#the whole scene towards the end was so AAAAHHHH

[whowantsnachos]

two episodes in and already very in love with rio vidal

[huffledor-able541]

I...no words yet😭 I need a minute😭😭😭

I had jump scares in the beginning every time Vecna just popped in through each of the Reader's memories. Oh my, and how Vickie told the Reader to take advantage of the help she never got...😭 that's so sad and aaah, Vickie warding him off a whole year? Girl😭

And the Reader seeing Vickie in the rightside up is like "I see dead people," in The Sixth Sense (1999) movie...that was just a random thought😅

♡

Reader being bold bold during that shower stall scene and Steve being a gentleman 😂

♡

I love how the Reader's friendships. Argyle and Nancy comforting us like that 😭

Eddie though😭 Like, it's frustrating but also understandable. He went through that and is furious at Vecna but doesn't realize how much his reactions are affecting the Reader. It's okay though, we forgive you.

♡

The whole loneliness thing and knowing people are talking about you and the plan really is bothersome 😭

♡

STEVE! The way he was dead tired but still wanted to stay up with the Reader. That actually is a great plan though. 😂 Have the book over him and then just PLUNK on him when and if she falls asleep.

BUT THEN THE END OF THIS CHAPTER!??!?!?!? AAAAAH!!! LIKE, WE KNEW THEY WERE BOTH IN LOVE WITH EACH OTHER BUT THE WAY IT ALL PLAYED OUT AODKSFKWJFBEG9WN BEAUTIFUL!!! DESIRABLE!!! *chef's kiss* 👩‍🍳🤌

Steve's little speech 😭:

"I'm trying to be brave here," he stepped toward you painfully slow the creek of boots against linoleum. "But it's hard when I don't know if I can keep you safe, and that scares me because I love you, and I'm not letting you go that easily."

AAAAAH SWOOOOOON!!!😭😭😭💖💖💖

When Reader said, "I-I know" to Steve's "I said I'm in love with you," I was like STAR WARS!?!? HAN AND LEIA!?!?!😭💖 AAAAHHHH!!!😭😭😭😭😭

BEAUTIFUL BEAUTIFUL CHAPTER!!!😭💖

Wildfire • Combustion

You're in trouble. When Vecna sinks he's claws into you, your friends rally around you to help exorcise your demons.

Pairing: Steve Harrington x Reader

Chapter Wordcount: 10,887

Warnings: This chapter contains smut. Minor DNI. • enemies/rivals to lovers, second chance romance, slowburn, unrequited love, so much pining, blood, gore, character death, best friend!disabled!Eddie Munson, character injuries, trauma, PTSD, hallucinations, drowning, concussion, hurt/comfort, fire, panic attacks, insomnia

Fic Masterlist • Navigation • Masterlist

Chapter Five: Searing • Chapter Seven: Inferno

---

The sun hit the front window and bounced off bright orange, drowning your front yard in an amber glow. It was hot, and your shirt stuck to your skin with summer sweat. The yard was littered in toys, a tractor sprinkler, double bicycles with baskets and tassels on the handlebars. Chalk was strewn across the sidewalk, hopscotch traced in stark whites. Gravel crunched in the drive beneath your feet. 

Your mom called your name from the front door, asked if Vickie was staying for dinner. The girl beside you confirmed with a thumbs up and a wave, limbs longer than she was tall. She grinned at you, two front teeth missing, red hair pulled back into braids. She elbowed at your waist. “Can I stay with you forever?” 

You smiled, excited at the prospect of your best friend moving in, hauling her little rubber suitcase full of dolls and horsies down the road to your house and unloading on your bedroom floor. You would share peanut butter and jelly sandwiches every day for the rest of your lives. 

“Till death do you part, right?” A deep voice came from behind you, a chill of breath to the back of your neck. 

You spun and found no one, just a chill on the breeze, the landscape faded to harsh blues and burgundies, everything covered in black ichor and vines. 

Vickie called your name, and when you turned again to face her, she was writhing in agony, skin melting from the bones of her cheeks, collarbone exposed. She reached out, mouth agape, flames that engulfed her the same color as her shock of red hair. Her eyes were pale blue, clouded.

You slammed your eyes closed, and the heat of her was wiped away in an instant. Instead, you were pushed and prodded toward a closed window. A crowd of strangers filed outside around you, staring up at a cloud-filled sky. Particles of grey and white snowed down on the parking lot of the high school gym.

“Is that snow?”

“I think it’s ash.” 

“Like Mount Vesuvius?”

“I didn’t even know Hawkins was on a fault line.”

You looked around for a familiar face, panic crawling up your chest.

Vickie stood an arm’s length away, and you rushed to her side, tugging on her sleeve. “We need to get out of here.” 

“Steve!” A kid with curly hair limped over to the couple posted up beside your best friend. You noticed Vickie was watching a freckled blonde girl exchange concerned looks with the handsome brunette beside her.

“We’ve got to get out of here,” the handsome man copycatted you, tugging on the arm of the blonde girl beside him. 

“Robin, where are you guys going?” Vickie asked, taking the girl’s other hand in her own. A bloom of jealousy radiated through you, of interest, while the panic rose higher behind your sternum. 

Robin made eyes with the two boys beside her, an unspoken conversation between them. 

“Do you know what’s going on?” Vickie prodded, stepping into their little circle to face her friend. 

Once again, the girl made eyes at the boy beside her, and you watched him roll his eyes before grabbing the younger boy and leading him out the door. 

“Come on,” Robin gripped Vickie’s hand tighter and yanked her out across the lot after them. 

“Wait, Vic!” You chased after your best friend, and this crew she’d acquired in the last hour or so since you left her at the sandwich counter. “Where are you going?” 

You all halted at a burgundy BMW, and the driver held a hand up to stop you from joining. He was taller than you, broader, but couldn’t be any older, and something about his air of authority had you prickling.

“This is my best friend,” Vickie introduced, climbing into the car beside Robin. 

The boy ran a hand down his face and opened the back door for you. “Get in.”

You did as instructed, but yanked the door from his grasp to slam it, satisfied at the look of frustration across his pretty boy features. 

“I’m Robin,” the freckled girl reached across Vickie to introduce herself, and you shook her hand before eyeing your best friend. Vickie’s face had nearly turned violet in embarrassment. “This is Steve and Dustin.” 

Steve didn’t have the capacity to greet you properly as he peeled out of his parking spot and sped away from the growing crowd. 

You hung onto the headrest to stop from slamming into your friend beside you, and grit your teeth. “Great, can someone please tell me where we’re going?” 

Dustin turned to face you, black ichor spilling from between braced teeth in a menacing grimace. His eyes were a pale, cloudy blue. “Didn’t you know? This is the road to Hell.” 

The landscape around you flickered in greyscale. The crowd disappeared and was replaced by rotting buildings, fallen trees, a city on fire.

Your heart pounded in your chest, the flower-faced panic monster rearing its ugly head, clawed its way through your esophagus, breathing fire and sputtering blood, and you choked on your scream. “Vickie!” 

