Svea gave Elias one of her looks as he browsed through the backpacks at the Louis Vuitton store in Stockholm, Emil behind him trying one on and Fanny beside her, looking down at the jewelry in the glass case. “Don’t even think about it,” she mumbled. In their last few days in Stockholm, Elias had been beyond generous with her. She felt like Julia Roberts in Pretty Woman. “And it’s summer. Don’t make me think about school.”

From beside her, Fanny laughed. “You already bought her the Chanel bag, Elias.”

“And the Prada sunglasses,” Emil quipped.

“And the tickets for tomorrow night even though they were sold out,” Fanny added again.

The more they listed, the redder Svea got. She looked to Elias. He shrugged. “She might need another bag. You never know.”

Fanny looked over at Svea dramatically. “Do you need another bag?” she asked, a smirk on her face.

“What I need is food,” Svea giggled. She saw Elias smirking from his spot. “But I know we’ll be here another hour until Emil tries on all the backpacks and makes a decision.”

“You know me very well, Svea,” Emil said absent-mindedly, still checking himself out in the mirror.

As they sauntered around the store, looking at all the pretty things while Elias helped Emil decide on a backpack, Svea and Fanny chatted and looked at wallets and the limited edition purses, which cost about double what Svea was paying in tuition at UBC. Svea always loved Fanny – she was funny and bubbly and had her head on straight. Plus, she was an animal lover and let Svea come over any time she wanted to play and cuddle with Tequila, Whiskey, and Diesel. Svea appreciated her kindness.

“I didn’t think it was possible to see Elias even happier, but I think he is,” she mentioned when they were far enough away from the boys, pretending to look at the shoes. “I mean, he’s always happy with you, no matter what you guys are doing, but now especially so.”

“You think so?” Svea blushed.

“Oh, I know so,” Fanny nodded. “Everyone can see it. Even yesterday…you didn’t see, but when we were all at lunch at that pasta place, he just stared at you for a good, like, fifteen seconds. Just in awe of you.”

“What was I doing?”

“Stuffing tagliatelle into your face.”

Both girls giggled but a shiver ran up Svea’s spine. She hadn’t caught him doing that – and she didn’t know if she would have wanted to. “I hope I looked semi-attractive doing it and didn’t have alfredo sauce spilling down my chin.”

“I think it’s just that…well, now that you two are together, everything is just…the way it should be, you know?” Fanny continued. “Me and Emil, you and Elias…Irene and Törbjörn were over the moon when you guys told them. Over. The. Moon.”

“Really? They seemed pretty…unsurprised when we told them.”

“Oh, well of course we were all unsurprised. But that doesn’t mean they were any less happy,” Fanny explained. “They were over the moon that it happened now instead of you guys dancing around it for the next few years. You know they love you, Svea.”

“Did we keep them waiting too long?” Svea joked.

“You kept all of us waiting long enough.”

After Emil bought his new backpack, they headed to Griffin’s Steakhouse, one of the best in Stockholm, for dinner. Elias was recognized by a few people as they were waiting for their table, and he politely took pictures with them. Svea was sure she was in the background of some of them, holding her Chanel and Prada shopping bags like some sort of bougie creeper. It happened quite a bit in Vancouver as well, and everyone was generally nice and polite about it. Elias made time for the kids especially, but in this case, it was mostly grown men. Nobody bothered them while eating, which is all that mattered.

They walked back to the hotel. Emil and Fanny hugged and said goodnight to Elias and Svea before walking down the hallway to their room. Elias stuck their key card in the door. He threw his bags down onto the bed and collapsed on it, starfish style, as Svea giggled. “I’m going to take a shower,” she said, placing her bags neatly on the chair at the desk. Elias groaned in response. “Are you going to be okay if I leave you alone or do you need help changing into your pajamas?” she asked like he was a little kid.

She heard him snort. “As much as I want you to peel every article of clothing off of me, I’ll leave you be.”

Svea took a long shower – long enough for her to feel completely cleansed of the day. She put one of the luxurious bathrobes on, tightening it around her waist before brushing her teeth, putting on her moisturizer, and grabbing her hairbrush. As she brushed through her short hair, she heard the door handle turn. Elias’s head popped through. “Hey.”

She looked over at him squeezing his way through the door. He still hadn’t changed into his pajamas. She wondered if he’d stayed on the bed face down like a starfish for the duration of her shower. “Could have knocked,” she smirked.

“Cause I haven’t seen you naked?”

She scrunched her face at him as she sat on the toilet, continuing to brush out the tangles in her hair. “Is there something wrong?”

“No,” he shook his head. “I just wanted to give you something.”

“If it’s your dick, the time has passed for shower sex.”

“No, it’s…”

As he trailed off, Svea noticed for the first time that he was very clearly holding something behind his back. She was skeptical. “What’d you do, Elias?”

“You know when you and Fanny were in Chanel? Before Emil and I came in?”

“Yeah…”

Slowly, his hands came forward from behind his back to reveal a box wrapped in white paper and sealed on the edges with a wax seal. She didn’t recognize anything special about it, or know what it was at first. He handed it to her and she examined it quickly. “What is it?”

“Why don’t you open it?”

She placed it in her lap and unwrapped it delicately, making sure not to break the wax seal. It must have been important, she thought, if the thing was wax sealed. Unfolding the paper and peeling it back gently, she saw a red box. Cartier. She looked up at Elias. “What did you do?” she repeated, her voice more accusatory but also more nervous than it was moments earlier.

“Svea, come on. Open it.”

She pushed the small button. Inside, the infamous Love bracelet in gold sat staring back at her on its plush velvet. It was shiny and sparkled in the light of the bathroom as Svea held it in her lap, staring at it like it wasn’t real. In real life, she didn’t get things like this. She didn’t even come close to them. Now, that had changed. “Elias…” she whispered.

“Do you like it?” he asked.

“Of course I like it.”

“I know it’s kinda like, basic or whatever…like a lot of people have them—”

“I don’t know a lot of people who have them,” Svea interrupted him. “The only person I know who has them is Grace and that’s because she bought them for herself.”

“Yeah,” Elias nodded quickly. “I just thought…well…look on the inside,” he said, suddenly so shy and nervous about it all.

She took it off its holder and held it up to her eye. She saw the traditional engravings of Cartier, the gold quality, and everything else. But then something else caught her eye. Some intricate script. Small, but legible.

I’m yours and you’re mine

She stared at Elias. “You didn’t.”

He only smiled. He bent down on his knees in front of her, in between her legs, resting his hands on her thighs over the plush fabric of the robe. He could see her admiring it, taking a second look at the engraving and at how much the gold shone in the light. “Can I put it on you?” he asked softly.

Svea nodded. He grabbed the screwdriver from the box and screwed it onto her wrist easily, taking his time, making sure to make every moment last. He knew that it was just a piece of jewelry – an expensive piece of jewelry – but she so obviously loved it, and loved the sentiment, and he was an extremely sentimental person, which is why he got it for her in the first place. They stayed silent until he was finished, and even then, they only smiled at each other – bashful smiles, their cheeks red at the simplicity yet intimacy of the moment. He couldn’t help but lean up slightly to give her a quick kiss. “Won’t be the last time I kneel in front of you, you know.”

Svea smiled even wider, but shook her head playfully. “If you say so. We’re only twenty-one.”

“Doesn’t matter to me,” he said, giving her another quick kiss. “If you wanted to get married tomorrow, I’d do it.”

“I know you would. That’s why we can’t,” she giggled.

“I love you, you know. As much as hockey is my life, sometimes I just wish it could be summer all the time so I get to spend it with you,” he whispered.

That was something new. Elias loved her, but he was only ever obsessed with hockey. It was his entire life. It was the other love of his life, and how he made his living – how he was able to afford Cartier bracelets and Chanel bags and surprise Coldplay tickets even though they were sold out months ago. To hear that he wanted it to be summer all the time – a time when he couldn’t play hockey – was new. He’d never said anything like that before. She didn’t know if he’d openly admit that to anyone else besides her, either. She felt privileged knowing, but now she was also the gatekeeper of the secret.

He picked her up. She yelped slightly, giggling all the way to the bed where he plopped her down. By this point, her robe had become loose, and she took it off to change into her pajamas. She tucked herself into bed, Elias slipping in beside her, cuddling up to her. In almost no time, she felt his breathing steady and he was peacefully asleep.

She wasn’t.

She tried to fall asleep like a regular person, especially because of the day they had ahead of them tomorrow, but she couldn’t. She kept thinking about what he said. Sometimes I wish it could be summer all the time. Did he really mean that? Or was he just saying things for the sake of saying them? Because he was in love? Because he was letting that feeling of intense love overtake him? Svea knew hockey meant more to him than a lot of other things – than most things – though Elias was always intent on being remembered for being a good person rather than just being a good hockey player. Did he only want her in the summer, when he didn’t have to think about hockey?

She tossed and turned thinking about that question. And when she couldn’t toss and turn anymore, when she couldn’t stare up at the ceiling anymore, she got out of bed gently, making sure not to wake him. She walked over to the sliding door and stepped out onto the balcony, breathing in the night air.

Did Elias only want a summertime Svea? Did he only want the version of her that he was with now? She thought about what she was like during the summer – happier, less stressed, more carefree about everything. No wonder, since she didn’t have readings and assignments to worry about. And it was no wonder now, since this was essentially her last summer before things got really serious. She had a lot of decisions to make in the upcoming year about her future and what career path she wanted to go down. She was taking the GRE in case she wanted to pursue a Master’s in public policy. She was taking the LSAT in case she wanted to pursue law school. She was sure there was some other entrance exam out there that she needed to take if she wanted to go into something else, too. Another thing to stress her out.

What if she couldn’t always be summertime Svea for him? Elias deserved her at her best, not when she was tired and stressed out and crying over bad marks and awful professors. She knew she couldn’t always be her best for him, especially now that they were in a relationship. Friendships were different – they just were. Relationships were an entirely different ballgame, and Svea wondered if they were going to be able to maintain what they had and were experiencing right now: the laughter, the fun, the joking, the good sex. The good parts. Would they be able to withstand the hard parts: the stress, the pressure, the traveling, the bad games, the bad marks? One part of her said of course they could, because they’d been doing it for years. Another part of her said things are different now, and they can never go back to what they were.

Svea didn’t know what to think.

***

“There’s something wrong.”

Svea had been sipping on her beer as she and Elias were waiting outside of the stadium’s washrooms for Fanny and Emil. The opening band had finished their set, and now everybody was waiting for Coldplay to take the stage. Svea was giddy-nervous, having remembered how amazing the band was live last time she saw them with Sigrid at least five years ago now, but the thoughts from last night were stuck in the back of her mind.

“What do you mean?” Svea asked innocently. “You think Emil got stuck in a toilet or something?”

“No. Something’s wrong with you,” he clarified. “What’s been bugging you since this morning?”

So he knew. And judging by the look on his face, and how close he was, she wasn’t going to be able to get out of this. She knew she should have been honest with him from the beginning, but she was being stupid. “Elias…”

“It’s not the bracelet, is it?” he asked, reaching out slightly to grab her wrist where it lay. “If you don’t like it—”

“No no, Elias, I love it,” she said, looking down briefly at his hand now holding hers. “It’s just…you know how yesterday when you said you sometimes wish it was summer all the time so you’d get to spend it with me?”

“Yeah…”

She gulped. “I feel like you might have an idealized version of me in your mind…like, like a summertime Svea, where I’m not stressed about school or finding a job or missing my family, but then when September comes around and you’re in hockey mode and I’m in school mode and everything changes it’s going to be much different…and I don’t know if I can, or will be able to be, summertime Svea for you.”.

Elias had furrowed his brows the second she mentioned ‘idealized version of me’. He listened to her ramble, and the silence he took afterwards made Svea the tiniest bit nervous. “You don’t need to be summertime Svea for me,” he said finally, choosing his words precisely, but using her own words too. “You don’t need to be anything for me besides you.”

“Yeah, but—”

“But nothing, Svea.”

“I don’t…I don’t want to let you down.”

Now Elias really furrowed his brows. “How could you ever let me down?” he asked. She shrugged her shoulders. “Svea, you remember what I told you after Soren?” he asked. Svea nodded her head. “You’re the sun and the stars, Svea. You give me life no matter what you do. Don’t you get that? I know that you have a lot of big decisions coming up this year and I know there’s going to be a lot of ups and downs for you this year, and for me, but there’s nobody I’d rather experience them with than you. Whatever they are.”

She nodded her head. They way that he said it – the way he said anything – made her want to cry. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologize.”

“I just want to be what you deserve,” she said.

“You are what I deserve,” he said, leaning down to kiss her quickly. “Actually, no – not even. I don’t deserve you.”

Svea couldn’t help but smirk, and as she stood on her tiptoes to kiss Elias again, she couldn’t stop. She kissed and kissed and kissed, and she didn’t care who saw them. She loved him, she loved him so much, and even though they were insecure sometimes, as most people were, they loved each other, they loved each other, and that’s all that mattered.

“You guys are gross,” Emil’s voice interrupted, his voice playfully disgusted at the sight before him. “Every time I look at you guys, you’re kissing. Do you guys even breathe?”

“Shut up Emil,” Svea huffed, unable to suppress her smile.

When they got back to their section of the floor, they only had to wait five minutes for the lights to dim and Coldplay to take the stage. Svea began screaming her head off and she and Fanny danced and swayed along to the music, singing along at the top of their lungs song after song. As she sang, Svea could feel herself letting things go – anything negative was escaping her body and being replaced with pure joy and elation. Any worries she had about the upcoming year were gone; any worries she had about anything were gone, replaced only with a need to live in the moment, to appreciate everything she had, to recognize what she’d done in her life thus far that brought her to this exact moment, singing and swaying to Coldplay in Stockholm.

Svea felt Elias wrap his arms around her from behind, resting his chin on top of her head as he began to sway with her. And as she felt him lean his head down to give her light kisses on her temple and cheek, it cemented the fact that there was no place she would rather be.

>< >< >< >< ><

Like any good Swedes, Elias and Svea had been looking forward to Midsommar.

Elias had a huge extended family, who usually rented a massive marquee and perched it on the banks of Ångesjön and had a massive dinner and party on the Friday night. His grandmother was making his favourite dish, sausage stroganoff, and of course, all the other foods and delicacies associated with the Midsommar celebration. Between family, friends, and neighbours invited to the festivities, they were anticipating around seventy people.

Elias couldn’t keep his eyes off Svea ever since she arrived at his house with her parents and Sigrid wearing a white and floral embroidered dress that fell just above her knees; he couldn’t keep his eyes off her as they drove to the marquee on the lake, where members of his family were already setting up the maypole; and he couldn’t keep his eyes off her now, as she was sitting at a table with some of his younger female cousins, helping them make flower wreaths to wear as crowns.

“You and Svea are the talk of everyone here,” Sigrid said as she watched Elias watching Svea. They were sitting at their own table, scrubbing the potatoes that would be used for later.

“Are we?”

“They’re saying the same things we did. ‘Oh, finally?’ and ‘It’s about time.’ You know, the usual,” she giggled. Elias knew that just a few weeks ago at Emma and Jonas’s dinner they hadn’t said anything because they wanted to keep it a secret, but there was no use now. He knew word would have gotten around eventually, and that there was no use stopping it. Besides, this way would make it trickle down from old people to people his age, anyway. “So many girls in Ånge will be heartbroken,” Sigrid joked.

Elias shrugged his shoulders. He didn’t really care about that – he never did. A lot of girls didn’t like how close he was to Svea and had gotten jealous over the years. He didn’t even think twice about it. “So long as the most important girl isn’t heartbroken, that’s all that matters,” he said.

“I don’t think she ever could be with you,” Sigrid said, looking at Svea at the table with some extended Pettersson cousins. “Besides, we all know you’re not capable of heartbreak. You’re too much of a good boy.”

Elias laughed, knowing that Sigrid was right. There was a constant sentiment in the Pettersson household that Irene and Törbjörn never had to ‘worry’ about Elias. The only times he would be out late was when he was at the rink; he always did fairly well in school, behaved, was nice to the other kids and to the teachers; and he didn’t have any dangerous vices like drinking or drugs, save for maybe being obsessed with his phone. It was more than he could say for a lot of his peers, but then again, many of them didn’t have the singular focus of hockey in their life, driving them to achieve a nearly impossible goal of playing in the NHL. “I can be a bad boy, though,” he said.

“Oh yeah? How? Staying up past your bedtime?” Sigrid quipped.

“Ask your sister.”

Sigrid’s jaw dropped and she pretended to convulse. “Oh my God I think I’m gonna throw up,” she mumbled, covering her mouth for dramatic effect as Elias laughed and laughed and laughed. “You’re gross. Stop violating my sister’s innocence.”

“I don’t know if I’d call her innocent.”

“That’s it, I’m leaving,” Sigrid said, setting her scrubber down and getting up to leave. Elias laughed as he watched her go inside the marquee to one of the coolers and grab a drink, shaking his head as he smiled to himself and continued to scrub the potatoes.

***

“Sveeeeaaaa,” Elinor, one of Elias’s little cousins, handed Svea her flower crown. Many of the cousins had made theirs before coming, perhaps with their parents, but others hadn’t. Svea took the opportunity to help them, setting up a little station at one of the picnic tables filled with flowers and leaves. This was her favourite part of Midsommar anyway (save for maybe a drunken Små grodorna dance), so she really didn’t mind. Three cousins had already finished, and she was left with sisters Elinor and Eliza. “The leaves I’m trying to put on aren’t staying. Can you help me?”

“Of course my darling,” she smiled, putting her own crown down delicately to help with Elinor’s.

Eliza came over too to watch Svea put the leaves on. As she looked between the leaves being fastened on the wreath and Svea’s concentrated face, a thought came to her mind. She’d seen something earlier and needed to get to the bottom of it. “Svea?”

“Yes Eliza?”

“Are you and Elias finally boyfriend and girlfriend?”

Svea smiled, if only at the use of the word finally. It seemed like even the kids had been waiting for them to get together. “Yes. We’re finally boyfriend and girlfriend,” she said. “Why do you ask?”

“We saw you holding hands,” Elinor piped up, as if she was bursting at the seams to say something but didn’t because Eliza, as the older sister, needed to mention it first. “And then before you came and sat down with us, he kissed the top of your head like Emil kisses Fanny. And we know that boyfriends and girlfriends hold hands and kiss.”

Svea smiled from ear to ear at their innocence. At only nine and ten years old, they would see something like that and think that it was something boyfriends and girlfriends did. It was only natural to come to that conclusion. “Does it make you happy to see Elias and I as boyfriend and girlfriend?”

Both of the girls nodded their head enthusiastically. “You’ve always been around,” Elinor said.

“It’s like you were always part of our family anyway,” Eliza added.

“Are your mommy and daddy happy that you have a boyfriend?” Elinor asked.

“I think they’re happy that it’s Elias,” she sort-of joked, even though she knew the girls wouldn’t get it. “But yes, they’re happy I have a boyfriend who they know loves me.”

“My daddy says we’re not allowed to date until we’re thirty,” Eliza said. “Are you thirty?”

Svea snorted. “No my darling, I’m not thirty. I’m only twenty-one.”

Eliza shot her sister a look when Svea revealed her age. “We need to talk to dad,” she said sternly, and Elinor nodded her head.

Svea couldn’t help but smile from ear to ear. It was hilarious, but she didn’t want to be responsible for the girls’ revolt against their father. She stuck one last flower into the crown before turning towards Elinor. “Well, here you go Elinor. Can I put your crown on you?” Elinor smiled as Svea put the flower crown on, adjusting it with her hair and making sure it wasn’t going to fall off. “You look like a princess!” Svea exclaimed. “A beautiful Swedish princess.”

“The most beautiful Swedish princess ever,” Elias’s voice suddenly appeared beside her. Svea smiled quickly at him before he crouched down so he could be eye level with Elinor. “What do you say to Svea?”

“Thank you, Svea,” the girls said in unison. Svea grabbed Eliza’s crown and put it on her too before the girls skipped away happily towards their other cousins.

Elias took the opportunity to slip in beside Svea on the picnic bench and get close to her. He saw her crown laying on the table and picked it up delicately, making sure not to ruin any of the small flowers. “May I?” he asked.

“Of course.”

Svea bowed her head and Elias put the crown on her, adjusting in with her hair much like she did with the girls. When she raised her head again, Elias was met with her smiling eyes, a playful grin appearing on her face. He blushed, letting a bashful smile overtake his face. “You’re so beautiful, Svea. So, so beautiful,” he whispered.

“It looks nice?” she asked.

He could only nod his head. He leaned in to kiss her, unable to detach his lips after a few kisses because his pure desire for her. Sitting there in her dress with her crown was too much to bear for him. He was simultaneously the smartest man in the world for bagging her yet the stupidest man in the world for waiting so long. He placed his hand on her thigh underneath the table as she pulled away. “I love you.”

“I love you too.”

“And you look beautiful. I mean, you always look beautiful, but you look especially beautiful today.”

Svea smiled. “And you look so handsome with potato skin dirt in between your fingernails.”

Elias snorted. As they giggled, he leaned in to kiss her again. “I can’t believe I got so lucky,” he mumbled against her lips.

“Likewise,” Svea smiled.

***

Midsommar had been a huge success. There was lunch, and the traditional drinking of nubbe and singing nubbevisor. Then there was the små grodorna dance around the maypole with everyone, followed by a generous slice of strawberry cake. Almost everyone – kids and adults alike – participated in the games: tug of war, horseshoe tossing, and potato sack races – for most of the afternoon. After drinking the afternoon away and stuffing themselves with barbecue at dinner, Svea and Elias found themselves inside the marquee with everyone else, dancing along to the traditional dansband music being played.

They were a bit drunk, and a lot happy.

After dancing a bit with Emil and one of Elias’s uncles, Svea found herself attached to Elias, smiling and giggling as he twirled her around and tried his best to keep to the beat of the music despite how much he drank. She’d tried to absorb some of the alcohol in her system by eating extra cookies, but it didn’t seem to work. That didn’t matter though – all that did matter was that she was having fun dancing with Elias. She was having fun twirling with Elias. She was having fun singing with Elias.

She wanted to have more fun with Elias.

When they had to take a break, simply to just get more water to stay hydrated, she came up with an idea. She stuffed the last cookie she had into her mouth and stuffed the napkin into her bra before she grabbed his hand and tugged gently on it to get his attention. “Can we take a walk?” she asked, trying to sound sweet despite the cookie. “I need some air.”

“Yeah. Yeah of course,” Elias said, screwing on the bottlecap for his water. He took a step before stopping. “You’re not gonna throw up, are you?”

“No no. Just want some air, and some alone time with you,” she admitted as they stepped out of the marquee. The sun wasn’t exactly setting across the lake (it being midsommar and all) but it did leave the sky streaked in all sorts of beautiful colours – pinks and oranges and reds, all beautiful and blending into one another.

They walked along the lake, far enough that the dansband music became only a muffled noise in the background and the lights around the tent looked like stars in the sky. They held hands the entire way, admiring the views over the lake, until they finally came to a stop. As they sat down on the grass together, looking out at the lake as they leaned back on their elbows, Svea turned towards Elias. “Are you having fun?” she asked.

He nodded his head. “Of course I am,” he responded, smiling at her. “Are you?”

Svea nodded her head. “Always when I’m with you.”

“Have you sobered up a bit? Did the cookies help?”

She let out a giggle as she nodded her head. “Kiss me, Elias.”

Like many other times when their lips met, once they started, they couldn’t stop. Small kisses at first, then big, wet, open-mouth kisses that Elias could get drunk on so easily. He found his hands going straight towards Svea’s chest, feeling her up through the fabric of her dress before pushing the straps down slightly. Before he could do anything else, he felt Svea pushing him down onto his back, her body half-hovering over him as she perched herself up on her elbow.

Her free hand was initially on his chest, but the more they kissed, and the more heated things got, the further down it went. When he felt it at the top of his pants, there was a sharp intake of breath and he stopped kissing her. “S…Svea what are you doing?” he whispered.

“Shhh…” she cooed, placing butterfly kisses along his jawline. Maybe it was the alcohol making her so bold, but she knew she was being so, and that it was a surprise to Elias. He’d enjoyed his beer too, but he held his alcohol better. Never mind the fact that, technically, seventy family and friends were a ten minute walk away. She fiddled with the button on his pants until it was undone, and followed up with pulling his zipper down. “Is that okay?”

He nodded his head fervently, letting out a jagged sigh. She pushed his pants and underwear down slightly to free his cock. Before she went any further, she brought her hand up and made sure Elias was looking at her as she licked her hand and spit on it. He let out an indescribable sound – something between a groan, a yelp, and a cry. “Svea—what’re you—where’re you—” he stuttered out.

“Shhh,” she cooed again. She looked at him but he looked at her hand slipping down to his hardening member. He was already a little hard due to all the kissing, but the second she touched his cock with her wet hand, he swore he got even harder. “I want to make you feel good, Elias,” she whispered, wrapping her hand around his cock. “Does it feel good?”

He nodded, unable to formulate words. Okay, so his girlfriend was going to jack him off on the banks of the Ångesjön. No no – not going to – she was jacking him off right this second and he was getting harder and harder the more her hand moved up and down his shaft. God, of all the times he did this alone in his room in Ånge or Timrå or Växjö or Sundsvall or Vancouver or anywhere else in the God damn world thinking about her, her specifically, and now she was here, doing it for him, in a flower crown and dress with one strap pulled down, exposing her bralette…fuck. FUCK. He couldn’t believe this was happening to him. He couldn’t believe she was doing this. He couldn’t believe—

“Kiss me, Elias,” she practically commanded, dragging him away from his selfish thoughts.

He did, hot and wet and like a teenager who didn’t know how to kiss, with his tongue everywhere as he reached up to drag her bralette strap down with her dress strap to expose a breast. He moved down to her jaw and clavicle, eventually kissing her breast. She let out sighs and mewls as his hands squeezed and his tongue grazed over her nipple quickly, but his mind kept going back to what she was doing and how hot it was. “D’you like this?” Svea asked.

“Fuck yes.”

“Are you close?”

“Spit on your hand again.”

She did as she was told, reaching back down to keep up her movements. She felt Elias’s breaths get more laboured and when he bucked his hips ever so slightly, she knew what she had to do. She moved down slightly. The loss of her breasts near his face made Elias whine. “What’re you—” he began to ask, but he couldn’t even finish his sentence, because by the time the words came out, he knew what she was doing, and he felt like he was going to pass out.

He watched as she pushed the fabric of her dress with her free hand. She lowered her upper body towards his cock, making sure to give him a perfect view. “D’you like that?”

“Svea—”

“Do you?”

“Yes!” he whispered harshly. “Fuck, fuck yes I like it.”

She pushed her breasts together, trying to get some cleavage as a visual for him, even though she didn’t have a lot to work with. “Cum for me baby,” she purred.

“Sv—”

“Cum for me, Elias. I wanna see your cum on me.”

Elias felt a tidal wave of pleasure pass through him as he saw himself emptied onto Svea’s chest, her hand continuing to pump and stroke him for all that he was worth so he could continue to feel the pleasure he was feeling. He had to close his eyes momentarily, the sight before him of Svea’s chest with his cum on it almost too much for him to take in. When he opened his eyes again, she was on her last, gentle strokes, a small smile playing on her face. That made him want to do it all over again, even though he’d barely come down as is. “Holy fucking shit,” he could barely catch his breath.

“You like what you see?” she asked,

He couldn’t believe what she’d asked him to do, and that he actually followed through. “Fucking hell, Svea. Of course I do.”

She let out a short giggle, biting her bottom lip. “This is the dirtiest thing I’ve ever done,” she admitted. While it may have been extremely tame for some people, it wasn’t for her. Maybe she’d eventually grow to think it was tame, but it wasn’t right now. It was hot and it was impulsive and it was everything she could have wanted in the moment, everything she could have needed in the moment alone with Elias.

Elias dragged her back up by the arm, giving her a giant kiss. “You’re going to fucking kill me,” he mumbled, his breath steadier now. “That was the hottest thing I’ve ever seen.”

“Maybe I’ll do it more often,” she offered.

Elias wrapped his arms around her body. “You do whatever you want and whatever’s comfortable, pretty girl.”

She grabbed the napkin that she’d stuffed into her bra earlier in the night that had fallen out during their activities – the one that held the cookies she’d sobered up on – to clean her chest. Elias wasn’t dejected as he watched her clean up, but he knew he’d want to see it on her again. When there wasn’t anything left on her, he leaned forward and placed kisses all over her chest, capturing her nipples in his mouth again and sucking gently before finally letting her pull up her bralette and the fabric of her dress. He fixed his underwear and pants, and soon enough, to an unassuming eye, it looked like nothing had even happened between them. “I’m going to fuck you on the car ride home,” he blurted out.

“With Sigrid there?” she quipped, reminding him that they had to drive her sister.

“Sigrid can go with your parents. She’ll understand. Just talk to her.”

“And if she refuses?”

“Then I’ll fuck you in my bed at home.”

“With your parents in the house? And Emil and Fanny?” she asked again, giggling. He wasn’t thinking straight. He had only one thing on the mind. “Fat chance.”

“We can be quiet,” he said, almost like he was trying to convince himself.

She gave him a look. “I can’t. And I know for a fact you can’t shut up.”

Elias made a pissy face, upset at all the roadblocks in what he thought was a straightforward, foolproof plan. He pulled her body to lie against his side, and when she snuggled into him, she lay her head on his chest. They were quiet for a few moments, recollecting what just happened while staring at all the colours in the sky over the lake. Elias kissed the crown of her head. He knew they would have to get back to the tent soon too, so people wouldn’t get suspicious. “I love you,” he whispered.

“I love you too.”

“And I meant what I said, you know,” he continued. “Do whatever’s comfortable for you. You don’t have to feel forced to—”

“I know, Elias,” she smiled, kissing him again. “You don’t have to say it. I know.”

***

Elias and Svea integrated back into the party inconspicuously. They resumed their dansband dancing together, twirling and swinging again, holding each other close as laughter filled the space between them. Törbjörn stole her away for a dance, and her father too for a few. Elinor and Eliza were passed out on chairs despite the loud music. Fanny and Emil danced beside them. Sigrid danced with Elias’s younger cousins.

Everything was right in the world.

200 notes · View notes

redstainedsocks · 4 years ago

Text

Hurt

Warnings: Box Boy Universe, pet whump, dehumanization, beatings, caning, punishments, victim blaming (or something like it), collars, choking hazard/strangulation.

Word Count: 1.4k

TagList: @haro-whumps @theycomeinthrees, @whumpthisway, @samanddeaninpanties, @teachunks, @draganies, @pepperonyscience, @whump-it, @castielamigos-whump-side-blog, @untilthepainstarts, @galaxywhump, @kiretto-laorentze, @lonesome--hunter

[Set directly before this, where Brandon notices the marks on his back.] [Meditation explained here]

I think this might be one of my favourite Kit pieces yet, so thank you to the people who asked to see what happened before the previous piece! I hope this really shows a lot about Kit’s character.

* * *

It hadn’t been on purpose. As most things often weren’t.

He was weary, sore, fading on his feet. Trying to do his daily meditation had been a chore and he did it with grudging certainty that avoiding it because he was tired wasn’t allowed. He hadn’t meant to nod off on his knees, tethered to the wall. He jerked awake with a start as he started to slip and his collar choked the breath from his lungs.

He squeaked in surprise, righted himself and felt the drowsiness threaten to overwhelm him again. He fumbled for the clasp that would free his collar from the hook in the wall, his fingers and thumbs slipping over the simple mechanism.

He couldn’t get it, couldn’t make it open. No-one was here, it was useless to cry out, but he couldn’t get it off and his eyes were barely staying open, his mind refusing to stay awake. He grunted, tried again to press the simple button that would open the clasp and missed.

He wanted to sleep. He needed to sleep. He could feel the tendrils of it clawing their way into his brain, could feel the sluggish way his body moved, and how he almost forgot between one second and the next what he needed to do. He swallowed reflexively, knowing he’d choke if he fell asleep like this, and that his throat would ache for days.

Biting his lip he let his hand trail round to the back of his collar and fingered the buckle. He squeezed his eyes closed and it hardly took anything to loosen, to pull the leather, ease it back, working the metal out of the hole. It took nothing to open his hand, and let it fall away.

It was easy, to sit back on his heels and sigh in relief. Throat bare, choking impossible. He curled over his knees and sobbed in frustration.

How could it be so easy, and so hard? Why was it so simple to remove, and yet so forbidden?

He slammed the palm of his hand against the wall, leaned forward to slump against it in defeat. He hated it. Hated being so close to comfort and not allowed. Hated being left alone to deal with problems like this all by himself. Hated the responsibility that was placed on him to govern his own actions as well as the other pets in the store. Why couldn’t his owner be a proper Owner and keep him in sight, keep him in line himself? Why did it have to be so hard.

It was easier once the collar wasn’t on his neck to get the angle right and undo the metal clasp that clipped it to the wall. He held it in his hands for a moment. Rubbed his thumb over the leather, the metal, the worn material near the buckle.

And then he flung it across the room, as hard as he could. It clattered against the far wall and skittered across the floor a short way until coming to rest. He breathed hard and sobbed once, before crawling blindly forwards onto the thin mattress that served as his bed. He curled up, and was asleep instantly.

* * *

He hadn’t meant to sleep in. Usually he woke with the morning light, but not that day. Not the day when his collar was loose from his throat, across the room, where it definitely shouldn’t be. That day he woke at Emile’s voice calling his name, Emile’s footsteps sounding on the stairs, Emile’s key turning in the lock.

He opened bleary eyes and curled up tighter and then stretched, letting his back pop and his limbs complain at sleeping on a barely-there mattress. He pulled himself up as Emile clattered into the room, dropping bags of food and his keys and who knew what else onto the table.

“Up and at ‘em Kit. Hurry up. It’s not like you to be sleeping in.”

“I’m awake Sir.” He climbed to his feet, stretched again, and only then noticed the feel of his bare neck. His heart stopped. His lungs refused to work. He choked. Choked on nothing, choked on the terror—choked the way he would have the previous night if he hadn’t freed himself—as all the memories came crowding back in, and all his defiance died with the dawn.

He stole one look at the black collar, innocent and motionless on the floorboards. He gulped, pinned his eyes on the floor at Emile’s feet and hoped and hoped and hoped that his owner wouldn’t notice anything was amiss.