You climbed the final hill in front of her childhood home. The pale yellow facade had peeling paint, fire having ripped through it months earlier. You were out of breath, had been chasing her for hours according to the watch on your wrist. Sweat clung to the base of your skull, and the straps of your flamethrower pinched at the skin of your shoulders. You cried out for your best friend again. 

Something loud banged on the other side of the garage door, startling you, and you swung your weapon that direction. The door shook on its rails , hinges rattling violently. You sidestepped to see the side door, ready to fire when Vickie appeared in the side yard. 

“Listen!” She called out, waving her arms over her head.

“To what?” You frowned. “Where the Hell have you been?” 

“Bonnie Tyler,” she pointed upward. She seemed rushed, crossing the yard to peel part of the chain link from the fence to block the garage side door. She hummed the tune as she worked, and you took a few steps closer to her before you heard it. 

It was a little distorted, tune a little wonky, a little muted. You looked around for a cassette player, wondered if the car was playing it in the garage. 

“It’s Steve. He’s trying to pull you out of this, and it’s getting harder to fight Vecna off, so I’m going to need you to snap out of it and wake the Hell up.” Vickie stated, irritated as she grabbed a patio chair and dragged it to the door. 

The garage shook again, a pound to the door that had the entire building trembling on its foundations. That spot behind your shoulder blade tickled, a chill down your spine, and the pieces all fell into place. 

“Look,” Vickie pointed to the skyline above the woods, and when you turned, you saw a split in the clouds. Greyscale had poured pale yellow onto the canvas and you were watching yourself, catatonic and limp in the arms of Steve Harrington. Large hands were pressed to your cheeks, wrapped around your waist, his body pressed to yours, warm and hard, and there was panic in his eyes as he shouted words you couldn’t hear over the music. Hopper and Owens stood nearby. Several soldiers and Eddie were behind them. 

“Now wake up, damnit,” Vickie shook your shoulder, shoved you their direction. You stumbled two steps. 

“Wait,” you halted and grabbed her wrist, tiny, pulse warm in your hand. “Not without you.” 

“Yes, without me!” Her body was against the door now, the building rattling at her back. “I’ve spent a year holding him back, I can handle him for a little bit longer.” 

You shook your head, the music growing louder against your skull, somewhere just behind your ears. “I don’t understand.” You shouted over it. 

“I told you I’d never leave you,” she bit down on her bottom lip, eyes fierce. “I’m sorry he piggybacked, but now you know he’s here, and you have to get him out. You have the help I never got. Take advantage of that.” The door banged harder, and she slipped before regaining her strength. “Go.” 

“What am I supposed to do?” You screamed, the music all-encompassing, rhythm of the knocks on the garage against the beat of the track on loop. 

“He’s weak, but he gains strength in your subconscious when you sleep.” She explained, eyes closed in her attempt to keep him out. “Destroy the Ether. I think he - oof -” A particularly large hit sent her flying, and you took her place, holding the handle closed tight as it turned in your hand. 

She stood, knees bloodied, and took it from your hands. “Go! I can’t hold him much longer.” She shoved you back in the direction of the clouds. 

You felt conflicted, rooted to the spot as you watched your best friend struggle.

She made eye contact with you, eyes blurred with tears, and she grit her teeth before she screamed, “GO!” Her visage flashed fiery red, a ghost of her former self, the screaming face of a loved one charred and burned.

You reached out for her before you felt yourself thrust off your feet, yanked backwards by your spine. The forces around you, the pulsating of music in your skull, the scream that ripped from your chest to mirror her own, caught you spiraling into blackness, falling, falling, falling through a never-ending abyss. Arms and legs flailed, and you gained speed as you neared the bottom, music so loud you could no longer make out the words, and then you hit bottom.

Warmth flooded your senses, a stuffy heat that clung the fabric of your clothes to your skin and stifled your lungs which fought to catch a breath. Your eyes flew open to find two big, brown eyes and a crumpled brow. The smell of sweat and steam and cigarette smoke filled your nostrils, and every square inch of you was hyper aware of the hand on your waist, your cheek, the abdomen pressed to your own. 

“Are you here? Are you okay?” Steve’s sweet voice croaked, just under the volume of Bonnie Tyler on overhead speakers, and you crashed into him, burying your face in his throat as reality broke and you realized you were alive, and he was there to keep you safe. 

You felt his arms snake around you while your body wracked with sobs, and lips to your temple as he comforted you with soft hums of reassurance. The sounds of soldiers filing in replaced the music and the ringing in your ears. 

—

The coffee in your cup didn’t stay still long enough to see your reflection. Your hands trembled, or maybe they were jittery, and the glare from the fluorescents stung in your skull like a migraine. You sipped, lukewarm and a bit burnt, and wrapped the blanket tighter around your shoulders. 

“So what? You stay awake forever? This isn’t sustainable,” Steve argued, arms crossed over his chest as he sat propped on the table across from your hospital bed. 

You rolled your eyes and continued to drink.

“No, it isn’t,” Owens agreed, face stuck in the pitying frown you possibly had never seen him without. 

“So we need a solution,” Hopper grumbled. Your nurse pulled his cigarette from between his lips and slipped it back into his pocket before scribbling stats onto her charts. 

“I feel like it’s pretty obvious,” you said, trying to ignore the fear that rocketed through you. “We nuke it all. Ether goes to Hell with me inside.” Destroy the host, destroy the parasite.

“No.” 

“Absolutely not.” Steve and Eddie snapped in unison. Eddie was seated at your bedside, knuckles gripping his walker so hard you thought it might snap.

You closed your eyes, steadied your breath. “I appreciate that you want to protect me, but let’s be realistic here. We don’t have any other plans, and if he latched onto Vickie and then onto me when she died, it seems like I need to take care of this.”

“You’re right,” Nancy said from her seat beside Steve. His jaw ticked, and you avoided his glare. “We don’t have any other plans, but we can’t just nuke the Upside Down.”

“The infrastructure doesn’t support that. We blow the place up, the entire Midwest could crumble into the Earth.” Hopper rubbed at tired eyes.

“We shouldn’t make our plans in front of you,” Eddie grit his teeth, his good leg bouncing. “He can hear and see everything you can. He’s in you, but he’s in all of them too.” 

You could feel them: claws and teeth and bloodlust. A shiver wracked through you, that breath of cold air to the base of your skull.

“He’s right. We can’t risk an ambush walking in there.”

Something firm in Nancy’s voice had your heart pounding, that panic clawing its way up and out. Control was swiftly being removed from your reach, one way or the other. “We don’t know that.”

“That’s what he does,” Eddie’s voice matched Nancy’s. He ran a tired hand down his face. “He listens to you, knows your every thought. He listens to the people you care about the most, and then he hurts them. He makes you hurt them.”

You reached a hand to his, but he recoiled from your grasp. His Adam’s apple bobbed, and you saw fear in those big, brown eyes. Eddie was terrified. You swallowed back the emotion that rose in your chest and replaced your trembling hand to your coffee cup. “If you can’t discuss plans with me in the room, can I be dismissed to my quarters?”