Owners always noticed, they always knew. Pets weren’t allowed things of their own, not secrets, not choices. Kit knew this, he knew he was Emile’s and that every little thing he did reflected back on the person who held the power over him. He knew it in his bones—in the bruising, and the training and learning through pain—but what he didn’t know was why it hurt. Why it curdled his stomach and ate away at his resolve, why it made him want to cry or rage, why it made him want to run away and never look back. Why did it hurt when that’s the way it always was, when that’s what he was made for?

Emile hurried him into the bathroom to get moving for the day, and he fumbled his way through cleaning up and getting ready. His mind on the band of fabric that should be adorning his neck, not discarded on the floor. If he could just get to it before Emile, if he could just slip it back on…

Emile was holding it in his hands when Kit emerged from the bathroom, his face like a storm—calm but ready to burst free and unleash hell.

“What is the meaning of this?”

Kit fell to his knees in the time it took to blink. “I’m sorry. I… I didn’t mean to.”

“You didn’t mean to? Are you trying to tell me it was an accident? That it left your throat by itself and you just didn’t notice?”

Kit shrank into himself, all the fire and frustration from the night before had burned itself out. He was hollow. Empty.

“You wear this because I tell you to wear it. The fact it is removable by your own hand is a mark of my trust, not something for you to exploit. How often do you take it off, hmm? How regularly do you disregard orders, just because I’m not here to see it?”

“Never, I promise, I never have before. Not ever. I thought i was going to choke, I couldn’t breathe, I was tired and I couldn’t get it undone and—”

“Enough excuses! If that were true you would’ve undone it carefully and then replaced it as soon as you were able—not thrown it across the room and left your neck bare for your own comfort!”

“I’m sorry.” He curled over his knees, so low that his hair brushed the floor. “Please, I’m sorry.”

“Get. Up.”

The anger brooked no argument, the order held no negotiation. So he did as he was told, his body shaking with the effort of keeping himself upright.

Emile strapped him shirtless onto a chair, straddling the seat so his back faced outwards. His limbs held in place by the leather pulled from the cabinets and tied tightly down. The cane, swift and jarring, hit his back fifteen times—until he screamed. And then Emile thrust it between his teeth and forced his jaw closed around it.

“Hold this until I come back for it.”

He nodded and closed his eyes, clamped his teeth onto the smooth cane so it wouldn’t fall. He spent all day like that, tied in place, his back open to the air and ready to be struck. His body protested but he couldn’t do a thing about it, couldn’t even move, and wouldn’t dare ask for respite. Emile rarely used restraints, he knew Kit would take his punishments without being tied down, so the fact that he had been was just another sign of how badly he’d screwed up. He wasn’t trusted, not even to hold himself still.

Each time Emile came upstairs to his office, or to make himself a drink, he removed the cane from between Kit’s teeth and layered a few more strikes over already brushing flesh. Told him how bad he’d been, and how good he was expected to be from now on. Told him how inconvenient it was to have a disobedient, disrespectful pet, threatened re-training, reminded him of the duties he wasn’t performing while he had to be corrected. Words that slipped below the welts on his back, words that marked deeper, that scarred him more.

By the end of the day the only hurt he knew how to focus on, was the one that helped him to learn, so he could be better. Any other pain that lived inside his heart, that wanted to climb out his throat and scream about unfairness, had been wiped clean—beaten out of him.

Emile gently buckled the collar back in its place, rubbing the leather to soften it to the curves of his throat. “What does this tell you?”

“That I belong to you,” he said, voice barely a croak, dry and sore.

“Yes. Do better, in the future. Don’t take the freedoms I give you for granted.”

He nodded, numbed, relief washing over him at the day reaching its end.

He didn’t know why it had seemed so hard the day before to live by someone else’s rules. Obeying was always easy, and always best—it was everything else that got him into trouble.

52 notes · View notes

craftypeaceturtle · 4 years ago

Text

Sanders Sides Fic Rec

As a heads up! It’ll be very obvious that I prefer Virgil angst and so there will be a definite bias. Just a heads up! All of these will be on AO3 because... it’s the best haha! Also, I’ve only just noticed that a lot of these aren’t necessarily shippy but hey ho! Anyway, here we go!

What Students Teach- mt_reade, 4,000 words.

Hello! My name is Thomas Sanders, and I just finished my first year as a teacher.

I taught a grade one class this year, at a relatively small school. I’ve known that I wanted to be a teacher since I was young, and babysat for the first time. I just love kids so much, and I remembered how much my teachers had an influence on me growing up. I wanted to be able to do that for others. I’ve known for a long time that teaching is the right job for me.

But, what I didn’t know, is that the teaching goes both ways, and the lessons that my students have taught me this year are more valuable than any of the things that I taught them. I’m writing this now to share with anyone who reads this, just precious few of the things that my students teach me.

(I came across this recently but I just love how simple and sweet this idea is! I love how they characterised all the sides in the perspective of children, especially Remus. I feel like it would be easy to write as absolutely ridiculous but he feels still realistic while still being very much Remus!).

I'll Stay Awake (cause the dark's not taking prisoners tonight) - starlocked, 2,000 words, Anxceitmus

Virgil doesn't get to meet his soulmates each night. No, he has nightmares. His roommate decides to stage an intervention.

(I just love this take on the soulmate idea of meeting up in your dreams. I also like that it was no one’s true fault. It would’ve been easy to say that it was all Deceit’s and Remus’ fault for being terrifying but it’s more nuanced than that! There’s not a lot of shippy-ness but it’s still a soulmate au so there we go!)

(don’t) take this the wrong way- delimeful, unfinished, 7,000 words.

Local shark mer Roman finds a tiny mermaid tangled up in a net in his territory, and enlists his siren friend Patton's help to find a way to free the little guy. Unfortunately for Logan, they end up 'borrowing' a human to assist them in untangling the net. Virgil just wants to get out of this nightmare of a situation.

(Maybe I’m just a sucker for merpeople aus, but this is such a good story immediately. Instantly engaging and I’m keeping an eye on it for any new updates. I may also just be a sucker for misunderstandings which is the main conflict so far haha!)

Centaur AU- KieraElieson, unfinished, 10,000 words

Thomas is hired as a centaur groom very abruptly, and is just a little bit lost, but trying his best.

However, when you think of centaurs more as people with animal-like bodies, and everyone else thinks of them as animals with human-like bodies, disagreements are bound to come up.

(So far it’s pretty much setting up the context and characters but it’s done so effectively! The trauma of the characters is handled so well, hinted at and clearly effecting their behaviour, but not so obvious that you immediately know what’s happened to them. Despite being tagged as ambiguous time period, you don’t even really question when the story is set! It quickly grabs your attention and you focus on the story more than any tiny ambiguous details.)

No Longer Alone- Amydiddle, 3,000 words

Anxiety has been living in the basement of Thomas' mind space for almost two years now. A place were all the host's darkness resides. The small side has learned how to take care of himself and how to avoid the sides whenever he goes upstairs.

Tonight's midnight food run goes a bit differently.

(I am so weak for stories about how all the sides formed and first interacted! I think I just fell in love with this concept! Simple but such an interesting fun read!)

The Worst Thing in the World- Arwriter, 6,000 words

Everyone knows Virgil needs to be handled a little differently. He might not like it, but that’s the way it is, and living with the light sides won’t change that. After all, it’s common sense.

Right?

(The first part in a slowly expanding series, the entire series is sooo good so if you like this one then definitely continue reading! It’s such a well written look into their lives, how they handle conflicts and grief. I love Virgil angst where the others get a look into his previous life, no matter how small and sad that look is.)

tales of reverie- cattonsanders, 40,000 words, offscreen Logince.

Roman loves to read bedtime stories to his kids (even if Virgil says he’s grown out of them), but soon Patton and Virgil discover that the story book their dad has been reading to them is actually a portal to the very kingdom they’ve been told about- not only that, but their dad is the prince!

What else will they find as they venture deeper into this new world they’ve found themselves in, and what other, much darker secrets are being kept from them?

(SUCH A CREATIVE IDEA! I love how the plot always kept me guessing but never in a way that felt cheap or misplaced. Characters were introduced and you were left piecing it all together to figure out if they were trustworthy, which is what the main characters are also doing! Will always recommend)

Caught Red Handed- Wholesomereader, 20,000 words

Virgil doesn't like his dad, runs away, and 'accidentally' steals from a local bakery.

Then, the owner of said bakery hires him.

He's in so much shit.

(I love how this is paced and written out. There’s a lot of themes and relationships being built but it still feels easy to keep track of everything and nothing feels swept to the side or neglected.)

Slither Into Your Heart- Jungle321jungle, 6,000 words, unfinished, Anxceit

Deceit didn’t bother to knock as he slammed the door open and glared down to where Remus sat on his bed polishing his morning star.

“What did you do?” Deceit hissed.

Remus gave him a large smile as he looked him up or down, “Do you have the snakes just up there or are they down below too?”

If asked by Patton later, Deceit most definitely did not try to strangle the other side in that moment. Not all.

~~~~

Also known as:

Deceit is turned into a Gorgon. And the new annoying little snakes on his head seem to have an annoying obsession with Virgil.

(Amazing idea, amazing writing, sweet scenes and just! It’s just a nice read! I love how they write Deceit to be this cool tough persona but also named all his new snakes!)

Wings of Anxiety- ShadeCrawler, 7,000 words

Virgil normally kept his wings pressed tight against his back. He never let them out to stretch when he was outside his room. Yes, they got sore after a little while and yes, it rustled his feathers to the point that it took forever to groom them.

But, he couldn’t take them out. He just couldn’t. Dark Sides didn’t have wings. Only Light Sides did.

(Love me some Virgil angst, add in some wings and I’m in! I also love this idea that Virgil was supposed to be a light side all along but circumstances weren’t as fair. Strong self hatred to make a compelling story! Just yes!)

This isn’t what I wanted, but I’ll take it- Simpleton_Cat, 17,000 words, unfinished.

Thomas didn't think he would ever get pets, much less a cat. But here he was, having four cats, Logan, Patton, Roman, and Remus. And then Remus (God, please exorcise the demon that is most definitely in his cat body) brings home two more and then suddenly he's back at the Vet.

Or in other words: Everyone is a cat and Thomas is their owner.

(Again, such a cool idea! I love how this new context for the characters allow for so many new ideas and characterisations. I love Deceit and Virgil’s relationship and how that has shaped, especially how Deceit’s link to lying is written!)

Changing Tides- LadyoftheWoods, 6,000 words.

Virgil ends up overboard of his father's boat during a storm, and expects to drown in the sea. Instead he is rescued by merpeople, in more ways than one.

(Virgil angst plus merpeople- well hello! I love the slowly forming family relationship between the characters. I also love how Virgil reacts to finding out merpeople exist, feels genuine but not too drawn out.)

A Fanciful Dream- AceDetective, 20,000 words, Prinxiety

Virgil could say with certainty that he was no prince. Found by King Thomas’ chef, lost and with no memory of who he was, Virgil spent his childhood running errands in the halls of the castle. When a young King visits and claims Virgil is his brother, Virgil must determine if this is truth or a young King’s hopeful dream.

(While this is very fast paced, everything feels justified and well explained. The confusion between both Virgil and his brother feels so genuine and well written. The quiet slow reaching out makes sense for the both of them!)

Ten Things- LostyK, 30,000 words, unfinished, Anxceit, Royality

When Roman Prince learns that Patton Foster isn’t allowed to date until his older brother, Virgil, is, Roman is crushed. Roman’s twin brother Remus, however, comes up with a plan: find someone who is willing to date Virgil.

And who better to ask than Janus Verona, who according to rumours is willing to do anything for the right price?

(This is one where I kept a close eye to see if it updates, while a silly idea, it’s so well written! I love how Deceit is written as slowly caring and falling in love while still maintaining his persona, just like Virgil! I also love how Virgil is characterised as his usual anxious self but a bit more persona based like before accepting anxiety)

You Can Picani Family You Want- DramaticGarbage, 20,000 words, Analogical, Royality.

Emile finds himself in charge of two small boys who need somewhere to go. It’s going to be a learning curve for everyone.

(If you love found family stuff then this is it! It’s a series of oneshots about different parts in their lives but I love the themes and how the characters progress through each moment. It’s so sweet and rewarding. Plus it has big boi Roman which is always a plus!)

Fatherly Sides- Bright_Sea, 60,000 words, Moceit

There are good and bad days when it comes to being a father. Deceit and Patton learn all about it while raising their four boys.

(Similar to the one above, lots of found family sweet moments all connected by the larger plots and themes. The angst of the larger plot is given the seriousness and gravity that it deserves. I love how trauma is talked about and dealt with in a healthy manner. Everything feels so genuine and realistic!)

Colors- Badgermole, 49,000 words (21 works), Logicality.

A collection of stories where Logan is a young Virgil's dad. Virgil happens to be autistic and has a fascination with colors. Unless otherwise stated: Virgil is aged around early elementary school age with Roman 2 years older.

(Again, with the sweet family moments with minimal angst! I don’t have autism so I can't say whether it’s realistic or not but it’s very well written and covers a lot of autistic themes and everyday life. Actually, read pretty much everything by badgermole as their writing is so good and they tackle a lot of disabled issues!)

Powerless- patentpending, 187,000 words, Logicality, Prinxiety.

“People like us,” Logan had once remarked to Virgil. “Are statistical anomalies.”

(Almost) Everyone in the world has powers. As for those who don’t, well, they’re such a small part of the population - only 0.04% - why would anyone care about them?

Ever since he realized what people mean when they call him Powerless, Virgil Sanders has tried to fight back against the system that oppresses people like him, Patton, and Logan. When Patton’s bakery is targeted in a hate crime, he finally snaps. With the help of a mysterious sponsor, Virgil becomes a villain, ready to remake a broken society. The only thing standing in his way is the world’s most Powerful (and infuriatingly charming) superhero: The Prince, who is hiding the fact that his gilded life isn’t as perfect as it may seem.

(So well written! While fast paced, everything feels so well balanced. Main characters and their plots balanced with new OCs that don’t feel too much and justified in being there. The plot kept me guessing while still feeling justified and interesting.)

Grounded- InstantFire, 18,000 words

No matter your age, punishments are no fun. Despite being no fun, would you be willing to do anything to avoid said punishment?

(I don't know what it is about this piece but it's just sooo good! I’ve reread it so many times, it just won’t leave my mind! I love how it’s carefully written where we don’t quite exactly know what the misunderstanding is until it’s stated out loud for all the characters. Maybe I just have a weakness for Virgil angst and misunderstandings but so worth a read!)

Snow Day- RandomSlasher, 8,000 words

Every year, the sides go to Roman’s realm and spend a few days enjoying the snow. Well…most of the sides. Set pre-Accepting Anxiety.

(SOOOO GOOD! The found family is so well written. Actually, while this is the only mention of Random Slasher because I don’t want this to be too long, read everything and anything by Random Slasher. So well written with some amazing ideas.)

Looking for the Light- OreoButter, 30,000 words

Remus, Deceit and Virgil Dark are Brothers. They had an awful home and now are in the foster system. After being passed from family to family they finally end up with Thomas. Remus is gross, Deceit is a compulsive lier and Virgil has crippling anxiety. Virgil will do anything to protect his brothers, at any cost. The family of three will have to face trial and the truth as they search for the light.

(I absolutely love found family if you couldn’t guess already! But I love how they wrote the sibling relationship between the dark sides, feels so genuine and justified. There is shipping but it feels more like a side plot so!)

Sightless- riverblujay, 9,000 words

Virgil is blind. It's not a big deal though, right? But he hides it, because if the other sides knew they would push him away again. And besides, he's pretty good at faking being sighted...

And the other sides are also more observant than he realizes.

(Again, this is another fic that I keep returning to! Also, I’m not blind or have any partial sight so I can't so whether this is realistic but the conflict and comfort feels so genuine and justified.)

The Black Hole Group Chat- Greenninjagal, 26,000 words, LAMP.

Cat_feelings: [I just have a lot of feelings for you Logan]

Anxi_Tea: [platonic?]

Cat_feelings: [does it matter?]

Anxi_Tea: [you’ve known him for twenty five minutes.]

*** aka a text fic where Logan texts the wrong number and everything goes downhill from there.

(I know text fics can be a little hit or miss but the chemistry feels so real and fun. The characters are still very much themselves, a lot of text fics can feel out of character. I also adore the fact that Virgil is mute so the fic has a reason for why the group chat is used despite them all meeting in person. So good, will always recommend!)

April Fool’s- feduphufflepuff, 5,000 words

This is Virgil's first April Fool's Day with the FamILY, and he has no idea what to expect.

(Love me some Virgil angst and misunderstandings so here ya go! The found family vibes and the comfort and just ah! So good, just go read!)

#sanders sides #virgil sanders #patton sanders #roman sanders #logan sanders #deceit sanders #remus sanders #not my writing #fic rec

31 notes · View notes

topherfoxtrot · 4 years ago

Text

Resilience

Here's the third part of my thunderbolts au. Emil Blonsky scaped his long imprisonment but he didn't went after the Hulk. Where did he go? The answer is bellow the cut. There's an original character here too. I'm not kin of OCs but I didn't find any character who would fit the role I wanted. Said oc will only be a part of this episode so consider it a special guest appearance. I've realized I've been writing more and more with each installment. Sorry about that, I'm getting more comfortable with the whole precess and I like to challenge myself. Continuing the trend, this chapter has a widely different vibe from the previous ones. As usual if you enjoyed please like, share or comment something.

Episode one

Episode two

Emil woke up from a nightmare. It was a fight. From as long as he could remember all Emil did was fight. Now even when he's not awake he's still fighting. He sat on the bed breathing heavily. Wait, where am I? He thought.

"You must be confused." A female voice was heard nearby.

Emil looked around looking for it. The cabin was small. The bedroom, the living room and the kitchen were all occupying the same space. There were two doors, one of them was probably for the bathroom. The woman was sitting at the kitchen table. She dressed a knitted sweater and rabbit slippers.

"My name is Charlie Reznik." She pointed at the soup, "Are you hungry?"

"Where am I?"

"Alaska. Three hours driving from Barrow."

Emil sat on the bed. He was naked. He covered himself with the blankets not for modesty but because they were warm.

"You weren't using any clothes when I found you and you don't seem like the kind of person who would wear my clothes. I hope the blankets kept you warm."

"Found me?"

"Yeah. You were screaming a lot. And throwing trees around." Charlie chuckled, "Eventually you got tired and just fell asleep right where you were. I was thinking about calling the police or something but when you started to shrink I decided to bring you here."

Suddenly Emil looked at himself realizing he did indeed shrink. He didn't look like that anymore. Still, the bones in his hands and abdomen were more prominent than they should be. He took his hands to his back to feel his spine was also prominent. That made him think of the super soldier serum, of the Hulk and of the prison he just scaped.

"I need to contact someone." Emil got up only to fall on the ground.

"Are you okay?" Charlie approached him with caution.

"I think I'll have the soap first actually." Emil muttered realizing how weak his body was.

***

The soup made with vegetables reminded Emil of his childhood in Russia. He had almost no recollection of those few years before he moved to England. He mostly remembered the cold and his mother's soap.

"I need to ask you but.. it's gonna sound weird." Emil was at the table tangled with the blankets, "What year is this?"

Charlie looked him in the eyes to decide if he was being serious or not. Emil didn't flinch so nor did Charlie, "It's 2023."

Emil pressed his lips and started to breath heavily. He was sleeping this whole time. They kept him asleep without ever giving him a chance to explain himself. No consent and no agency.

"No one has heard anything about you since 2008 Mr Blonsky and now you show up in the middle of the forest not knowing the year?" Charlie seemed genuinely curious.

"You know me?"

"I didn't recognize you at first. There isn't much footage from big you. But the sketch from witnesses matched pretty well. They call you the Abomination."

"Abomination?" Emil suddenly smashed the wooden table with enough strength to crack it. Charlie quickly moved her left hard to somewhere under the table. They locked eyes. For the first time Charlie didn't seem warm and inviting but rather fierce and absolutely ready to react. Emil closed his eyes a bit before recomposing himself.

"I'm sorry."

"I also think the name is impolite." Charlie brought her hand back, "But no one knew anything about you except you were military assigned to find Bruce Banner. I had to make some phone calls and turns out my guess was right! You are indeed in the accords database. Quite high level threat.

"What accords?"

"Alright." Charlie put her hair behind her ears, "I need you to be honest with me Mr Blonsky. What's the last thing you remember?"

So he said. He fought the hulk on Harlem, fell unconscious and woke up in Alaska. Charlie brought a computer from a big bag under the bed and put it on the table in a way that both of them could see it.

"The world changed a lot since 2008 Mr Blonsky. Put on your seatbelts."

Charlie then gave him a contemporary history class the best way she could while showing videos and pictures whenever she felt necessary. She talked about the avengers assembling in 2012 to stop an alien invasion caused by a norse god. She talked about the genocidal robot destroying a whole country in 2015. She talked about Wanda Maximoff killing those people back in 2016. She talked about the Sokovia accords and how that made the avengers disassemble. She talked about Wakanda opening up to the rest of the world. She talked about the avengers coming together again to fight yet another alien invasion. She talked about the snap and the chaotic years that followed. She talked about the blip and the even more chaotic year that followed it. Emil listened to everything in silence. It was a lot but he was smart.

"They put me to sleep for fifteen years." He whispered.

"I'm so sorry about that. It's unfair."

Emil had finished his soup but he stayed exactly where he was. Thinking about everything.

"I became strong. I became as strong as I could and still... they defeated me with bed time."

"You're being unfair."

"How come?"

"I don't think strength is really what you think it is."

"How would you know?"

Emil looked at Charlie's small stature with unconscious disdain. She picked on that and wore her fierce eyes again.

"With all due the respect Mr Blonsky..." It was possibly to hear the rage under her words, "You have no idea how strong I am. Thanos snapped my whole family! I wasn't even at home when it happened. Do you have any idea how much strength I needed to gather to simply get up every morning? I may not have big muscles like you -in fact no one does Mr Blonsky - but guess what? You could not have went through what I did. I'm sure of it!"

Emil got up aggressively and so did Charlie.

"You're really pulling the trauma card?"

"Wanna compete?"

"I think I do." He showed his teeth.

Charlie walked across the cabin stepping heavely. She sat on the bed. "Enlighten me."

The challenge got Emil off guard. He hesitated.

"I don't need to tell you anything."

"Of course you don't. If you tell me how traumatized you are, I'll tell you how traumatized I am. Then you will have to admit that none of it gives you permission to do the shitty things you did!"

The cabin merged in silence. Outside there was nothing but the cold wind running through the trees.

"I know your type." Charlie continued, a little calmer now, "Though childhood huh? No perspective of a future so you joined the military. Felt good to explode some heads didn't it? It felt powerful."

Emil remained in silence. He still looked mad, but remained in silence. Charlie went to the kitchen and grabbed a photograph from one of the drawers. She gave it to Emil.

"You're military." Emil studied the photo of Charlie and other soldiers smiling inside a tent.

"Used to be. Came back in 2019. The welcoming party wasn't exactly a party as you can imagine. My house was empty. As I said both my parents and my little brother got snapped. That's when I found this cabin."

"It's not yours?"

"Nah. I don't know who it belongs to actually. It was a cold night and I was just driving aimless. I don't know why exactly. Everything just seemed so meaningless back then. I felt weak."

Emil put the photograph on the table and they both locked eyes again. Not with anger this time though.

"It's cold but it's isolated enough. I could cry and scream as much as I wanted without anyone knowing. And did I need to scream! Scream at Thanos, scream at my parents, scream at myself. A part of me wish it could've been me, y'know? Trust me I would give my life for theirs in the blink of an eye! Yet, here I was."

Charlie sat at the table again. The temperature of the cabin went from 20°C to 40°C and then to 20°C again. Emil felt sorry about the table but most importantly he felt sorry for making Charlie mad.

"There's no much to say." He started, "Though childhood. No perspective. Joined the military. After everything I've seen, being strong is honestly the only option. It's survival."

"I get it. I really do. But strength is not on your muscles."

"Don't come with this heartfelt bullshit."

"It's not." Charlie chuckled, "Trust me I won't fall for that bullshit either. It's something else."

She got up and grabbed an old book from the shelf near the bed.

"All those things were already here when I got here for the first time. There was water, gas, energy, the bed, the blankets. It's like whoever lived here had just left. I've known this place for couple more than three years now. No one is ever here except me, yet the feeling never goes away."

The old book was covered with leather.

"Self help book?" Emil asked.

"In a way." Charlie tilted her head, "This book is about the universe. But not like a scientific encyclopedia. This book is about the whole universe, about the energy that comes from different parts of the multiverse and how to harvest and manipulate them. Essencially, magic!"

"Alright it's a self help book. Magic is not real."

"I was honestly hoping you would say that." Charlie smiled, "Check this out!"

Charlie put her hands in front of her and took a deep breath in order to focus. She moved her hands vertically and a orange string appeared from thin air. Charlie's hands drew a circle in the air and the string curved itself in a circumference. Charlie closed her hands as if grabbing something and with another gesture polygonal forms started to draw themselves in the magic circle. Charlie snapped her fingers with both hands and the whole thing started to spin like a magical ferris wheel.

"You discovered magic!" Emil whispered.

"Of course I didn't! People have been studying that for a long time. I just happened to find a weird book." The magical strings disappeared as Charlie stopped focusing so much on them, "You know when you are depressed so you set a simple goal just to give yourself a little achievement?"

"No, actually. But that's seems like solid advice."

"It is!" Charlie chuckled, "Anyways I read this whole book in like two days and I didn't understand shit. But I was super interested and started to dig the internet and beyond for anything related to all the weird concepts I found. I read the book more two of three times after that. Each time I learned something different and gained a new perspective over myself and the universe around me."

"So it is a self help book!" Emil laughed.

"As I said, it is but in a weird way. I mean look around. There's aliens and gods and the multiverse. When you think of all of it don't your problems seem way smaller?"

"I'm not sure."

"Here's how it's gonna be. I go to Barrow buy you some clothes and you think about everything I just said." She grabbed a jacket and wore boots, "But you have to pay me back alright? Otherwise I'm gonna hunt you and I'll find you. Remember: I know magic!"

"Okay, that's fair!"

Charlie grabbed a ring with slot for two fingers in a kitchen drawer. "That was one of the things I found here. Magic becomes weirdly intuitive once you learn some basics."

She made that focused face again and started to draw circles in the air with her right hand. The air in the middle of the cabin heated up and started to sparkle. An orange circle (much like the one she conjured with the hand gestures) appeared but in the middle of it was possible to see an alley.

"What is this?" Emil was shocked.

"Fast travel!" Charlie winked before passing through. The portal was gone as soon as she was gone and Emil found himself alone in the cabin.

***

There was a small mirror in the bathroom. Alone, he could check his own body for the first time. His face looked pretty much the same, he hadn't aged one day in the past fifteen years. Besides his hands and shoulders and spine, his elbows were also abnormally prominent. Was he the Abomination after all?

The power felt good, he remembered. Felt god-like. But the cost was too high. Emil became too dangerous and lost control over his own life for more than a decade. He wanted to blame Ross and Banner but would it be even fair? Emil was the one who accepted to take the serum in the first place. He actually pointed a gun at that scientist. He begged to become as strong as the Hulk is.

Emil left the house still covered in blankets. The cold snow made his feet burn but no enough to bother him. He was strong after all. Or maybe he enjoyed the pain in a sick way of reinforcing his own superiority belief. An orange portal opened nearby after a while.