Sighs were exchanged all around you. Owens looked over your vital chart, and you watched him make eyes at Hopper. Hopper scratched the mustache on his upper lip and nodded.

“No leaving the compound, and for now, no sleeping.”

“I’ll go with you,” Steve stood from his lean, arms out to help you off of the hospital bed as a nurse went about unplugging you from the beeping machines.

“Harrington, we’re going to need you and the full Scorch team. Munson, you too.”

“Absolutely not,” Steve gestured your direction. “She wants to nuke the Ether with herself inside it. We can’t trust her to be by herself.” 

His words rang true, but you couldn’t help the sting of betrayal that settled somewhere within you. 

“She won’t be alone.” Hopper said, flashing you a smile that filled your with an equal amount of unease.

—

The steady ba-dunk ba-dunk ba-dunk of a tennis ball against hard wood flooring echoed your heartbeat. Over-caffeinated, the tips of your fingers tingled, and your legs bounced in tandem as you sat cross-legged on the floor.

“Bob Marley, man. One Love.” Argyle slammed the tennis ball against the ground beside you, and it bounced and hit the concrete wall. You caught it on the rebound.

“Solid choice,” you nodded. Your mouth was dry, and the way adrenaline pumped through you felt the exact opposite of Argyle’s chill demeanor in a moment like this. He seemed entirely unbothered by the horrifying aberration attached to your psyche. 

He caught your throw. “Yeah, dude. That’s what it’s all about. We stick together, and he can’t win.”

You glanced up at the man beside you, long hair tucked back beneath a camouflage hat. He’d been dragged from his home, his life, the calm of slinging pizzas, and how he’d maintained the positive look on life, you’d never understand. 

“Did someone call a babysitter?” A voice called from behind you.

“Hey, Buckley, what’s your Vecna song?” Argyle called, tossing the tennis ball in the air a few times.

“Steve Miller Band, Joker, obviously,” Robin responded, shoes clacking against the hard wood upon her approach. You couldn’t face her immediately, catching that bit of flame in your periphery, but eventually she kicked at your knee with her toe, pulling your attention to the sad look in blue eyes. 

“Right on,” Argyle approved of her response. You knew it was a lie.

“You hungry?” Robin asked, extending her hand to help you up. 

With a sigh, you took her grasp and lifted yourself from the ground. Your stomach had growled at the mention of food, unable to keep anything down in the passing days in Quarantine. 

“Wish I could go with you, space cowboys, but I have a Scorch meeting to attend,” Argyle tapped at the watch on his wrist and tossed you the tennis ball. 

You caught the bright green fuzz and squeezed, offering him a wave. “Thanks for watching me.” 

The man crossed to you, enveloping you in a surprise hug, tight and warm. “We’re not going to let anything happen to you, bud.” He muttered into your ear before giving Robin a quick kiss to the forehead and exiting the small court. 

“I don’t need a babysitter,” you finally greeted Robin, adjusting the sweatshirt over your shoulders as you followed Argyle toward the hallway. 

She elbowed your side. “I don’t think you really get a say anymore.” 

You know she was teasing, but you’d been stewing for hours. Your jaw ached from being clenched, and your mind raced with your heartbeat of all the possibilities they could be discussing in their meetings a few floors up. You knew none of them would make the right call. “So I don’t have control over what’s going on in my subconscious, and I’m not allowed to make conscious decisions for myself either? How is that fair, Robin?”

“Sometimes life isn’t fair.” Her tone was ice-cold. The polar opposite of Argyle’s warmth, she stopped you dead in your tracks in the center of a dim hallway.

You half-expected her to grow a long claw, to be a part of this never-ending nightmare, but when you turned to face her, it was just Robin. It was just that beautiful woman that spent two years of her life loving your best friend for you to rip her away. 

“Vickie died for his cause, whether she meant to or not, she didn’t leave us a choice.” She said, fists clenching around the satchel strap across her chest.

Your own hands shook at your sides. 

“So, yes, we have to keep an eye on you, so you don’t run away and do the same thing.”

Light from the adjacent room cast in her soft yellows, the same, sickly pale that clung to the concrete walls of this cold building you’ve called your home for years now. Now it felt like a prison, and Robin a well-dressed guard. 

“Robin…”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

The hurt in her eyes struck you like wind on a crisp day, sucking the air from your lungs. 

“What happens if you die like Vickie, huh? Then Steve gets flayed? Eddie? What was your plan?”

You grit your teeth at the accusations, clenched your fists. “You know I’d never hurt them.” 

“I know,” she snapped, like you’d been the insinuator, “but you have to consider the consequences of hiding this from the world until you burst and Vecna himself comes slithering out in the form of a giant flesh monster.”

Another chill wracked through you, familiar, a buzz at the base of your skull. 

Robin took a few uneasy steps toward you. “Can he hear us?”

You swallowed, shrugged, though a tickle above your earlobe said yes, said absolutely, said speak.

Your friend crossed to you, and for a moment you thought she might avoid you, like Eddie had, but instead, she pressed a warm palm to your cheek. Her other hand reached for your fist at your side. Her blue eyes were fierce, steadfast, terrifying. “We are going to burn him out of you, and he’ll have to watch in agony as his world burns around him.”

Fear hung in her chest at your promise, settled right above the rapid beating of your heart, more fear than you’d ever felt in the Ether, staring down the barrel of a flamethrower at a monster, even in your nightmares.

Robin blinked, laughed back the emotion that threatened to spill. “Sorry, I just really love you, and I don’t want to imagine a world without you in it.”

This time, the emotion bubbled up your esophagus because you weren’t sure if she was talking to you or to Vickie.

She waved it off with another laugh, wiping tears from the corner of her eyes. “Let’s go get lunch in the caf exactly like we used to, in a safe space where I don’t have to be the only one to keep my eyes on you. Sound good?”

You wanted to talk, to tell her Vickie loved her, to apologize again for all that you’d done. The feigned smile on her face told you she was done. You nodded.

“Good.” She linked your arms at the elbows and tugged you in the direction of the caf. 

—

Scalding water cascaded over the aches in your shoulders and back. You’d turned the faucet too high, steam enveloping the ladies’ locker room, but you needed it to hurt. You scrubbed yourself raw, wanting to rid yourself of the sweat and grime that had clung to your flesh in quarantine. You needed to wash it all off of you.

You kept your eyes trained on the cold, white tile ahead of you, on the in-laid shiny chrome knobs. If you closed your eyes, you’d see ice cold landscapes full of vines, you’d see the slam of garage door on its hinges, you’d see the terror and fury in Vickie’s eyes.

You grit your teeth and tipped your head back, allowing the water to pummel your brow, your cheeks, that surge ripping through your stomach, begging for air, but you lingered just a second longer, pushing through the guilt and pain and the need to scream. 

A door slammed, followed by the sound of heavy footfall, and you sputtered, stepping out of the spray to catch your breath.

“Where the Hell have you been!?” Harrington’s voice echoed against tile, his head and shoulders visible above the row of tiled stalls. 

Instinctively, you covered yourself and glanced throughout the room to find yourself alone. “Where does it look like I’ve been, Harrington?” You snapped, turning your back to him to rinse your front. 

“Robin said you’d be in your dorm. I’ve been looking for you for an hour.”

“I was taking some gym time. That okay with you, Warden?” You shot over your shoulder. 

His shoulders rose and fell, and he ran both hands through his hair. It stuck up at odd angles like he’d been doing that all day. His eyes were bloodshot, face already shiny from the steam that enveloped the room. “We were worried you ran off and did something stupid.” 

You scoffed. “Good to know I have your confidence.”

The sound of frustration that escaped him roiled in your stomach, unearthed something deep, something familiar. “That’s not…” 

You glanced over your shoulder again to watch him chew on his words. You couldn’t decide if he was searching for another retort or finding a way to hold it back, and it felt good. You delighted in the competition, in catching his tongue. Your friendship used to be this, a playful back-and-forth. 

“No, I get it, Harrington,” you turned under the water again, feeling the pressure weaken from prolonged use. You gargled water and spit it into the drain at your feet. “I can’t be trusted.”

“I didn’t say that.” He huffed.

“No, really,” you bit back the smirk that was beginning to tug at the corners of your mouth. “You never know when I could do something incredibly…” You slapped off the faucet and stepped out of the stall into the aisle to face him. “Foolish.” 

The end of your word fell from your mouth with a whisper when you caught the look on his face.

Harrington’s jaw tightened, and his eyes darkened, though they stay trained on your face. He stood ten, maybe twenty feet from you, hands to his hips, stance wide, shoulders square. 

Your entire body caught ablaze, cooler air pebbling every inch of you, but you couldn’t cower now, couldn’t shield yourself, exposed and raw in front of him. 

After a prolonged silence, the drip of the faucet against tile floors, he moved. With slow, measured strides, the squeak of rubber soles against wet tile, he closed the distance. 

You sucked in a breath and held it, the warmth of him flooding your senses all at once.

Maintaining eye contact, he reached beside you for your government grade towel, and it wasn’t until he held it out for you to take, did you notice the quick sweep of his eyes along your frame.

Your hands shook receiving the towel and covering your front, hoping to hide the burn in your cheeks with dry terry cloth as you dabbed at droplets on your nose. 

Harrington turned his back to you then, and you watched the red that crawled up his neck and to his ears from the collar of his shirt. “When I couldn’t find you,” he cleared his throat, brought his hands up to scratch at that little row of stitches starting to heal, “I panicked.”

You warmed at his confession, the tidal of an adrenaline rush crashing into something softer, waves along a shoreline. You dried your body and reached for the pile of clean clothes, slowly stepping into them. “I’m sorry,” you mumbled, pulling the drawstring on your pants.

“I don’t want you to feel like you’re in prison,” again, the soft tone to his voice sent a chill through you. 

You pulled a sweatshirt over your head and reached for him, pausing to stare at the back of him for a moment, broad shoulders and shaved neck, hair a mess on top. He seemed taller than you remembered, maybe it was the boots on his feet. Your fingers came into contact with the dip of his tricep, warm under pruned fingertips. 

He turned, and you felt yourself heat again at the quick one-over flick of his eyes before he met your gaze again. The honeyed brown was still dark, that crease in his brow remained, but you perceived the smallest uptick of the corners of his pink lips when he asked, “You hungry?”

—

Loneliness sunk in like a hot blade through butter. You ate dinner surrounded by friends, and you still felt sequestered, miles away. Maybe it was the exchanged looks on their faces, the pitying glances when they thought you weren’t looking or wouldn’t notice. Maybe it was the way they spoke of their shared future when this was all over, the one you weren’t sure you’d be there for. Something sliced right through you and cauterized the wound. 

Even as you climbed the spiral staircase, trailing two steps behind Harrington, the vacuous concrete loomed in ways you’d never experienced until now. The compound felt vast, a labyrinth of memories you’d rather not dwell on lest they be used against you in your subconscious. 

The prospect of stepping into your room and the door closing behind you had your heart racing. So when Steve held his own door open and nodded for you to join him, you didn’t argue. 

His room was warm and tidy and smelled of his aftershave. His sink was void of dishes, the little countertop holding various tubs and tubes of toothpaste and hair product. His bed was unmade, in a way that looked enticing, cozy, a clump of blankets bunched near the foot to expose the indentation of his frame. A few books were stacked on the bedside table near that secret pair of glasses he kept folded beneath a lamp. 

He crossed the room and turned on a little clock radio, shifting through the static until an unfamiliar pop crooner’s voice filled the little space. You wondered if this was a habit he’d always had, or if he thought it’d keep your parasite at bay.

Then, he opened his wardrobe to retrieve a matching sweatshirt to your own, pulling it over his head. He popped from the collar mussy haired and yawning. He caught his yawn in his hand before rubbing at tired eyes. He reached across the bed for his glasses and pushed them up the bridge of his nose, bleary eyed. 

You shifted on the balls of your feet, lingering just inside the threshold. 

He filled up a couple red plastic cups of water, checking the temperature on his hand first. He set them both on the rickety tabletop, gesturing for you to come join him, before he pulled a deck of cards from a nearby drawer full of pens and paper.

“Any - “ He stifled another yawn, shaking it off with a frown. “Sorry. Any good at Slap Jack?”

The circles under his eyes looked darker in this light, accentuating the yellowed bruise on his cheekbone you’d given him nearly a week earlier. His shoulders slumped, and his hair stood on end. He looked ragged, run through. 

You rolled your eyes. “Harrington, go to bed.” 

“What? No. I’m fine,” he shrugged you off, pulling out his seat to dump the deck into one hand. He began to shuffle, and you watched him with crossed arms. “Will you come sit down?” 

“When’s the last time you slept?” You asked, toeing out of your sneakers and leaving them at the door. 

You didn’t like the look he gave you. The last time you’d run into his room in the middle of the night, he was up and reading. That was nearly a month ago. Hairs prickled at the base of your skull.

Caught, he shrugged it off, kept shuffling. “Last night, whenever.” You knew he’d spent last night sneaking in to see you. 

You leaned forward and peeled the cards from his hands, straightening the deck before sliding it back into its box. 

He shot you an irritated look, crossing his arms over his chest.

You challenged his with a look of your own, tossing the cards back to the tabletop. 

Finally, he spoke, voice soft. “I can’t.” 

You swallowed. “Why not?”

He didn’t answer, only traced your frame with big brown eyes. 

Self-conscious, you adjusted your sweatshirt as it fell over your shoulders. The ribbed hems of your sleeves were frayed from use. A big yellow stain splotched the left side of your chest, source unknown and impossible to wash out. Now clean and dry, you were sure you looked only slightly less haggard than the man in front of you. 

“I’ll stay up with you,” he offered, a polite way of saying he was terrified of letting you fall asleep. 

You shook your head. “I won’t fall asleep.” It was a polite way of saying you were terrified too. “Besides, I don’t feel very safe knowing you’re running on fumes.”

You avoided his gaze by looking back around the space, finding some escape, some trick. You spotted the stack of books near his bedside, and crossed the tight space to pull The Shining from the middle of the stack.