"Aren't you feeling cold?" Charlie asked coming with a bag of clothes.

"A little."

"Come. See if any of those fit you. They're from the local thrift shop by the way."

"I've wore worse."

Charlie bought a simple jeans, two shirts, a flannel and boots. Really simple stuff just to protect Emil from the cold. It fit well.

"Thank you." He said.

"You're in debt, Mr Blonsky. Don't you forget that."

"You know magic." He chuckled, "I can't allow myself to have you as an enemy Ms Reznik."

They both laughed. Charlie sat at the table and started to type something on the computer.

"The feds are all over town." Charlie commented, "They're looking for you."

"Listen," he said, "I need to ask you a favor but first can I go for a walk?

***

Emil took a deep breath before jumping as high as he could. He could not see above the tall trees so he jumped again but grabbed one of the trees this time. Even with his bare hards, the wood bowed to his will. He kept climbing until he got to the highest part of the tree. From up there he could see the whole forest, including the trees he threw around the day before.

He jumped to the ground again. The snow splattered around him. His hands and knees started to bleed but he didn't care because he would break soon enough. He felt powerful and smiled without realizing it. Not a happy smile, bur rather a challenging one. Hey jumped a little before running in the direction of the destruction he caused. He started slow (more like jogging actually) but quickly escalated to marathon running and super human running. The cold wind cut his face like knifes but he didn't care. He just kept going faster.

When he finally reached the glade he jumped again. Even higher this time. When he landed his feet felt bigger. Breathing heavily he looked at his own hands and realized they were indeed getting bigger and muscled. Without wasting any breath he took off all his clothes and started running again. The cold started to bother him less and less as his body grew in size.

He started to scream so he could liberate his anger. He jumped high and landed with his fists causing the ground to crack bellow him. Emil grabbed a fallen tree and threw it to the air. He picked big boulders and threw them around at will. In the middle of the chaos he also started laughing. He was strong. He could destroy anything he wanted. He was as strong as he could be.

When Emil finally felt satisfied with his own display of power, he grabbed the trees and rearranged them back into the ground as best as he could. He picked the boulders and put them back where they were. So when the glade resembled the glade it once was, Emil sat on the ground next to his new clothes.

He started to think about everything Charlie said. Yes, he was big and could destroy everything is his way. But there were gods and aliens and robots and uncontable planets and entities across the universe. He was big and strong but he was also small and weak.

His strength though wasn't on his muscles but on his ability to survive. He survived his childhood, he survived the military and he survived the Hulk. Just like Charlie survived the snap and the aftermath. Like Charlie found new meaning in magic so could Emil find new paths to follow.

"I'm big and I'm small. I'm strong and I'm weak. I'm still here." Emil whispered to himself.

His body started to shrink calmly. Once he achieved regular size he wore his clothes and walked towards the cabin. Charlie smiled when he entered.

"Had fun?" She heard the screams obviously.

"Yeah actually. Thanks for everything."

"No problem. Remember, you're still in debt! So what favor do you need?"

"I need a portal but I also need an address. I believe you can find the person I'm looking for in the Sokovia accords database."

"Hm alright. What's the name?"

"Ava Starr."

#emil blonsky #thunderbolts #FoxtrotFanfic

3 notes · View notes

klarsynt-arc · 4 years ago

Text

the neon lights circling around the ceiling over the bed give everything a strange, pink hue. but he likes it. the entire room is meant to convey nothing but comfort and sensuality. more pillows than one could need are neatly stacked against the headboard, the rug beneath his bare feet is so plush it feels like he could sink into it. emil swears he has never stood inside somewhere so soft.

“ you’re distracted. ”

the woman’s voice makes emil lift his head to meet her inquiring gaze. she pauses in the doorway of the bathroom, head tilted and eyes raking over him in an overly observant manner before she walks closer. it isn’t like this is his first time doing this, but it’s been a while. either way, he always feels nervous meeting escorts for the first time. he knows he wouldn’t even be here in the first place if she didn’t find him an appealing client, but he still always has that anxious need to please. “ sorry i... ” she doesn’t need to hear about his day “ i was just admiring the lights. ”

“ oh? i can change the color. some men prefer something more...masculine i suppose, ” black curls fall over lina’s shoulder when she tilts her head back to glance at the lights in question.

“ no– i like it, ” reassurance comes quietly as his gaze settles on his companion. “ it’s nice, ” he murmurs when her eyes meet his. they still hold something inquisitive in them and it feels like a question when her hand raises to his chest. her fingers are gentle but he can still feel the warmth beneath the fabric of his shirt. such a simple touch but it makes his breathing grow a little more shallow. he thinks maybe he was starting to forget what it feels like for someone’s hands to not feel so cold and apathetic when they touch him.

“ you’re one of those contractors, right? ” her hand glides lower over his abdomen until her fingers curl into the hem of his shirt. she barely waits for him to nod before she speaks again “ i recognized the credit code. but i would’ve been able to tell anyway. ” lina’s free hand lifts to his face and it makes him grow more still than he already is, finger lightly runs beneath his eye before touching the scar that rests on his cheek. “ you have that look in your eyes. ”

lids fall shut, almost on instinct, and his face tilts into her hand. a slow inhale is drawn and he swears he could really just stand there like that the entire night and be more than okay with it. it could be just enough to have someone look at him, see him and touch him. remind him he’s capable of feeling something good. but that’s not exactly what they’re here for and he’s reminded of that when her touch withdraws so she can finally pull his shirt away. eyes blink back open and he shifts to help rid himself of the article. her fingers explore his skin the moment it’s exposed, lingering on scars and markings. he can feel the way she’s drawn to it and it makes him wonder if it’s why she chose his application. maybe she likes people like him. soldiers. agents.

dangerous men with sadness in their eyes.

the moment her mouth is on his he knows it’s true. but he doesn’t mind it. it’s just nice to be wanted. emil leans down further towards her and lifts a hand to cup her jaw, his other going to the fastening of her robe. she tastes sweet. and its in a way that would seem she put something on her lips to make it so, but he finds he likes that too. it’s quiet until they’re both shed of clothing. she looks up at him again then with that same curiosity, her fingers lightly trailing against his hips. “ what are you here for, emil? you don’t have to be so quiet. you can tell me what you want...i can use my mouth— ” she emphasizes the sentiment by pressing her lips to his clavicle, tongue brushing against his skin in a way that causes him to draw in a sharp breath. “ or my hands... ” she palms against his length then while she seeks out his gaze once more.

he has to take a moment to ground himself. it’s always so overwhelming for him to be touched in anyway, but especially with intimacy. there’s an intensity that is difficult to explain. but it’s why he came here. he just wants to drown everything out. emil places a hand over one of her own, stilling lina’s movement as his other goes to her jaw. “ i want to feel you, ” he murmurs quietly. a glance is cast towards the bed and it prompts her to curl her fingers around his hand, tugging him to follow her towards it. when she settles on the mattress, she keeps a hold of his hand and guides it to her chest. he doesn’t need further prompting than that, however. his knees press into the duvet as he leans over her, trailing his fingers over her breasts and then up to the base of her throat. her skin is soft. just like everything else here.

emil settles on the mattress, straddling the woman as he explores her body. his hands roam freely along her stomach, over her nipples, across her shoulders, caressing the plump curve of her hips. he’s searching for memories. and it doesn’t take long for one to find him. eyes widen a little, pupils unfocused and while his hands continue to run along her skin his mind is transported. his body is no longer his. instead it’s her walls he feels clenching around someone else, fingernails dig into the man’s chest and rake down. the sound he makes produces a satisfied smile to lina’s lips, one which is broken by a moan when his cock thrusts into her with more ferocity. she’s close. one of her hands glides between her thighs to stroke her clit and it makes the heat in her gut build. she clenches her walls around the man again and moves her other hand to his hair, fingers curling as she tugs him to her mouth.

“ where did you go? ”

emil blinks and his eyes refocus on lina. her hand is on his cheek, thumb brushing over his mouth “ you look so far away. ” he swallows and wonders if there will ever be a day where he could truthfully answer that question. instead he leans forward and presses his lips to hers. it’s a gentle kiss, but there is still hunger in it. he wants to make her feel good. he wants his hands to bring pleasure, not pain. he needs his fingers to be wetted by her rather than by blood. there’s almost a desperation to it when his mouth breaks away from lina’s so he can kiss down along her neck, over her chest and stomach until he’s between her thighs.

he glances up towards her to make sure this is okay, but given the look in her eyes and the excited energy he can feel rolling off of her, it’s more than just okay. it’s all he needs to urge him forward. he presses a kiss against her pubic bone first, then brushes his lips against her clit. finally, he swipes his tongue out to taste her. she responds immediately; hips twitch and a breath is drawn in. emil licks around her bud and her hands quickly find purchase in his hair. “ god— ” she seems to be muttering it to herself more than him. she’s saying something else but he doesn’t quite hear it. his mind is pulled away again while his mouth works over her cunt. conveniently, this time it’s a memory of her doing this exact thing. her tongue against a woman’s sex, her fingers curling inside her and pressing to her walls. the moans that fill the air around them is beyond blissful.

better. that’s where he goes when his eyes unfocus and he is no longer himself. somewhere better. to be someone else. to be someone good. to walk in a life that is about more than violence and greed.

#IDK WHO GONNA READ THIS BUT I DID IT ANYWAY #i've had this concept in my head for so long #i decided to stop being chicken and write it #〖 NSFW: DON’T FLAG ME DUMBLR 〗#〖 TANTALUS: THIS BODY IS A VESSEL TO FORGOTTEN LIVES 〗#my dumbass is incapable of not setting the scene thoroughly and so u get several paragraphs of build up before the naughty #it's just how it is #anyway here is ur reminder sex work is normalized and respected in my lore bc why tf not

4 notes · View notes

holyfuckthisfishcandrive · 4 years ago

Text

Whiskey and Photos

First, Previous (Chapter 20), Ao3

Words count: 1466

Warnings: alcohol, mention of murder, guilt, mention of human experiments, blood mention

Something was wrong.

Logan was sure of it.

Something about him wasn't the way it was supposed to be.

If he was honest that had always been the case but this was some new wrong.

He didn't like it.

Didn't trust it.

Heartrate's sidekicks shouldn't have dropped like that, the exact moment the lights went out as if someone had punched all the light switches at once.

He could do that to machines, electronics and the likes. Not people!

Those boys were definitely human. He had checked after they had passed out. So the reason was him.

He had made them pass out.

Had his powers changed?

How was that even possible?

Powers were developed and then they were supposed to stay that way.

In all his years of research he had never once even heard about powers changing.

It made him wonder if there were more ways his powers had changed.

It made him wonder if this forced shut down would have lasting effects.

It made him wonder if he might accidentally make Virgil shut down.

And that really was the biggest problem. The fear of hurting Virgil. The feeling that he was nothing but a danger. It tasted sour and familiar on his tongue.

"I'm going to give him up for adoption," Logan said staring down at the whiskey glass he was spinning between his fingers. "I have to."

"You don't have to do anything," Remy cut in. "Where the fuck is this coming from? You love the tiny gremlin!"

"I loved her too!" Logan snapped, slamming his glass down. His hands were shaking uncontrollably now. "I loved her and I just..."

He couldn't say it. Couldn't bring himself to put the true horror of what he had done into words.

Remy knew anyway.

"You're scared you'll kill him too," Remy said plainly. From him, talk about murder sounded like talking about the weather. Like a simple 'Looking good out today, doesn't it?'.

Logan wondered how a person could be this cold. Sometimes Remy scared him. Right now he scared himself.

"Well, I'm pretty sure I can speak for Emile when I say that we won't let that happen. You try to hurt him, we'll break your bones."

The threat was delivered so casually yet it still send shivers down Logan's spine.

"Don't give him away, Logan."

He took a sip of his drink.

"The kid's all you've got left now. Trust me on this one."

Remy and Emile couldn't do anything if he shut them down. He should have known he'd lose everything one day. People like him didn't get to be happy. Didn't deserve it.

When had he stopped wanting to throw up when he killed a subject during tests?

Why had he ever thought he could raise a child?

Logan took a shot of liquor and cringed. It was that weird stuff he had tried once and decided to never drink again. It tasted even worse than he remembered but the alcohol burned his throat the way he wanted it to.

He had to get his shit together.

One more raid then he'd be able to stay hidden from the public for at least a year.

Part of him wished he hadn't asked Virgil for help on this one.

But he needed someone as agile and small as him. There was no way he'd find someone else in time.

With a sigh he stood up and put on his jacket.

He only had to stay in control of his emotions. That was all.

After tonight he could begin to figure out what had happened to his powers.

Virgil met him on the rooftop near the lab they'd be raiding.

"What's wrong?" were the first words out of his mouth.

"Nothing," Logan lied. "Just... stressed."

Virgil nodded and did something that made strong metal hooks shot out from his underarm armour about an inch from his closed fist. He made the turn so that the curved hook faced out and a flat one in.

"Interesting mechanism," Logan noted.

"They're good for climbing," Virgil grinned. "Came up with it myself."

Pride dared to flutter its waxy wings in his chest and Logan forced it down. It had brought him enough misery already with every time he let it fly, thinking he could stop it from going too high.

"Let's go then," he said instead.

Logan disabled the security doors and set the cameras on loop with his ability and they snuck into the building.

A security guard rounded the corner and tried to grab his walkie-talkie but Logan made it shut off too. One of the lamps burned out with a bang. That hadn't been his intention. That wasn't good.

Why was his control slipping?

Was the security footage even looped properly?

The security guard pulled his gun and pointed at Logan before he froze and looked around confused.

"Where's the kid?" he demanded.

Logan glanced to his left.

Virgil was gone.

Up, his intuition told him but he forced himself not to look.

"How would I know?," he shrugged calmly. He had to stay calm.

A hook swung from the ceiling and hit the man at the temple, hard enough for blood to splash against the metal and the man to drop just like the sidekicks had.

Logan swallowed hard.

Calm.

He had to stay calm.

Virgil landed next to the guards unconscious body.

"Should we hide him?" he asked.

Logan took the guards gun and shook his head.

"We should hurry. Best case we're gone before anyone finds him."

"Okay."

Logan led the way into the underground lab he had worked at what felt like a lifetime ago. Weird how people called him a monster but didn't see the human experiments they conducted around here under orders of the government.

He was a monster, he wouldn't deny that but he was far from the worst one.

At least he didn't pretend to be anything better than he was.

"I'll get the stuff I need up here. The shaft I told you about is behind that door. I disabled the alarms so you just have to make sure you don't fall down," Logan told Virgil. "Do you remember the code?"

"1342-3369," Virgil nodded.

"I can't guarantee that the cameras down there are off so you'll have to be careful."

He ignored the questioning look Virgil shot him and made his way to the main office.

Behind him he heard the door to the elevator shaft open and something get dragged into the opening.

The office was locked.

Logan kneeled down, pulled his lockpick and got to work.

At this time no one should come down here anymore but he still listened carefully for footsteps. Better safe than sorry. The most important rule of any robbery.

The lock clicked open and Logan slipped into the room.

He knew exactly how the files were stored.

He had come up with the system after all.

It took him less than two minutes to find all the files he needed, he quickly flipped through them and put everything else back in its place. He didn't want Laberts to know immediately that he had taken anything.

He went over to the elevator shaft.

Virgil was no where in site. He probably needed a little longer to get the safe open and get everything Logan needed.

He looked around the room and sauntered over to his old desk.

The chair had been replaced. It looked like it had been packed in a plastic bag. He didn't bother sitting down.

There was a picure and he picked it up.

A family of two woman, a toddler and a baby smiled at him.

The frame had been drawn on, probably by the toddler, with shaky hearts, loopy flowers and inept letters spelling out 'Love yuo Momma'.

Logan set it down again and ignored the feeling welling up in his throat. A family picture he had hidden away and done his best to forget came to mind and he pushed it away again.

He heard metal clanck by the elevator and looked up.

"Can you give me a hand here?" Virgil called.

Logan hurried over to him and took the pack Virgil held up for him before taking Virgil's hand and helping him up.

VIrgil let out a breath of air.

"That was a lot of blood," he muttered.

"Are you alright?" Logan asked. He could smell the blood on Virgil.

"I'm fine. Don't think those fellas down there are though."

Logan still gave him a once over to make sure.

"Can we get sushi tonight?" Virgil asked. "I'm hungry."

"Okay," Logan nodded slowly. "Let's get this stuff somewhere safe first."

He just had to stay calm until he was alone. He just had to make sure he didn't hurt Virgil.

Taglist:

@patton-cake , @isabelle-stars

#sanders sides #logan sanders #ts logan #virgil sanders #ts virgil #parental analogical #tw blood #alcohol #my writing #au #woethough au

10 notes · View notes

patchworkofstars · 5 years ago

Text

I Look At You And I’m Home

Relationship: Remile (Remy (Sleep) Sanders / Dr Emile Picani)

Synopsis: When a bad day at work for Emile derails the couple’s plans for the evening, Remy decides to give him the best possible date night at home!

Word Count: 4,444

Genre: Hurt/Comfort that rapidly turns into pure fluff

Characters: Remy (Sleep) Sanders and Emile Picani, brief mentions of Roman, Virgil, Logan, and Patton

Warnings: Mentions of past insomnia, mentions of a breakup between unnamed characters

Notes: Autistic Emile because I can. Implied autistic Logan because I can do that too. This was supposed to be a short hurt/comfort fic, but then Remy took a small unplanned detour and a whole heap of fluff ensued!

***********************************************************************************************

The sound of the door was his first clue, a soft click followed by a weary sigh. Usually, it would be half-slammed with enthusiasm, and a cheerful cry would ring out of “Remy, I'm home!" or, on special occasions, "I'm back and I brought Starbucks!" But although he strained his ears, he heard nothing more.

“Hi, Em!” he called out, his frown deepening as the silence lengthened. He stretched to see around the side of the sofa, peering over his trademark shades. “Em?” he called again, “Are you okay?” There was only one explanation he could think of for the silence, and it wasn’t a pleasant one.

His fears were confirmed a moment later when his boyfriend finally appeared through the doorway from the hall. From the dishevelled state of his hair, it was clear he’d run his hands through it repeatedly. His necktie was loosened and hung at an odd angle, and his shoulders were slumped. A small shake of his head was his only response to Remy's question, and even that motion seemed weary and defeated.

“Babe!” Remy was at his side in an instant. “Hey, girl, are you down for a hug?”

Emile nodded, and Remy wrapped a reassuring arm around his shoulders, hugging him close. Emile buried his face in the crook of his boyfriend’s neck, breathing in that faint but reassuring aroma of leather, Starbucks, and something uniquely Remy that for him always meant home.