Steve grumbled your name, rubbed at tired eyes from beneath the rims of his glasses. 

You lifted his pillow, floppier than your own, and propped it against the radiator he used as a headboard. Holding your breath, you climbed into his space on the bed, folding your legs in front of you and patting your lap. “C’mere.” 

He blinked back at you and didn’t move, sideways in his chair, rooted to the spot. 

You held your book aloft, flipping to a random page. “This book is terrifying. I’ll be too scared to sleep, but if I do…” You feigned sleep, a bit melodramatic, like you were acting a skit to convince a child, and you dropped the book into your lap. “It’ll wake you up.” 

You blinked one eye open to catch the rise and fall of his Adam’s apple. He scratched at the back of his neck. “You want me uh…” He pointed at your lap.

You warmed, wondered what the hell you were thinking, and licked your lips before you nodded. “Sure.” The word came out with a tight breath. 

Again, he didn’t move. He stared at his feet for a moment, as if willing them to pick themselves up, and then with a sigh, he reached to untie the laces of his boots before he stepped out of them. 

Your heart began to race, the steady drum behind your sternum that heated your chest, your throat, your cheeks. 

He stood, and took slow strides toward you, stopping at the foot of the bed. He scratched at his jaw again before mumbling, “Are you sure?” 

You nodded and shifted again, a vain attempt to become more comfortable, more accommodating. 

With a series of loud sighs, he fell to the mattress, the whole thing bouncing under his weight until he managed to crawl and roll his head into your lap. He hesitated to rest the full weight of his head on your thigh, so you placed a stiff hand to his shoulder to encourage him to relax. He was warm and heavy, but not uncomfortably so. 

“Want me to put your glasses up?” You asked, suddenly self-conscious about everything at this angle. 

“Hm? Oh.” He pulled the frames from his nose and folded them, placing them in your outstretched hand. 

You replaced them onto the beside table and adjusted your hips with a mumbled apology. 

Steve was too long for the bed, socked ankles and feet dangling off the far end. He still wore his tactical pants, all straps and pockets and buckles, and the collar of his sweatshirt scrunched up around his jaw. He sat up a little to pull his sweatshirt down and tried to settle to a softer part of your leg.

“Do you need a blanket?” You asked, tugging at the army green fleece. You hated how breathy you sounded, how your voice betrayed you every time. 

He shook his head, crossed his arms over his chest. “I’m okay. Are you sure?”

You snorted, lifted the book high enough to hide your face, and said, “Harrington, go to sleep.” 

“Okay,” his skull rumbled against your thigh. “But if anything happens.” 

“I will happily smack you with this book,” you lifted it higher to glance back down at him. 

His eyes were closed, but the corner of his lips quirked upward. His eye lashes were so long, casting shadows on freckled cheeks, pinched rosy in the heat or embarrassment of your positions. 

You swallowed and flipped the book to the front page, lest he open his eyes again and catch you staring. You pretended to read until his head grew heavy, and the steady rise and fall of his chest came out in near imperceptible snores.

Despite the warmth emanating from him, something deep in the recesses of your mind reminded you how alone you now were. 

The radio remained on beside you, pop songs you’d let fade into the background. The clock told you it was late into the night, and the lack of sounds from the hall exemplified that. You wondered if anyone could hear you call for help.

You closed the book and added it to its stack, glancing around the room for signs it was real, that you were there and you weren’t alone. 

Harrington rolled, cheek to your thigh, breath fanned hot and wet against the soft cloth of your sweatpants. His fists unclenched from beneath his biceps, and he stretched one large hand under your calf. He was real, and he was there. 

He always had been, just as he promised. Late nights nose-to-nose, exchanging secrets and promises and breath had all come to this. He’d kept you as safe as he could, and you did the same. Every time you needed him, he’d appeared with strong arms wrapped around you, brow crumpled in concern.

In the past two years, you were sure you’d only seen him this relaxed, this content, once before. Careful not to wake him, you tucked his hair up and out of his face.

—

Eddie frowned over his white ceramic mug while he slurped.

The morning crowd had since dispersed, leaving the caf in silence, but at your over-caffeinated state, your mind was lost in a cacophony of sounds: the squeak of sneakers against the linoleum, the brush of a flat broom into a pile in the corner, the clang of dishes being washed somewhere in the back, the rattle of screws in the table leg as your leg bounced with reckless abandon. 

Eddie set his mug to the tabletop, the silver rings around his finger tinkling the bottom of the cup.

You wrapped your knuckles against the table, unable to stop moving, too overstimulated, too anxious, too much kinetic energy.

Eddie stared at your knuckles for a moment. You watched his jaw tick.

You shuddered and reached for your lukewarm cup of coffee. 

Eddie snatched it out of your fingers, and it tumbled to the table with a surprising bounce, casting brown liquid across orange tabletop. “Shit, sorry,” he grumbled, and stood to grab a wet rag from a nearby table to clean up the mess. 

“Munson, what the hell, dude?” Harrington stood and swiped coffee from the crotch of his pants. His chair groaned against chipped flooring, snagged on a lifted tile.

You reached out to grab the back before it went teetering to the floor.

“She’s tweaking out!” Eddie gestured to you, juices from the wet rag spattering your cheek. “Reminds me of my old man.” 

“Is that why you won’t even look at me?” You snapped, mopping your face with the sleeve of your sweatshirt. 

“No,” he pointed at you. “I won’t look at you because you’ve got a fucking monster living inside of you, and I’m sorry I can’t coddle you like Harrington does.” 

“Hey!” Harrington argued. You noticed his shoulders started to square in defense, stepping between you.

“No, dude, fuck off. I don’t want to hear it. She doesn’t need you to be her knight and shining armor. It’s not that deep.” Eddie waved him off with the shake of his head, curls falling over slumped shoulders. He gripped his walker and looked directly at you. 

“You can’t seem to understand that your shit affects the people around you too. We can talk once you’ve figured that out.” He pushed off from the table, and you heard the squeak of rubber pads against flooring as he left.

Steve opened his mouth to say something, but you tugged on the elbow of his sweatshirt until he stepped aside. He frowned down at you, obstinate, but you placed a hand to his chest, and he seemed to soften.

“He’s right,” you said.

“Doesn’t mean he has to be an asshole about it.” 

You shrugged, catching a snap of anger at unsuspecting recruits in the hallway. “We’re all on edge.” 

After another long moment, the crash of tin cans sounded, followed by a series of shouted curse words. A trash lid rolled by the caf double doors. You took a deep breath. 

“You’re the only one who understands what he’s gone through,” Steve muttered.

You hoped he felt the animosity in your expression. You hoped he couldn’t sense how your shoulders relaxed when he tugged at the elbow of your own sweatshirt. 

He nodded toward the hallway. “Go talk to Munson. He’s been really shit in the War Room, and I think it’s because he’s worried about you.” 

You groaned, stamped your feet, but slowly let them carry out away from the smell of stale coffee and cleaning chemicals. 