Remy leaned his head against Emile’s, feeling the soft purple hair tickle his cheek. “Sofa?” he suggested, and Emile nodded in reply, clinging on tightly and barely raising his head as the taller man guided him gently over to the couch. There, he finally let his knees give way, and collapsed into the welcoming embrace of both the soft cushions and Remy.

At last, some of his tension began to ebb away, encouraged by Remy’s comforting murmurs of “It’s okay, babe, I’m here”, and “You’re home now, you’re safe, it’s gonna be fine.”

Gradually, his grip on Remy’s shirt relaxed, his white knuckles unfurling until his palms were laid flat against his boyfriend’s chest. He slid them down and around Remy’s waist, hugging him tightly before finally moving back to give him a watery smile.

“Bad day, huh?” Remy asked gently, when experience told him Emile’s voice might be ready to return. “Was it, like, a patient you couldn’t help?” The therapist took most of the stresses and difficulties of his job in his stride, priding himself on finding ways to get even the most reluctant clients to open up. But when his methods failed and he couldn’t help someone in pain, the feelings of not having done enough, or been enough, hit him hard.

Emile nodded, his hand finding one of Remy’s and giving it a squeeze of acknowledgement and thanks.

“So, do you wanna talk about it?”

Emile shook his head. “Can’t. Patient-doctor con… confidentiality.” His words were soft and halting, but determined.

“Oh yeah, that thing. The gossip-killer.” Remy sighed. “Well, could you at least give me, like, an outline? No names, just the part that’s upset you, so I’ll know how to help.”

Emile took a deep breath and released it slowly, considering. Then he nodded. “It was the last session of the day”, he explained. “New patients for couple’s therapy, a man and a woman. The guy was a bit quiet, withdrawn, but that's the way it goes sometimes. I told him no pressure, he could speak when he felt ready to.”

“And I’m guessing he did?”

“Did he ever”, Emile mumbled, scraping both hands through his hair and grimacing. “Halfway through the session he suddenly leapt up, like he couldn't keep it in anymore. He said, ‘I'm sorry, I'm gay. I'm in love with a guy from work.'"

“Damn, girl, that sucks”, Remy murmured sympathetically. “Did the woman yell at him? I bet she yelled.”

Emile took another deep breath and buried his face in his hands before continuing. “Yeah, she did. At him and at me. And she was so loud...” He shuddered at the memory, pulling his cardigan sleeves over his hands and pressing them to his ears.

“That’s rough, babe.” Remy rubbed his boyfriend’s back soothingly.

"Comes with the job, sometimes", Emile mumbled. He sighed, pushing his sleeves back up so he could rub his face with his palms. "I didn't like it, but I understand how she felt. All that time together and it was never real. Two words and it all came crashing down!" He looked despairing at Remy, his face wet with silent tears. “It got me thinking, what if that happens to us?”

Remy took his hand, expression serious, and looked him in the eyes. “Babe”, he said, “I’m gay. I’m in love with a man, and his name is Emile Picani.”

Emile made sound between a giggle and a sob, taking back his hand to swat Remy gently with sweater– or rather cardigan-paws before nestling against him once more. I just got scared, that’s all”, he explained softly, his eyes tracing the geometric pattern of the frieze running around the walls of the room.

He closed his eyes, the pattern suddenly becoming too much. Reaching out blindly, he found Remy’s hand once more and curled his fingers around it, brushing his thumb over the familiar shapes and textures.

“I got scared, Rem”, he repeated in a murmur. “What would I do without you?”

“You’d keep on shining like the gem you are”, Remy told him, his voice low but firm. “But I’m not going anywhere, babe, this fusion is stable. The real question is what I’d do without you to lure me into bed each night with cuddles, and out of it each morning with breakfast.”

At last, Emile's lips overcame the tears to curve into a smile, and he wrapped his arms tightly around his boyfriend. “It's for everyone to eat together, that's the essence of together breakfast", he quoted, looking up to meet Remy’s eyes.

“You’re darn right it is, babe! And it’s, like, a billion times better than the caffeine I used to live on.”

Emile gave a lopsided grin, reaching up to ruffle Remy's dark hair. "Seems to me you still live mostly on caffeine", he teased.

Remy stuck his tongue out. “Sure, but now I have, like, actual meals too, because I get to look at a gorgeous guy while I eat. Speaking of, what do you wanna do about food tonight?”

He glanced across at the calendar on the wall and Emile followed his gaze, knowing what he was thinking. From this distance, it was too small to read, but they both knew what was written in today's square: "Date Night!" in Remy's bold handwriting with a heart drawn around it by Emile, a reminder they scarcely needed of their regular evening devoted to each other's company.

They usually went out on date nights, to see the latest animated movie, or to eat at their favourite restaurant, or sometimes even for a gaming session at the local arcade. But there was no way Emile could cope with that tonight. After the emotional meltdown he’d endured, his heart and his nerves would need more time to recover before he’d have the strength to face the outside world.

“I’m sorry”, he mumbled. “I know you were looking forward to the movie, and it will have stopped showing by next time.” He forced a smile at Remy. “You go without me. I’ll make a hot chocolate and watch a couple of episodes of Ducktales, then have an early night.”

“Hell no!” Remy shook his head firmly. “You think I wanna see a movie without you, babe? We can wait and watch it together on Netflix. I am not-” - he reached out and booped Emile’s nose to punctuate his statement - “Not leaving my Em all alone after a shitty day at work. Would David ditch Nani for a movie? I think not.”

“You’re darn right he wouldn’t!” Emile’s face relaxed into a grin and he leaned his head on Remy’s shoulder, wrapping an arm around him. “I guess they’d make the best of it and find a way to have a fun date night at home.”

“Mm-hm”, Remy agreed, pressing a kiss to Emile’s purple hair. “Then that’s what we’re gonna do. Tell you what, babe, you go change out of your work clothes into something more comfortable. Gimme five minutes to set up, and we’ll make this the best date night ever.”

Emile gave him a tight squeeze and a quick kiss on the cheek, then headed to their bedroom to find his favourite comfort clothes. As soon as he was out of sight, Remy set to work transforming their mundane living room into a cosy and intimate venue for a date.

If there was one thing Remy excelled at, it was turning anywhere into a comfortable place to nap. When Emile returned, wearing an oversize Steven Universe hoodie and his softest sweatpants, he was greeted by a magnificent pillow fort, large enough to house them both while still feeling snug and secure.

The sofa and chair cushions had been upended and stacked to provide a structure over which almost every spare blanket in the house had been artfully draped. The remaining few covered the floor inside, with a comforter spread on top to give the couple a place to sit or lie as they chose. At one end stood the cornerstone of the fort, the sturdy back of their sofa, positioned to provide a leaning place as well as the main support.

“How did you do all this so quickly?!” Emile exclaimed, flapping the dangling sleeves of his hoodie.

Remy shrugged nonchalantly, grinning. “Babe, when you have brothers like Roman and Virgil, you get a lot of practice building dens! We were always making castles, or caves for dragons, or just places to hide from everything.”

Emile laughed, wrapping his arms around his boyfriend. “You’re so talented!” he joked, rubbing their noses together. “Coffee connoisseur, fort-construction expert, fashion icon, and cuddler extraordinaire! I hit the jackpot with you.”

“Nah”, Remy murmured, leaning his head against Emile’s. and closing his eyes. “I’m the lucky one. Thanks to you, I’ve figured out what I want to do with my life.”

“Hmm? And what’s that?” Emile asked, letting go to smile questioningly up at him.

Remy turned away, pushing up his ever-present sunglasses as a rare hint of pink coloured his cheeks. "Doesn't matter. Come on, let's get this date night started. Want to sort out some music while I make us drinks?”

“Tell you what, you choose the music and I’ll make the drinks”, Emile suggested. “I know how many marshmallows I want, and that number is all of them!”

Remy rolled his eyes and groaned in mock horror. “Girl, I don’t know how you can stand all that sugar. I don’t even like whipped cream on my Starbies!”

As Emile laughed and turned to head to the kitchen, Remy added under his breath, “And besides, you’re sweet enough already.”

Emile spun back around, his face lighting up with a gleeful grin. “What did you just say?” he asked eagerly.

Remy’s blush deepened. “Nothing. Just go get those drinks”, he mumbled, making shooing motions.

“Hmm~?” Emile leaned closer, a smile teasing his lips as he peered at Remy. “It didn’t sound like nothing. It sounded like my sassy boyfriend said something mushy!”

“If you heard it the first time, there’s no way I’m gonna say it again!” Remy whined, hiding his red face in his hands.

Emile laughed. “Well okay then, but I’m watching ya, sweetheart!”

He disappeared into the kitchen, and Remy turned to their music collection to pick a soundtrack to their evening. Steven Universe songs usually helped to lift Emile’s mood, but any playlist including It’s Over, Isn’t It would be a terrible choice this time. Something else, then. Emile had handed the decision over to him, so maybe… His hand hovered over his Queen anthology, then drew back. Tonight was for comforting Emile, not twirling him around the kitchen singing at the tops of their voices. There would be plenty of other evenings for that.

Instead, he settled on something classical, turning the volume to a level they’d be able to hear but could comfortably talk over. Swaying a finger idly along to the opening bars, he closed his eyes and breathed in the mingled aromas of brewing coffee and hot chocolate from the kitchen. He could hear Emile begin humming softly to the music, a sure sign he was already feeling more at peace. A rare softness came over Remy’s face as the sound and the scents combined to fill him with an overwhelming feeling of warmth and love. He hesitated for just a second, debating with himself, then slipped into their bedroom to collect something in case he wanted it later.

When he re-emerged, he found Emile making himself comfortable in the fort alongside a tray containing his own hot chocolate, Remy’s black coffee, and a bowl of sweet and salted popcorn. Remy settled down beside him with a grin, slipping one arm around his boyfriend’s waist as he picked up his drink with the other, breathing in the aroma with a satisfied hum.

The steam clouded his sunglasses, so he took them off and placed them to one side. There was no need for them in here, no bright lights or strangers for them to shield him from. Here there was only Emile, and Remy had no need to hide from him.

Looking back at his boyfriend, he met warm eyes shining gently behind rounded frames. He smiled, letting his gaze wander to take in the fading purple hair, the freckles that scattered and danced across pale skin brightened by a faint pink blush, and the soft lips they’d agreed he wouldn’t kiss directly, but whose touch was a frequent delight on his cheeks, his nose, his temples, his hands.

The familiar soft creases formed around Emile’s eyes as he smiled back, wriggling to get comfortable before leaning back into Remy’s embrace, sipping his hot chocolate through a thick layer of melting marshmallows.

Watching, Remy suppressed a chuckle at the pink and white moustache accumulating on his boyfriend’s upper lip. “Hey, Em?” he murmured, his voice a soft rumble.

“Hmm?” Emile looked around, and Remy gently swiped the residue onto his thumb, then licked it away. “You genuinely are, like, ridiculously sweet”, he told his boyfriend, with a grin.

Emile laughed, a bubbling sound of pure joy that filled Remy’s heart with warmth and light. He gazed adoringly back, wondering how he’d ever worried they might not be the right fit. He would gladly spend an eternity hearing that laugh, seeing that smile, tasting the sweetness of Emile’s presence in his world.

He wrapped his arm around his boyfriend once more and Emile hummed contentedly, leaning against him and resting his head on Remy’s shoulder.

“So, how was your day, sweetheart?” Emile asked. “I sure hope it was better than mine.” For a moment his smile faltered, and Remy gave him a sympathetic squeeze.

"I had a pretty lazy day, tbh. I went to the mall and had lunch at Starbucks, then came home and watched that space documentary your nerd of a brother lent me."

Emile sat up abruptly, beaming. "That's great! Logan will appreciate it. I know he sometimes goes overboard trying to ‘educate' you, but he’s just sharing his special interests because he likes you!"

“Yeaaahhh~", Remy drew out the word, grimacing as he did so. "Well, in that case I guess I'm gonna have to try again, because I fell asleep about ten minutes in." He groaned. "God, he'd better not test me on it. The last thing I want is a pop quiz next time I see him. Like, I get that he means well, but some of us are happy wallowing in our ignorance."

“I know." Emile leaned his head against Remy’s. "But I am proud of you for trying. I think Logan just feels left out sometimes, because you're happy to taste all Patton's new recipe ideas and talk with him and me about cartoons. L thinks real space facts are more interesting than Steven Universe, and it frustrates him that none of us feel the same."

“Yeah, I guess so." Remy stretched his legs out before him, wriggling his toes. Then his lips twisted upwards into a wicked grin. "You know, I'd kinda like to see him face off against Virgil. Logan's Scientific Space Facts (TM) versus Virge's alien conspiracy theories. We should, like, get them talking about it sometime, then sit back and watch the fireworks."

Emile stuck his tongue out at him. “You said that about Logan and Roman, and look what happened! They ended up having a three-hour argument about Shakespeare in iambic pentameter!” He booped Remy’s nose. “You’re an agent of chaos, Remy Sanders. Pure, unstoppable chaos.”

“And gorgeous with it!” Remy smirked. “You love me, babe, admit it.”

“Mm-hm.” Emile wrapped his arms around his boyfriend, kissing his forehead. “You’re right, I do love you. You’re the most entertaining real person I’ve ever met.” He winked. “I hadn’t planned on finding you quite this entertaining, as Rose said to Greg, but here we are.”

“Here we are”, Remy murmured, nuzzling Emile’s hair. “It’s been a while, huh, babe?”

Emile smiled, picking up one of Remy’s hands and beginning to trace gentle shapes with his forefinger on the palm. “Mm. I’m glad I stopped by Starbucks on the way home that night.”

“Yeah, me too”, Remy murmured softly. With his free hand, he began idly playing with Emile’s hair. “That was such a crazy night. You probably remember more of it than I do; I was, like, a total wreck back then.”

Emile closed his eyes contentedly. “Maybe, but I still like hearing you tell your side of the story.”

Remy grinned, drinking in the view of Emile’s relaxed smile and the gentle rise and fall of his breathing. “Sure thing, babe”, he agreed. “So, that night? It was kinda late and the place was practically deserted. I was sitting all alone in a corner, drinking, like, my third espresso because sleeping after dark always gave me nightmares.”

Emile waved an arm, his eyes still closed. “You had a bad case of loneliness”, he said. “You needed more cuddles and cartoons!”

“You know it, babe.” Remy chuckled. “Anyway, there you were, looking like I felt, with your hair a mess and bags under your eyes, but you were still the cutest thing I’d ever seen.”

Emile laughed, his cheeks glowing pink in the soft light. “It had certainly been a tough day. Too many patients who didn’t want cartoon analogies for their problems.”

"Yep! And just like today, your voice had decided it was sick of trouble and was gonna hide from everything. So all you could do was point at the menu and mouth what you wanted to the barista."

“But she didn’t understand.” Emile groaned at the memory. “She got more and more frustrated, and so did I, and then...” He grinned at Remy, an unspoken cue for him to continue.

“Well, I could lip read because of Virgil having the same problem when he gets, like, panic attacks. So I put down my coffee, rocked up to the counter, and said-”

"'Just get the cute gentleman his grande Caramel Cocoa Cluster Frappuccino, with whip. And I'm gonna pay for it because he looks like he deserves a break!'" Emile burst in, blushing brightly and grinning at the memory. "I hadn't even noticed you before that, but when I turned around you looked even more exhausted than I felt."

“Yeah”, Remy smiled wryly at the memory. “Insomnia’s a bitch, babe, and she had her claws deep into me back then.”

Emile reached up and gently kissed his cheek. “I know, and I promise I’ll be here so you don’t have to go through that again.”

Remy interlaced their fingers with a relieved sigh. “You’re an angel, Em.”

Emile smiled wryly. “Not everyone would agree with that. Remember, I’ve been kicked out of three different offices for ‘excessive noise’, ‘disturbing other users of the building’, and inappropriate ukulele playing during a tenants’ meeting’.”

He sighed, reaching up to run his fingers through Remy’s hair. “Face it, starbabe, you’re one of the few people willing to put up with me on a daily basis.”

Remy leaned into his touch, contentedly closing his eyes. “Yeah, we’re both disasters, babe. But I was, like, way more of a disaster before I met you.”

“Likewise”, Emile murmured, kissing his cheek again. “I don’t know what I’d have done without you, today or back then.”

“You turned things around pretty quickly, even then”, Remy pointed out. “We kept giving each other awkward smiles the whole wait, and when your drink was finally ready, it just, like, made sense to sit together. And after a few sips of that ridiculously sweet mess, you recovered enough to say thanks, and to... talk with me. We just, like, started chatting, and one thing led to another. I still don’t know how I managed not to scare you off.”

“Gay magic”, Emile suggested, leaning affectionately against him once more.

“Sure.” Remy snorted. “I mean, that would certainly explain how I ended up lying on the sofa, with my head in your lap and you playing with my hair. Because otherwise I have, like, no idea.”

Emile grinned. “Well, magic or not, it was definitely gay! I suggested therapy might help with your insomnia, and you refused because you said if I were your therapist, you wouldn’t be able to date me. And I pointed out that you could always get a different one, but… I think your brain was a bit scrambled by that point, because you put your arm around me and told me firmly that you didn’t want to date another therapist, you only wanted me.” He blushed. “I said you should sleep on it and see if you felt the same way when your head was clearer. So you decided to try to sleep on my lap, which you did.”

Remy nodded, grinning. “It was the best I’d slept in years, and when the barista woke me up trying to tell you it was closing time, I opened my eyes, gazed up at your adorable face, and said, ‘That was amazing, babe, you’ve gotta let me sleep with you again sometime!’”

Emile laughed, his face burning at the memory. “And I said, ‘Only if you take me on a date first’, and then you said-”

“’You’re on, how about Starbucks?’” Remy chuckled. “You asked if we could at least catch a movie first, and I told you sure. And then you got all eager and started telling me about every animated movie that was on, and asking which I’d most like to see. You just, like, lit up with enthusiasm, and I realised then that I was gone. I wanted to spend the rest of my life seeing your smile and hearing you talk about the things you love.”

“That’s so pure and cheesy, Rem”, Emile teased affectionately, reaching out to cup his cheek.

Remy leaned into the warmth, closing his eyes. "I guess you have that effect on me, babe", he murmured, pressing a kiss to Emile’s palm. His face was burning, and he wondered if Emile could feel the heat of it.

When Emile moved his hand, Remy slid down to nuzzle his boyfriend’s neck, breathing in the sweet mingled aromas of coffee, marshmallows, and Emile. A scent so similar to the one that night, five years ago, but now it filled his heart with a warmth and contentment he could never have imagined back then.

God, he was really going to do this, wasn’t he? The gift in his pocket, which had started out forgettably light, now weighed heavy and constant on his mind. He was going to do this, here, now, tonight. His heart was pounding, his mind scrambling to recall the words he had planned through a giddy haze of nerves and excitement. He took a deep breath, and when he spoke, there was a hoarse edge to his voice.

“Emile?”

“Hmm?”

Emile's small noise of response, and his questioning, expectant, utterly intimate expression were enough to conquer Remy's final shreds of hesitance. He was ready. They were ready. It was time.

He kept one arm wrapped loosely around Emile’s waist, while the other reached surreptitiously into his pocket, fingers closing around the small box hidden there. He swallowed, trying to keep his voice light so it wouldn’t betray his nerves.

“You know, babe, I bought something for you earlier. I was gonna wait for, like, the perfect moment, but I guess I’ve realised now that every moment with you is perfect.”

“Sap”, Emile mumbled, grinning as a bright blush spread over his face.

Remy shrugged, giving him a lopsided grin in return. “Yeah, but Olaf was right, some people are worth melting for.” He took a deep breath, trying unsuccessfully to calm his racing heart. “I thought this Remy rider could keep on riding alone, but now I just wanna be wherever you are. So...”

He pulled his hand from his pocket, opening the box to reveal a gold ring inlaid with a ruby, a sapphire, and a garnet. He raised his eyes, full of hope and anxiety, to meet his boyfriend’s. “Wanna make this a permanent fusion, Emile?”

Emile’s eyes widened, and his mouth fell open with a squeal in the back of his throat that grew in volume and intensity until as last his brain recovered enough to translate his emotions into words.

“That is the most romantic thing I’ve ever heard!” he yelled, volume control temporarily forgotten in his excitement.

“Uh, yeah”, Remy mumbled, rubbing the back of his neck with his free hand. “I got Roman to help me figure out what to say, although most of his suggestions were Disney references and, like, way over the top.”

Emile shook his head, his eyes shining. “It was perfect, he said firmly, taking the ring and slipping it onto his finger. “Perma-fusion, activate!” He launched himself into Remy’s arms, then added as an afterthought, “Oh, and of course I’ll marry you, too!”

Remy laughed, his face ruby red as he hugged his fiancé tightly. “Yeah, I got that, babe”, he murmured, pressing a kiss to Emile’s cheek. “And I’ll stick around for good, I promise. Life always tastes sweeter when I’m with you.”

********************************************************************************************

@metaphoricalpluto @the-prince-and-the-emo @musikasworld @softestlittlepuffball @evilmuffin @xxladystarlightxx @suyun-doo @pearls-of-patton @patton-in-name @shesavampirequeen @daring-elm @gabe-killed-me-with-ace-cream

Also gonna tag some people who like Remile:

@coconut-cluster @fiive-second-cookies @gryffindorofcabin21 @lovesupportandcookies @tulipscomeinallsortsofcolors @sandersfanders

#remile #remy sanders #sleep sanders #emile picani #cartoon therapy #sanders shorts #thomas sanders #romantic remile #fluffy fluff <3 #patchwork fic #autistic #autism

785 notes · View notes

notalwaysthevillian · 5 years ago

Text

Parent Trapped

Warnings: Money worries, kissing

Pairings: Romantic Remile, platonic LAMP

Word Count: ~1.9k

Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

Masterlist

Chapter 11: A Real Date

“So, you’ve come to us.”

Remy was sitting on the couch, resisting the urge to roll his eyes as Roman paced in front of him. Logan merely sat on the side, a notebook in his hand.

“Roman, I just asked for ideas of where to go.” Remy shook his head. “Maybe I should just ask Em where he wants to go.”

Practically vaulting over the coffee table, Roman snatched Remy’s phone out of his hand. “No! Please, let us help. I’ve been dying here. You never give us any details!”

“Because there aren’t any to give.” Logan said before either of them could speak again. “This will be their first date, remember?”

There was a huff from Roman. “Fine. But I want to hear details after, okay? Emile clearly makes you happy, and that’s what we want for you.”

“I will give you details.” Remy held up a hand as though he was being sworn in. “Now can I please have my phone back?”

“Not until we think of a place.”

“What kinds of things does he like?” Logan asked, pen at the ready.

Remy thought back to all the times he and Emile had spoken. “Well, he really seemed to like Roman’s play. He loves talking about his job and how well his patients are doing, even though he can’t name names. Oh, when we were talking about Finding Nemo - Dory specifically - he mentioned that he hadn’t been to an aquarium in a really long time. Something about Patton being scared of the sharks and Virgil not liking the tunnel.”

“That’s perfect!” The high-pitched shriek from Roman had Remy and Logan covering their ears. “Sorry. But imagine it! He can check out all the fish while you check him out.”

Logan nodded, putting his pen down. “Not how I would’ve put it, but Roman is correct. An aquarium date seems like it would work well. And if everything is favorable, you could buy him a cute stuffed animal from the gift shop. From what I’ve seen from Virgil and Patton, their family seems the type to appreciate those types of gestures.”

“Can I have my phone back to let him know then?”

Plopping Remy’s phone in his hand, Roman picked up his own and began typing furiously. He and Logan left the room, likely talking to Patton and Virgil in their group chat.

Babe: How does an aquarium date sound?

Honey <3: That sounds lovely! I know a restaurant nearby, we can have dinner and then go to the aquarium if you want.

Babe: Sounds perfect. I’ll pick you up at 6?

Honey <3: Sounds good to me!

The second Roman walked in the door after school on Wednesday, he dropped his backpack and went to find Remy. “What are you wearing tonight?”

“Roman, I’m working.”

“You have a date to get ready for!”

Setting down his tablet pen, Remy spun in his chair. “It’s only three. I’m picking him up at six. Can I get an hour of work done before you insult my closet?”

“Fine.”

Whirling around, Remy continued working on his design. It was a tattoo that one of his regulars had requested, and he was hoping to finish the overall design by the weekend. It covered a lot of skin and would rake in some much needed cash for the parlor.

He quickly fell back into the zone, working on the clean lines. It wasn’t until he felt Roman physically tapping his shoulder that he realized it had already been an hour.

“You’re done!” Roman said, pulling the chair back from the desk. “Time’s up!”

“Okay, okay. Let me save.”

Roman waved a hand toward the tablet before tapping his foot on the ground. When Remy had finished saving, he found himself being dragged into his bedroom. Logan was already in his closet, sorting through the clothes.

“I’ve found some suitable pieces for a semi-formal restaurant, as well as one that would require a more formal dress.” He said as he laid out some clothing Remy hadn’t worn in forever. “Do you know which type of place you’re going to?”

“Let me ask.”

Babe: Sweetheart, what should I be wearing to this lovely date?

Honey <3: Wear something semi-formal! Though I wouldn’t mind seeing you in a suit <3

Babe: A birthday suit?

Honey <3: I wouldn’t be opposed *kissy face emoji*

Feeling his face heat slightly, Remy pocketed his phone before Roman could steal it and attempt to read the messages.

“Em says semi-formal.”

Logan put a few pieces back into the closet, before nodding to Roman. “You’re up.”

Roman dug through the pieces, holding up a shirt here and there. He shook his head on a few pieces, tossing those at Logan. Grumbling, Logan hung them back up and put them back in the closet as Roman continued.

After nearly fifteen minutes, Roman had a full outfit. He pressed it into Remy’s arms, pushing him toward the bathroom. “Go! Put it on!”

In the bathroom, Remy finally got a good look at the outfit. He couldn’t help but smile. Clearly Roman had gotten his sense of style.

He pulled on the gray pants. The black and white striped shirt was next, though he did fumble with the buttons for a second. It was a simple look, but it fit him extremely well. Emile wasn’t going to know what hit him.

Stepping back into the bedroom, Remy did a twirl. “Hmm?”

Logan tilted his head, taking it in. “I believe it would be best to show off your arms. Many people are attracted to tattoos.”

“I’ve definitely seen Emile checking out your arms.” Roman teased, coming over and perfectly rolling up Remy’s sleeves. “Lo?”

“It is as close to perfection as it can get, given that perfection is unattainable.”

With a smile, Remy held his arms out, wrapping them around his boys when they jumped into them. “Thank you for the help.”

“I have one final question.” Roman said, looking up. “What’s for dinner?”

“I don’t think we’ve seen Gerald in a while.”

“YAY!”

After ordering the pizza, Remy headed back into his office to get some work done. He quickly found that he couldn’t concentrate. A certain pair of green eyes continued to float through his mind.

Before he knew it, he realized that he’d completely started a new design. A brain, with the definition lines showing off a question mark in the white space.

“That wasn’t the one you were working on before.” Came a sing-song voice from Remy’s side.

Checking the clock, Remy swore. It was only a few minutes to six.

“I’ll be home late. There’s ice cream in the freezer, do your homework, don’t kill your brother!” He called out as he grabbed his wallet, jacket, and keys before darting out the door.

He pulled up to the Picani’s just as the clock rolled over to six. Calming his breathing as he strode up to the door, he knocked.

Only for the door to open and have Emile knock the breath from his lungs anyway. The pink dress shirt hugged Emile’s small muscles in a delicious way. Not to mention the pants that were showing off his curves.

“You look amazing.” He said, sure that there were stars in his eyes.

Blood rushed to Emile’s cheeks immediately. “Why thank you. You look great as well.”

“Just go already!” Two voices called in unison.

Laughing, Emile shut the front door, following Remy into his car. He slid a hand over the leather seats. “I don’t think I’ve ridden in your car before. It’s nice.”

“A lot nicer than a minivan.” Remy teased, earning a playful glare from Emile. “I kid, I kid. The van is way easier for when we all go somewhere. Now, where is this restaurant?”

“It’s near the aquarium, so we can park in their lot and walk.”

Emile refused to tell Remy anything else about the restaurant. Instead, they chatted about how their kids were doing in school.

“Patton has been doing so much better, thanks to Roman.” Emile was saying as they pulled into the lot. “I’m glad he found someone who thinks like he does.”

Pulling the keys out of the ignition, Remy said, “Same with Logan and Virgil.”

The two got out of the car, Remy immediately offering his arm. Emile took it, feeling another blush creep up his neck. “It’s just over here.”

“Wait, we’re going to Lottie’s Boulangerie?”

Upon hearing the concern in Remy’s voice, Emile stopped. “Did you not want to -”

“No, I - I do want to.” Remy glanced back toward the restaurant, taking in the shining lights that were going to make Emile look positively radiant. “I just...it’s a little on the expensive side and -”

“Rem, I’m paying for dinner.” Emile’s tone of voice told him there would be no argument. “You can pay for the aquarium tickets.”

“But -”

Tugging on Remy to spin him around, Emile slid his arm up to wrap around his neck. When he heard the sharp intake of breath from the other man, he bit back a smile. “I’m paying for dinner.”

“O-okay.”

Emile immediately let go and started walking, trying not to laugh when he heard Remy scrambling to catch up.

Dinner went swimmingly. The two of them loved their dishes, and their waiter was as polite as can be. Emile snagged the check before Remy could see it, leaving behind a generous tip.

Before long, the two of them were entering the aquarium.

“Wow.” Emile breathed as they entered.

Remy felt his heart swell as he watched Emile look around. He’d purposely picked a day of Aquarium After Dark, so that they could be a little more alone. It was an adult only night, ensuring that they wouldn’t be bothered by any screeching toddlers or crying babies.

“What do you think?”

“It’s so much prettier lit up at night.”

Remy paid for their tickets, noting that they weren’t nearly as expensive as their dinner was. But Emile had insisted on paying, and he wasn’t exactly rolling in funds, so he pushed it to the back of his mind.

The two of them strolled through the different areas, taking everything in at their own pace. Emile had squealed when they found the ‘Finding Nemo’ tank, filled with all the fish that could feasibly live together.

“Look, it’s Dory!” He whisper-shouted, despite the two of them being the only ones in the room.

Remy pointed to a clownfish. “And Nemo and Marlin.”

By the time they reached the tunnel, one of the last areas of the aquarium, the two of them were holding hands. Emile let go to get up close to the glass, watching the sea turtle swim by.

Taking a deep breath, Remy walked up behind him, wrapping his arms around Emile and nuzzling his hair. “How was this for a first date?”

Emile gently turned in his arms, a soft smile on his face. “I’d say it’s one of the best ones I’ve been on.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

Their noses brushed.

Remy leaned in.

Their lips connected.

Emile’s hand moved to thread through the hair at the nape of Remy’s neck. Remy curled his arm around Emile’s waist, dragging him ever closer.

When they parted, they were both red faced and breathing heavier.

“Definitely the best first date.” Emile whispered before leaning in once more.

#romantic remile #platonic moxiety #platonic logince #platonic lamp #sanders sides #sanders sides fic #virgil sanders #patton sanders #roman sanders #logan sanders #emile picani #ts sleep #remy sanders

86 notes · View notes

spacegaywritings · 5 years ago

Text

Drunk Kitchen - Chapter 2 “More than Words” (final)

Summary: Emile gets up and takes care of his beloved partners. Remy is hungover and Virgil just loves to snuggle them all. Aka onesie fluff.

Tags: mentions of medication, being hungover, bad mornings, ow ow bodies, nonsexual nudity, being bad at identifying feelings, tears, smol angst for maximum comfort, hurt/comfort, goth remy, pastel Virgil, muscular Emile, migraines, LOTS OF CUDDLES, super much lovs!! happy OT3

The morning eventually rolled around, slowly and surely moving like an overfed house pet. The air was cool yet beautiful with colours and life. The spirit of the weekend was there and the slow-paced wind was in perfect sync with the gradual start into the day. People were done with the week and ready to take things painfully slow and just... relax a bit, live a little and recover from stress and pressure.

Emile was no exception.

He slept in, laying in their bed for much longer than usual and just treating himself to reading a bit. Something in his mind wondered whether he should make up his beloved chaos men but he decided against it in favour of relishing in more silence and granting them a bit more time to recover and consume the sweet relief of sleep.

He eventually got up, his body swinging happily with him as he sung the opening songs of his favourite cartoons shows. His latest favourite of all the literature he possessed inspired him to rewatch Avatar the last airbender again. Maybe he would do that later but first he would order some food and take a looong and nice shower.

After all, the kitchen was unable to provide any place for him to make some pancakes, even if he wanted to. He was honestly horrified at the thought of getting back into that slaughterhouse of dreams and former order. Well, his lovely cryptids deserved some extra sleep so he certainly deserved some take-out food.

The man ordered some breakfast and got into the shower just to get out and dress up in a comfortable onesie for the occasion of a lazy weekend of nothing but self-indulgent care and love for himself and possibly his datemates.

...He would see about that last one.

When Emile poked his head into the living-room, he was just in time for Remy stirring awake, silently and carefully breaking away from their beloved tall bundle of pastel Virgil. The soft giant was sound asleep, chest rising and lowering ever so slowly and gradually while the goth climbed climbed over him, every muscle in his system screaming in pain as he dared to shake his existence to persistently. The movements were so intense and strikingly pain-inducing that he could not help but radiate a great morning energy from anything but a morning person.

The whole room seemed to screech in discomfort as he slid his sunglasses onto the bridge of his nose. Emile greeted him with a little smile as he took the cat tail of his Katra onesie.

“Good Meowning to you!”

The sunshine of Emile welcomed Remy into the world and the small man groaned.

“Ugh.. Oh.. oh holy fuc...”, he mumbled before simply collapsing into his arms.

Emile chuckled, his arms immediately clasping shut around the other.

“Aw, missed me?”, he cooed softly, his head moving to plant a few soothing kisses all over the pained muscles in Remy’s hurting face. Everything was a pain, every little thing was damned in agony for him and it was uncomfortable... a bit like a punishment for anything he did or might do in the future. The slightly taller man gently placed a few open-mouthed smooches onto Remy’s slightly sweaty hair.

“Are you in pain, Ri?”

A groan escaped the other. In the background, the bundle of pastel softness came to life.

Em patted his love.

“Go, get a shower. I will get your pills and something to kill your hangover with”, he promised soft before turning so Virgil could hear him too. “Food is ordered and on the way.”

That got Virgil to react. The tall twig catapulted himself out of the couch, blanket still completing the look of a lost princess disoriented in the middle of a strange world.

“mhw..”

He rubbed his eyes, yawning into his patched-up jacket when the realisation of a new day finally dawned on his internal clock.

Emile giggled, his voice radiating the energy Remy was lacking in his daily pain. He skipped out of the commotion and escaped into the bathroom as suggested. Virgil received the loving morning greeting of the other coming over to peck his sleepy forehead.

“Hello there my little love, did you have fun?”

The tall man pushed himself closer, his body residing in Emile’s patient lap as he pushed his face into his stomach.

“mw”, he argued stubbornly, “missed you..”

Emile pulled him closer, his arms locking around him. It fit like a key into its lock and they neatly got together. He nudged his datemate lovingly, carefully encouraging him to shift and show his face a bit more. The tall man curled in on himself and hugged his love closer and just melt in his lap, letting the heat seep into his pores. The warmth eased him into a small puddle of affection and adoration. His heart was beating in blood and love for Emile and Remy and he carefully wiggled closer in his little blanket burrito and mess of his overly big jacket.

“Awww”, the smaller man cooed soothingly as he brushed through his hair.

“I ordered food for all of us” Emile gently patted his love’s face with tender patience. “Do you want to get ready together with me?”

Virgil nodded into Emile’s lean stomach and hugged him closer, nearly tipping him over and making him collapse over the laying form. Emile swayed a bit, his body staggering from side to side just enough for him to somewhat regain his balance. His hands quickly caught himself on his knees and he leaned further over Virgil, his back arching.

The smaller man giggled. It sounded like ringing bells and jingling joy. Virgil could not help but smile at this. His arms wrung around Emile and gently tugged him down, just a bit, just .. just enough to signify his intention.

He wanted his Emile.. He wanted the man to carry him and just cuddle close to him so he could be in his sleepy haze for a little longer, just for a bit more. The wakeful one nodded sagely, a knowing smile on his genuine lips. His lips were curved into the usual expression of eternal love and unconditional admiration for him.

A nod and another shift and Virgil was moved into his toned arms. The blanket burrito of roses and pastels wiggled and snuggled closer to his love and only allowed himself to rest his case when he was smugly pressed against his love, fitting into his arms as if they were figures made for it, made to be together. The only one missing was Remy, this time.

“Perfect”, Virgil reviewed with a soft little smile on his face. He looked like a smug, tiny bird with all the happiness and little corns in his life. “Great arms, good grip. 12/10, would recommend.”

Emile shook his head.

“Don’t you mean purrfect~”, he started with a sly smile and Virgil was already rolling his eyes with the half-annoyed and half-amused grin plastering all over his features. Emile placed Virgil on their bed and took his cat tail, carefully pointing it at Virgil and retreating it when he showcased the feline trait of his costume.

It aligned with his horrible joke, especially when he actually let out a “meow” at the hungover datemate of his.

“You’ve got to be kidding me-”

Emile threw a bundle of fluff at Virgil, effectively emphasising his response when he spoke up against Virgil, his glasses doing the anime blink thing when he took the golden opportunity that had come to him.

“Do you mean kitten~”

He had the chance, he had the words AND HE TOOK IT! Emile Picani made another pun, made a combo and absolutely destroyed his talking partner from the drunk party. The man got it all, he made a double pun - in close succession! He rocked the field of communication and took the lead in all the puns!

“Are you guys really doing this right now?”

Remy leaned against the door frame, coolly glancing over his two datemates. Finally they were together in one room. As always, their “fourth” partner was with them: Remy’s loyal and faithful shades. The sunglasses rested on his face, covering the most useless part of his bare appearance.

It was such a him thing to just show up without anything but it was also a foolishness on Emile’s part to forget about clothes. Remy would never think that far in the morning. Especially not after a day like yesterday.

Virgil did not seem to mind too much, despite the bright blush adorning his features. He poorly attempted at hiding his face in the piece of clothing Emile just threw him but there was only so much looking he could do without revealing his face to a certain extend. When his fingers brushed against the fabric, his attention was shifted to this sensation rather than staring into their datemate and his.. his whole precious self.

He swallowed.

“Ri, look at you! The shower really did a number on you! You look stunning~”

Emile swayed his hips from side to side, hums accompanying his movements as he worked into the closet further, his hands fishing for something in particular. They had a strive in purpose, they had a mission. Remy scoffed but moved into the room, simply letting his body fall into the softness of their big fat bed. The mattress was the softness of a cloud when kids would imagine touching it and it gently hugged him with welcoming warmth as soon as his body connected to the velvet covers.