You found him a few floors up. He’d taken the elevator to the offices, and had settled into a rolling chair behind an oversized desk that would have been reception at a busier time. He looked up as you entered, rolled his eyes, and leaned back with arms crossed over his slender chest. 

“Hey,” you crossed your arms over your own chest, a challenge. You stopped a few feet from the desk. You could hear Hopper’s mumble just beyond a dented steel door down the hall. 

“Hello,” Eddie countered. “What do you want?”

“Apparently my shit affects the people around me.”

He didn’t smile at that. Instead, he sighed and adjusted himself on the chair. The gears squeaked under his weight. 

You grit your teeth through any need to keep pushing his buttons and rubbed at exhausted eyes before you took a few steps forward to the front panel of the desk. You leaned over it, two fists to the tabletop, and muttered. “His plan is to keep reminding me that I’ve murdered everyone who ever loved me. Why perpetuate that by letting me think you hate me too?”

“Shit,” he grumbled and pawed at his own face, scrubbing at the stubble that had grown on his chin. He looked about as rough as you all had, and you knew he hadn’t slept the night before either. “I don’t hate you,” he hissed, though he did back the chair up a few more feet until he hit the wall. 

“I know,” you stood back up. “I just wanted to make you feel shitty for ignoring me for the past two days. You know, I’d feel a lot less hopeless about my fate if the one person who knew what I was going through wasn’t, I don’t know, terrified of me?” 

His gaze softened, big brown eyes turned downward as he gnawed on the cuticle of a nail that you’re sure had been shredded. “It’s not you,” he said through his teeth. “It’s the other dickhead.” He gestured toward your head, but his eyes went somewhere far-off, somewhere full of beasts and burned woods and horror.

“He can’t get you, Eds,” you shrugged off the sharp pain in your shoulder, the gnawing at your spinal cord.

“You don’t know that,” he whispered.

Another sting strung through you, like fingers plucking your strings, and you closed your eyes through the pain, pushed through. “How did you get out of it before? This… mindfuck, how did you escape it?”

Eddie shrugged, shook out his curls. “I don’t know.”

Panic at the familiarity of having questions unanswered began to claw at your insides, and you snapped, slamming your hands back down onto the table. “Don’t bullshit me, Munson. You guys are plotting how to get this parasite out of me. You won’t let me sleep. I need to be babysat at all times by people who are afraid of me. I’m not a child! Teach me how to defend myself against this.”

“What in the Hell is going on out here?” A gruff shout preceded the creak of a door on its hinges, the stomping of boots from down the hall. When Hopper caught sight of you both, his shoulders relaxed in a sigh.

“We’re just screaming about our impending doom,” Eddie explained, that sardonic grin spreading across his features. 

Hopper made eye contact with you and cocked a brow, frown-unmoved by Munson’s sarcasm. “You okay?” 

You shrugged, shoved your hands in your pants pockets. “You guys figure out how to get this asshole out of me yet?” 

Hop made eyes at your best friend, and the two of them exchanged cryptic glances before he said, “Working on it. Is there a reason you’re fighting outside my office?” 

Eddie looked at you, and you thought he was expecting an answer until his smile fell, and you watched the sadness pierce his brown eyes. “No, sir,” he said, “I was just coming to ask how soon we could get back into the War Room.” 

The old man looked between you two again. “Twenty minutes sound good?” 

Eddie sighed, rubbing at tired eyes. “Better make it thirty.”

With a salute, Hopper turned and walked back to his office, floor squeaking beneath his feet. 

Eddie pulled himself off his chair and started making his way back toward the elevators. You gave him a wide berth, until he gestured for you to catch up, and you did so tentatively. 

The doors buzzed open when the lift arrived, and you both stepped inside. It quaked a little under your combined weight, but managed to start its ascent the moment the doors closed again. The mechanics whirred a little, and the little box smelled of hot metal. 

“Dustin sang to me.” Munson broke the silence. His hand was trembling, rings clanging against the metal hand-hold of his walker. “I beat the ever-loving shit out of him. He almost died at my hands, and he was laying there, bloodied, face-swollen, and he started singing.”

Your breath caught in your throat. You remembered seeing Henderson afterward. You remember visiting him in the Med Bay, of seeing the pain everyone had suffered at the hands of this monster. “What did he sing?” 

Eddie snorted, rolled his eyes. “The Never-Ending Story theme.” 

The halt of the elevator stifled the chuckle you emitted at the image, and you reached a hand to hold the door open for your friend while he exited into a dark hallway.

“Yeah, it was so stupid, but all those little shits were there, and they were telling me stories about Hellfire,” he continued, pushing forward toward mid-morning light cast across pale yellow walls. “They remembered shit I’d forgotten about, and they talked about these characters like we were all there living it. Like we’d destroyed Lord Vecna with swords and axes and a slingshot.”

The mention of his name brought ice-cold to the warmth of your chest.

“So I think it was all of those memories. That’s what snapped me out of it: those weird ass kids and the stupid tabletop game we played after school.”

The idea itself was heartwarming, wholesome, and you ought to be inspired, happy even, that these kids managed to rescue your best friend from the brink. Somehow, the only thing that came to mind was a shock of red hair, black smoke, ash and char and agonizing screams.

“Stop,” Eddie stopped and reached out to grab your hand. “I know you’re thinking about Vickie right now, and you couldn’t have saved her. You didn’t know, and she didn’t know.”

His hand was warm, and a bit damp, and his eyes were fierce. 

“Think about all of the good times you had with her. Think about all the times I knocked on your door to find you two whispering and cackling. Think about all the fights we’ve gotten into about music. Think about Robin’s horrible taste in ice cream. Think about how good it feels to kiss Harrington. Think about how stupid Hopper looks without a mustache.” 

You laughed, a barked thing that stung at emotional-filled vocal chords, and batted at the grin that formed on his stupid face.

“Ow,” he chuckled, shoving you back, hard enough to have you stumbling backwards slightly, and he zoomed around a corner before you scrambled to catch-up, still chuckling.

Light poured in from adjacent windows, across the common area. The soft curls atop his head glowed in sunlight and warmth, and before you could stop yourself, you swung your arms tight around his slender waist and buried your face into the sweet sting of marijuana that lingered in his t-shirt.

He stumbled a little, tensed, but quickly relaxed into the embrace, folding his arms around you too. “We’re not going to let him win, damnit. Fucking promise me.” 

You grit your teeth and nodded, that uneasy pull settling into your shoulders like wings. “Promise.” 

—

Day slipped to night, and you watched pale yellow hallways burn orange and peach with the setting sun. Teams took turns chauffeuring you around the compound, keeping you company and keeping you caffeinated. You tried to keep Eddie’s words at heart, lingering on the smiles and laughter, and you were bid goodnight with hugs and high-fives in the common room just as Scorch was making their way to their respective dorms for the night.

You heard the whispers first, pulling yourself off a barstool to greet everyone with a smile that fell the moment you caught their gazes, their judgment, their disdain. 

Panic dug its claws into your chest. Each of your teammates passed with terror in their eyes until the last two squeezed themselves through the stairwell doorway. Harrington held the heavy steel door open to let Wheeler through.

She spotted you as the others had, jaw clenched, blue eyes fierce. Unlike the others, she crossed right to you. “We’re getting it figured out. You’ll be out of the dark soon, I promise. How’re you feeling?” 

“F-fine,” you swallowed, glanced over her shoulder at Harrington. He was staring at his feet, scratching that scar at the back of his skull. “Tired.” 

Nancy nodded, and glanced over her shoulder before dipping her own gaze to the ground. “Listen, I know I’ve never told you this, but I really admire you.”

Her words stirred something within you, that panic kicking back up again, all claws and teeth and gaping mouth. “What?” Your mouth felt dry. 

She looked up at you then, shrugged, the softest smile quirking at the corner of her bow lips. “You were an amazing team lead, and you had to make some horrific decisions, I can’t imagine…” She cut herself off, cleared her throat. “I just think you’re really brave.”

You managed to thank her, somehow, though you were stunned, and she bid you both a goodnight.

You stared at her back as she retreated, curly hair cascading over her petite shoulders. Even now, in the glow of an Exit sign, she stood tall, proud.

“C’,mon,” Harrington gestured for you to follow him, hands shoved into his pockets. He still hadn’t made eye contact with you, and the panic crawled on all-fours up your esophagus.

“Harrington,” you hissed, pulling your keys and lanyard from your pocket as he stopped beside you dorm room door.

“Can I come in?”

Your hands trembled unlocking your door. You room was stale, cold. You kicked off your shoes near the door and hung your key on its hook by the door. Harrington crossed to your radio to flick it on, static breaking through tracks until he found a station he was satisfied with.

“Harrington,” you hated the way your voice wavered, fear chattering your teeth. “You have to tell me if I’m going to die.” 

He looked up at you then, brow crumpled. “You know I won’t let that happen.” 

“You might not have a choice!”

“Stop saying that!” His volume matched yours, and his own fists shook at his sides, and his tone warmed you. 

That same excitement, the familiarity of a fight kicked up in your chest. You rolled your eyes. “Harrington…”

“No,” he shook his head. “I’m sick of you saying you’re going to give up on me. I’ve put everything into keeping you alive, and you go and say shit like that and make it all feel meaningless?”

The excitement fluttered, wavered, burned out, a flame doused with water to drown it with reality. You swallowed, frowned, ground your molars until something ached in your jaw.

“I promised - ” 

“Cut the bullshit,” you snapped. “We all made promises to her, but she’s dead now, okay?” 

“I’m not talking about Vickie.” He cut you off again. 

Your ears rang in the silence of the room, the steady thump of your heartbeat, the in-and-out of your breath.

“I promised you,” his jaw tightened, “that night, in my room, when we fell asleep, you told me you were scared of all this, and that you couldn’t tell Vickie how scared you were because you had to be brave for her. Do you remember that?”

Secrets were exchanged nose-to-nose, mixing breath warm, gentle circles drawn with thumbs on bare thighs, promises made. 

“I told you I’d be brave for you. I promised I’d keep you safe.”

He had muttered the words to your forehead, soft lips to your brow as you dozed off, dreaming only of fire and ash. 

“I’m trying so hard to be brave here,” he stepped toward you painfully slow, the creak of boots against linoleum. “But it’s hard when I don’t know if I can keep you safe, and that scares me because I love you, and I’m not letting you go that easily.” 

The table separated you, a rickety excuse for a boundary that teetered under your touch. This was entirely new territory, an attack you hadn’t expected, were unsure how to navigate. You resorted to comfort.

“I didn’t ask you to be brave for me,” you scoffed, hand trembling against the back of a chair.

Harrington’s eyes remained on you, brow crumpled, less in anger now than something more fragile. His Adam’s apple bobbed. “I said I’m in love with you.”

Your stomach swooped, heart clawing to get out with rapid beats, screaming in your ears. “I-I know.” You stammered.

“Do you…” He cleared his throat, fingertips tracing the tabletop dangerously close to your own. He licked his lips and watched you carefully, eyes hopeful. “How do you… I mean?” He gestured wildly, mouth quirking upward in panic.

You chewed back a laugh, something warm and familiar kicking back up. You managed to roll your eyes. “Yeah, Harrington, yes. You can calm down. I’ve been in love with you since I got into your stupid car.” 

“It’s not a competition,” he grumbled, stepping around the table to approach you. He was warm, brown eyes and upturned pink lips. 

“I’m not competing with you, I’m just telling you how I feel. I’m starting to think you’re the one obsessed with competition.” You were rambling, a nervous habit you must’ve picked up from your best friend, tongue running while your heart raced. 

“Will you shut up and let me kiss you?” He mumbled, lashes long and eyes dark. He cupped your face with one strong hand, tracing the curves of your face with his thumb. 

“Okay,” you breathed. Your eyes sunk closed at the pull of his nose against your own, the dip of his cupid’s bow to your own, and when his lips met yours, you could have melted into the floor.

His kiss was sweet, soft, the gentle press of his lips to your own while he cradled your face. When you separated, eyes fluttering open to see him hovering over you, that smile across his features, you found yourself hungry for more.

Gripping the shoulder seams of his t-shirt, you pulled him in for another go, took his gasp for air as an invitation to deepen the kiss. You tasted him, all tongues and teeth as you vied for dominance, and his free hand gripped the elastic waistband at your hip until the material was taut.

He kissed better than you remembered, a wash of warm and safety and heat and passion, but memory still begged for the feeling of your hands in his hair and his large, warm hands on you. 

He sucked in a breath when you scratched at his scalp, gently passing by the healing scar on your way to bury your fingers in the thick of his hair. He hummed into your lips, dropping his hand from your cheek to grip the other side of your sweatpants.

You groaned, tilting your head sideways to allow him to place damp kisses along the column of your throat. “Harrington, put your hands on me.”

He groaned, a rumble deep in his chest that coursed another wave of need through you. “You can use my first name, you know.” He nosed at your earlobe, smile evident in his voice.

“You have to earn it,” you bit back a smile, and yelped when his hands found your ribcage and pushed you up against your cabinets and countertop. The linoleum was cold against the small of your back, and your arms raised above your head for him to pull your sweatshirt up and over. 

He cupped your face again, crowding you with his oversized frame as he pressed himself into you. His lips were soft against yours, soft enough to make you feel vulnerable, taken off-guard. He kissed your cheek where it met your lips and the tip of your chin. He trailed warm, breathy kisses along the curve of your jaw, moving his hands to your shoulders until his lips met them there. 

You watched him, breathless, as his fingers pushed one strap of your tank top down, and you bit back a whimper as his lips replaced the strap at the juncture of your clavicle. 

His hands clutched at your waist band again, and he rocked his hips into yours, and you gasped at the friction of yourself against his hard length.

He pulled back, eyes dark, chest rising and falling rapidly, to gauge your reaction, and it was enough to have you clawing at his t-shirt again. He reached to pull it from the back of its collar, and you shrugged yourself out of your sweatpants, allowing the comfortable fabric to pool at the floor.