He fell with a soft thud, the mattress absorbing the impact of his fall as much as the sounds emitted on any other surface he could have possibly crashed his body into. It was Remy, a tired, decaffeinated Remy at that. Honestly, they were all sort of glad the man was walking and alive instead of just vegetating through life, cuddled up on a couch and pretending to care about the effort people put into this strangely popular activity of “not-dying”.

Virgil immediately took the chance to move his legs over him as he dramatically let himself sink into the mattress with his back. Shifting from side to the back of his body was a true chore, given he only did it to gift Ri with the comfort of his twig-like legs on him.

The man beneath him groaned in response but never even lifted as much as a finger to really put a stop to the whole affair. Other than this, he was contently dozing in his truly vegetative state.

The man was just vibin’.

Not for too long, though, as Emile determined. The last of the trio climbed onto the bed with them and quickly cuddled up next to Virgil, stealing just enough of his partially abandoned blanket to cover himself a bit. A bit of rose was now resting on the back of Remy’s head who simply breathed it off.

He, truly and honestly, had no more fucks to give. Well, other than reaching for his lovely datemates and actually pulling his glorious ass back into the game with his wonderful biceps flexing so deliciously for the two cuddly beans to watch. Virgil dove back under the covers only for Remy to slide underneath them as well and join his partners by pressing his precious chonky self right between the two.

There wqas not space. There was nothing but love and onesies in the bed as the Emile smacked a bit of fabric from his hand into Remy’s lap.

Virgil was still quietly struggling to unwrap the one he had been given before. Considering all the distractions he had to put up with, he was to be excused - by all means. His gay heart and dummy soft baby mind was just too easily molten away and the tender heat coming from his too attractively forbidden and kindly loving datemates had his last braincells yield to the desperate queer screeches of the rainbow cotton mass that filled out the inside of his skull.

There was no brain, only gay. No logic, only gay fucking panic in this house.

Virgil stabbed his fingers into the colourful fabric in his hands. This was a mess of dark colours and abandoned Christmas celebrations. Emile literally gave him a Jack Skellington onesie.

While he was busy blowing raspberries on his tongue to spite Em, he climbed into the oddness of this soft, fluffy mess.He would not complain about this.. it was warm and if anyone every needed to bribe Virgil, heat was about the thing to use in order to tempt him into doing something for them in return. Remy was clever to get him into cuddles before asking him to do chores or get him things.

Aforementioned hungover man accepted his fate and crawled into the pinkass bitch fucking unicorn onesie sitting on his lap.

“Fuck, Em, are you serious”, Remy groaned.

He threw his head back, effectively resting the back of it against the shoulders of his beloved beans. They were both an embarrassing amount taller than his own dummy thicc ass. He was stuck between those lively, bright personalities. What a chore. There was a pink unicorn onesie in his lap.. it was just being there, being pink, doing its thing and just vibin while he closed his eyes and wished for them to somewhat be joking about it. He could not deal with so much positivity and softness in the morning.

It was way too much nice feelings and pink and so much .. ugh. Not to be a bitch to Virgil.

He scoffed again, his sounds trying to communicate his feelings and make the point his mind was too tired and pained to string together using words.

“Come on, Ri, join us~”

Virgil chuckled, his shoulder moving to nudge their datemate ever so softly.

“Imma just pretend to peer pressure you along with Em”

He was finally fully dressed in his own share of soft onesie, though he was nothing compared to a pink fluffy unicorn.

Remy’s eyes fluttered open, his lips rolling together as he pressed them together. They split just for a bit, only enough to allow a few silent grumbles to leave his mouth.

“Will you leave me alone if I get into it?”

Silence.

Emile blinked, puppy dog eyes strong behind his huge glasses. Similarly, the tallest of the throuple poked his fingers into Remy’s sides and snickered just a slightest bit.

Apparently, it was only enough to make the smallest of them sigh dramatically, loudly and tragically. He forcefully sunk his own body deeper into the mattress as if to actively try and disappear into it. After remaining in this position for a while longer, two pairs of eyes softly glancing at him as if to coax him out of his hiding spot, he actually moved his arms to pull the the fabric over his legs and up to his body.

A few moments later, he straightened himself underneath the furry coat and snuggled into the little coffin of soft and velvety feelings.

He sighed.

This was much better than originally anticipated.

He kept laying there, just laid there doing nothing and soaking in the surprising heat that came with wearing this weirdly synthetic fabric around him. His whole body was wrapped up in some kind of plastic polyester tube of pure and utter heat. It felt like hell but in the most comfortable and cozy manner he had every experienced.

Remy cuddled up to his love, a gruff sound rumbling from his throat as he snuggled closer to his loves. His body slowly turned so he could spoon their lovely Emile, simply embracing him. The latter did not mind and gently wrapped his arms and legs around Remy in a similar fashion as Virgil snuggled up to Remy’s side and buried his curiously pink hair in the comforting intimacy of Remy’s neck.

The closeness resulting from this position increased the warmth. Everyone was cozied up in the heat of their own intensely isolated bodies due to the persistently caring onesies.

And Remy was such a pretty unicorn.

“I hate it”, he commented sourly.

Emile pressed a little kiss to his throbbing temples.

“You do nooooot, though”, he corrected him patiently, his voice dipping into the soft sound he usually used whenever he got extremely affectionate with his partners.

They collectively decided to close their eyes. For now, it was time to just be, to just .. exist together and soak up the presence of the others around him.

“You guys are ridiculous”, Virgil butted in with his accurate and absolutely helpful comments.

Remy grunted mutely.

“Vi, Vi, Viiii”, Em exclaimed in sudden excitement. The sudden upsurge of emotions swinging his feelings upwards and skyrocketing him up into the sky. “Virgil, look.”

He inhaled intensely, his lungs sucking up the oxygen around him wetly. Emile placed another soft kiss onto his forehead before whispering to his Virgil, neck craned just enough to very much talk over Remy. Quite literally even so.

“Virgil, he loves us so much, he got all red and adorable!!!”

Virgil giggled.

The words their partner spoke were so excited and stressed, they all could hear the exclamation marks and the emotional extra enforcement of words.

Remy shook his head, stubbornly. His body sank deeper into the mattress as he simultaneously yet uselessly so tried backing up only to dive his back deeper into Virgil’s warm and immensely soft arms. Being sandwiched between the pastel giant and a whole arm of muscular Emile, Remy found himself to be in a spot that could only be described as pure heaven. He was right between one cloud of silky warmth and one equally as velvety blanket-like one.

The tiny chonk of a hurting bitch was relaxing on cloud nine, trapped in the lovely affection that made his stoned heart melt and cave with every word they spoke, if they even spoke. Hell, even simple sounds or looks could send him into a session of gay sighs and intensely queer feelings. His pinkycorn hoe-self snuggled back up between them, finally succumbing to just how much he enjoyed the contact, being flanked by the two equally disastrous tall queers. It was a whole festival of rainbow-colours and intensely soft feelings.

They remained in position for the time being. Everyone relished in the affection they received and gave to each other. This was heaven, this was paradise.

Eternal happiness should be nothing more but hungover cuddles together with the dearest people you had in life.

Despite being a grumpy shit, Remy felt his migraines fade to a somewhat manageable level. Sickness was less of an issue by now and he was dozing off again due to the sheer comfort that led him to believe pain was an illusion. He was floating in the bubble of isolating himself from the outside world. He was up above the troubles of earthly life, of any connections to the physical realm.

Remy was lighter than a feather. He was flying, flying. Up above, sinking slowly, dipping down and landing blindly yet carefully.

When the wings of sleep graced his head and caressed his cheek, he was ready to take a little nap, he braced himself for the comfort and healing effects of a good old powernap in the middle of the day because life sucks and migraines suck even harder but painfully so.

Instead, the fucking doorbell STARTED GOING OFF-

A sudden ring shook them out of their sleepy trance. Virgil flinched into his defensive stance, pulling Remy close to his chest - hell, he would put him into his ribcage if he could. Emile basically vibrated for a moment before also cuddling closer to Remy. Essentially, everyone grabbed a bit of soft unicorn and made sure to protect the endangered species that was a grumpy Remycorn.

Emile was the first to snap out of it, his love for his precious partners quickly melting his frozen state. Within a few minutes, he got onto his feet and quickly made his way across the room, announcing “Food!!!” in a somewhat loud-ish yet rather moderate volume. All things considered, Remy was probably still suffering from a migraine and Emile did not want to make it worse.

Virgil made sure to curl around their smallest datemate while Emile took the social high road and actually interacted with the nice person who delivered food on the weekend. It was noon but they still delivered food!

He was soon back with two whole bags of food. Virgil was not sure but it looked as if they were softly steaming just a slightest bit. Remy certainly could not tell from the point of view of a man who saw the world through the tinted glasses of his protective shades. But when Emile passed by with the food, he did not stop to return to the bedroom, he moved on. He continued walking instead of bringing the food over.

Remy sent Virgil a quizzical look akin to a glare more than anything. A hungover dude just wanted some fucking food and it smelled like a lethal level of spices for his upset stomach and bitchy body. It was absolutely perfect! But now, for some reason, Emile was taking the idea of sustenance away from him and Remy would not tolerate it, so he committed himself to mentally - yes, telepathically, if you want to be brave - converse with Virgil.

Somehow, he needed to convey just how upset he was. One of his datemates was to do his what he was unable to do, physically.

“Virgil, Virgil”, his mind alerted the taller one, “Emile got the food, he took the food and ran off!”

Remy was clearly pouting at this point. The combination of his chronic pain and the aftermath of drinking left him in an emotionally special state, not to speak about his physical vulnerability. Even the smallest amounts of movements could be torture to him, depending on how intense his episodes of migraines were.

Virgil knew. He was patient and considerate as always and nodded, snuggling their datemate close and mumbling silent yet actual words in response.

“ ‘s okay. ‘M can go ‘n get ‘t”, he suggested softly, his voice so soft it could barely be heard. It might have been just above a whisper but considering he was so close to Remy, his back and the tall man’s chest pressed together, it was as if he was speaking for him, into him only.

The smaller man hugged himself when the other started moving away. A great source of heat removed itself from him and it got cold within his body but also outside of it fast. A soft whine escaped his mouth.

... No, that did n o t happen.

“Shut up, Virgil”, he thought at the other who compliantly gave him a kiss to his temples before getting off the bed.

It happened so fast, maybe nothing but a few seconds passed. The world was still spinning for Remy. He never wanted to get up again. At least for the time being, at least for today. His whole world was moving at an incredible speed and it did not stop and everything was so much. Now even his datemates left and there was no food to absorb the absurd amounts of alcohol he had ingested the day before like the dummy thicc thirsty bitch he was.

He felt awful. The world was heavy and sensing it was hurtful and so much of a chore to him, it felt unnaturally exhaustive. Now he was upset. The feeling of somewhat being abandoned struck him, slowly creeping into his skull. He was the small pupper left outside the store for a quick stop but then never to be picked up by their original owners.

Maybe it was just stupid hormones, but he hugged the blanket close to him. It was his little saving grace, his comfort. It did not leave him. It could not even go as far as to think about it because it was a stupid piece of fabric without conscious. He buried his face in the softness, waiting for the comfort of its feeling on his skin to hit him and slay the bad feelings within him.

Remy felt the surge of negativity take over, the devastation within him fizzy like hot chilli burning him from within and hurting him endlessly. It bubbled up, came so close to his heart while he clung to the fabric, his little lifeline of stability. It was all ready to collapse like an old abandoned building, like him.

“Ri?”, a voice asked, soft like an angel.

A hand carefully placed itself right next to him yet did not dare to directly touch him as if he was about to collapse, as if he was so fragile, this little bit of touch would simply destroy him completely.

“Riri, we are back with plates~”

Another voice, more gruff but just as dampened to a comfortable volume. The voices wrapped around his mind and coaxed him into disconnecting his own, damp face from the furry soft blanket.

“Oh, love, does it hurt that much?”

Remy blinked slowly, the sunglasses carefully slipping down his nose from the wetness his tears had caused. Small little droplets of salty rivers drew despair over his features and left sad, lifeless imprints on his face. The shades were trusty and loyal as always, trying to hide the extreme reaction from the others.

His head slowly moved to shake itself in order to indicate disapprovement. Just a moment before he started the movement, he stopped and sat up. Virgil and Remy put the food and others onto the nearby shelf - instead of clothing, it would now hold some meals as well. The two synchronically climbed back into the bed and slid into place by Remy’s sides, Virgil back on his right while Emile joined him from his left side, arms opened.

“ ‘t’s m’kay”, Virgil softly assured, One of his hands brushed through Remy’s hair, barely as much as touching more than the tips of his strands only. The dark bundle was a messy piece of chaos, still a bit damp yet soft and light to the touch.

Emile let his hand add up, his fingers right next to Remy’s face.

“You don’t have to say it. We can be there for you, still. We always will be here if you want to let us in - if you can, love.”

His words softly pressed into his heart. The paws of his intonations gently caressed his chest, massaging into it and easing the tension within him. It was like receiving love from a cat.

Remy shrugged, his nose drawing in a sharp breath.

“F-feelings”, he sniffled.

He took another shaky breath, this time breathing through his mouth to make sure he actually got something other than some half-sniffling attempts at breathing in a miserable amount of oxygen.

Virgil scoffed.

“ Fuck ‘em”, he advised as his hand carefully sunk just a tad deeper into his hair. Rhythmically stroking through the little mess, he patiently hummed, his eyes softly taking in his hidden face.

Emile clicked his tongue. They all knew he did not exactly agree but he sensed the mood enough to not start a lecture at the moment, especially knowing their datemate and his issues well enough.

“What do you want right now? If you know what it is, would you perhaps share it with us, so we can help you?”

The question settled in his face, pulling at his features and straining him further. It pulled the sadness away and his focus back on the issue Emile has brought up. Well, what did he want?

The smaller man inhaled deeply, his eyes closing automatically as he focused. His hands blindly got up, making Virgil retreat his hand out of respect. Remy simply lifted his shades to rub the wetness and salt away from his hot and swollen orbs. They were probably all red like strawberries and puffed up like popped corn.

“Ca-”, he started, his voice leaving him.

He cleared his throat and tried it once more.

“Can we hug..?”

The words were rough like sandpaper and listening sort of hurt in his datemates’ ears and hearts. It was the sort of tickling that got too much, too violent and uncomfortable to the point it sort of hurt because the touch receptors were overloaded and would react in irritation. All in all, he was so quiet, Virgil barely heard him and he was leaned in close enough to smell the scented shampoo used on his hair. It reminded him of energy drinks, ginger and cedar - one of these “manly” scents of hygiene articles.

Nevertheless, his point came across. Whether it was him pushing his shades away to reveal his tortured and upset eyes or his words, maybe even the fact he opened his arms so clearly, he definitely invited the two to snuggled up to him or even tower over him and sandwich him as before. The two took the hint and his datemates were quick to follow suit and fit right by his broad shoulders.

“Dunno, Ri, ya think we can?”, Virgil softly teased. His mumbles flooded his hair roots as he nudged the tip of his nose against his head’s side. These actions reminded him of a cat bonking their had together with the one of the person they wanted to express affection for. It magically brought a little twitch of a smile to his face after all.

Maybe it worked.

He nodded and turned his face to press a little peck to Virgil’s prominent cheekbones.

Emile carefully tugged them back down and tickled his skin with butterfly kisses around his exposed collar bone.

“We will always be here for you”, he repeated ever so gently, “if you just let us know, we will always try and make sure to help you and be here for anything you need.”

A little shake rocked Remy’s body. He willingly sunk down with them and pulled his arms around them to pull his two loves to his chest.

“It hurts sometimes”, he explained, “but it never ceases to beat for you”

Virgil giggled against the beating cavity.

“Sap, you”, another round of chuckles interrupted his silent words, “ya soft, soft sap.”

Emile snuggled closer to him, one of his hands resting on Remy’s stomach while the other one hugged him.

Surprisingly enough, Remy’s body decided to speak for them all. His tummy grumbled subtly. Faint in sound and strong in movement, the datemates felt the sudden surge of vibrations, causing Emile to giggle this time.

“Would you bear with me getting our food from here?”

Remy’s arms loosened their grip on the two. Emile slipped away once more and Virgil pushed a pillow into the smaller individual’s direction to help him get his head up.

“Bitch beast ‘s gon’a be fed”

His statement painted another breeze of amusement over Remy’s face. This time a more persistent smile rested on his features. He took another breath, a free and freer one.

“Vi, this is not how nicknames work, I believe”

He handed him a bowl and cutlery before setting down a bit on the little man in the middle.

“That okay”, he asked carefully, his voice edging on tapping around in the dark. Every step was measured and doubted or calculated at the very least.

Remy nodded and patted his side.

“Come back, you silly bitch”

The inviting smile got Emile to sit down with them once more despite the offensive-sounding words. An approving sound came off him and he awarded his love with a kiss to his nose.

“You two are great. You are just amazing. Em, V, I love you.”

The latter snorted, a part of him looking indignant.

“Ya fuck’n better!”

Remy joined with another giggle, Emile got the heart to do the same.

“I love you too, darling”

The smaller one rolled his eyes before closing them again. He had to pay a price for straining his eyes that much.

Virgil sighed dramatically as he crashed back down into the mattress.

“ ‘kay, fuck. ‘M lovya guys too.”

They cuddled, up, starting to share some food and feeding one another harmonically. Virgil and Remy warmed up to the day and shared stories of their previous adventures along with the food. There was an honourable mention about the Legendary Oil Fight which Emile accepted with many nods and stimming hands. He himself revealed some more information about his experience of the previous night and the three partners enjoyed the contrast between their deeds and feelings which happened at the same time yet were so starkly in differences.

After they had eaten, they snuggled more and soon reverted to a calm state of dozing more than being awake.

“Hey”, Emile verbally nudged them into a more wakeful state. “You know you two will clean the kitchen after you feel better.”

“Ugh, Eeeeem”, Virgil groaned. Remy snickered wildly. “He is such a bad bitch.”

“Listen, you two, next time we go and fight the oil monster together and then we will all clean up the battlefield afterwards.”

Virgil and Remy exchanged a look.

...

“Deal.”

Emile smiled, warmth consuming his heart and he adjusted the blanket and allowed himself to press more against Virgil who was next to him after they had switched places a bit.

“Alright, you wild ones. Deal.” He giggled. “I will drink you under the table and right into the gutter, you weaklings~”

They all giggled, the sounds mingling and intertwining like their cuddly limbs and sensitive hearts. Soon enough, the three were asleep again, only having each other in their minds and on their tongues.

Together, they were just so much ....

Better.

♥

23 notes · View notes