You lifted yourself onto the countertop and embraced the heat of his bare abdomen against you as he dove in for another passionate kiss. You clutched at the meat between his shoulder blades, delighting in the rumble of a groan as you dug your nails in and dragged to the base of his skull.

His hands were on you, finally, warm and strong and dexterous, worshiping your waist, your ribcage, your breasts.

You arched into his touch, gasping into his mouth, and he gripped your hips with one hand to pull you to the counter’s edge to grind himself into you again. Your body responded in kind to his touch, pliable.

You leaned your head against the upper cabinets, what few possessions that lived inside rattled.

He kissed your neck and chest, thumb pebbling your nipple, while his other hand massaged from your hip crease to your knee.

You clawed at the expanse of his chest, desperate for him to get closer, but delighting in the feel of his tongue against you until he stopped.

He pulled back, pulling his hand from beneath your shirt to rest on your hip while his other continued slow ministrations along your thigh. You watched as his fingertips ghosted the thick scarring there, five distinct claw marks from ribcage to knee, a part of you now you’d nearly forgotten, invisible under your own gaze. 

You swallowed, suddenly too warm, exposed. You ducked your head, eyeing the curves of him instead, the breadth of his chest, smattering of hair that covered his sternum and trailed down past his navel to disappear beneath his waistband. On either side of his ribs were scars that matched yours, purple and puckered and violent.

“You are brave,” he said, recapturing your focus, voice syrupy sweet, gaze dangerous. “You are beautiful.”

You sucked in a breath as his fingertips ghosted your inner thigh, a trickle of ticklish touches against the softest bits of you until you felt the sweet press of fingertips to your center. 

“Can I touch you?” He muttered. He licked his lips, eyes cast downward. 

“Yes,” you whined, gripping the countertop’s edge, “please.”

His forearm flexed as he moved your underwear to the side, and his thick fingers gathered the slick at your core to coat your folds. “Please who?” He asked.

You almost didn’t catch it, lost in the ecstasy of his touch, but you blinked to the forefront of your consciousness to see the cocky smirk stretched across his features. You bit back a smile and managed half an eye roll before he sunk two fingers into you, the perfect stretch. Your eyes slid closed, and you clung to his forearm, gasping his name. “Steve.”

“Uh uh,” he tutted, “don’t go away. Open your eyes, beautiful. Want to watch you.” 

Your eyes snapped back open, and his cheeks flushed in a wide smile.

“Good girl,” he nodded, and proceeded to take you apart with nimble fingers, watching you ride the wave until you came crashing down, digging your nails into his arms and stars scattered in your eyesight. 

He caught your lips in a sweet kiss, dropping your thigh from his hip with a squeeze. He chuckled as you caught your breath against his chest, spent, and nosed at your earlobe, planting a sweet kiss there too. 

“I hate you,” you grumbled, nipping at his clavicle to hide the smile stretched across your features. 

“Liar,” he countered, rumbling in a hearty laugh. 

“You’re awfully cocky,” you countered, reaching your hand to palm at his hardened length through his pants. 

He groaned and ground against your hand until your mouth watered. 

You gestured behind him, shoving at his shoulders until he gave you enough space to hop off the counter. The linoleum tiles were freezing beneath the balls of your feet. “Get on the bed.”

He stumbled backwards, the grin across his face possibly the prettiest thing you’ve ever seen. 

You pulled your tank top from your head and tossed it to the growing clothes pile. “Take off your pants, boots too.” You stepped out of your underwear. 

“Yes, ma’am,” he sat on the foot of your bed to unlace his boots, before standing to frantically paw at the buckle of his belts before he worked his pants down his thick thighs. 

His movements were eager, and you couldn’t help but laugh as you met him where he stood. “Can I help?” You dipped your hand into the waistband of his underwear. 

“Fuck,” he breathed, arms stretched over his head before he pulled you in tight. “Full disclosure?” 

You hummed, wrapping your fingers around him.

He squeezed his eyes shut and grabbed your arm to stop your movements. When he looked at you again, he seemed scared. “It’s been like two years…”

You smiled, pulling your hand from his boxers before tugging them all the way down, cock springing free. With his pants around his ankles, you shoved your partner to the mattress, springs groaning under his weight, and you carefully climbed on top. 

“C’mere,” he grumbled, pulling you down to meet his lips in a warm kiss. He snaked his arms around you, large hands running over the curves of your back. “You’re perfect,” he said, squeezing the dips of your hips, rolling you into him. 

You shared lazy kisses and appreciated one another’s bodies with wandering hands and lips. You sat up, hands extended to his shoulders, his pecs, the ripple of abs that twitched with laughter under your fingertips. “Steve,” you whispered, an unfamiliar emotion sticking to your vocal cords.

He hummed, tilting his head to catch your gaze. His brow crumpled in concern. You felt so blessed to see him relaxed, comfortable, safe. 

“I love you.” The tears threatened to spill, and you held them back, holding his hands against your hip creases. “I love you, and I’m…” Scared, guilty, sad, grateful, heartbroken, fulfilled, home.

“Hey,” he reached a hand to catch your cheek. “I love you, and I promise I’m going to keep you safe.” 

You nodded, kissed the palm of his hand. You maintained his gaze, kissing his wrist, the tips of his fingers, before you centered yourself over him. 

He tangled his fingers in your own and nodded, biting down on his lower lip as you sunk down onto him. 

If you were fire, Steve was water, the sweet swell of calm emotions and tranquility. For every push, he offered soft kisses, for every pull, he hummed praises. You rode the wave through peaks and valleys, and he worshipped your peaks and valleys. He rolled you over, pressing you into the warm woolen fabric of your blanket, and washed over your in warmth and love and devotion. He was all hands and protection and licked kisses, the snap of hips and sweet confessions of love. 

Your body buzzed with overstimulation, aching muscles stretched taut and plied soft again, and you stared up at water-stained ceilings, your surroundings coming quickly back into focus. 

Steve kissed you, mouth sweet with you, and eyes heavy with exhaustion, both satisfied and well-spent. He moved the hair from his eyes, pushing it up and back until it stood on end, and he leaned on one arm to trace circle into your chest, pulling the covers up higher to cover his waist. “Hey,” he whispered, cupping your cheek in his face. “Where’d you go?” 

You blinked back at him, feigning a smile to quell the worry on his face. “You should get some sleep.” 

His face fell, and he glanced over your shoulder at the clock radio. The late night advertisements buzzed back into your periphery.

He rolled onto his back beside you, pulling you into his chest with an arm around you. He squeezed you in tight, pressing his lips to your hairline again and again and again. He felt stiff, the easiness of the last few hours wiped away with one question. 

Anxiety bloomed in your chest, flower-faced with rows and rows of razor sharp teeth, claws at the flesh that hid your sternum. 

Harrington cleared his throat, kissing you one last time before he muttered, “We should get dressed.”

---

[A/N: They're in love!? Who knew!? This chapter was really a labor of love for me, and I'm getting very emotional knowing the next chapter is the last one. This story has honestly meant so much to me. Thank you so much for reading xo]

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[kathyprior4200]

Fallen (post episode 4)

 Cletus, Keenie and Collin broke down in heavy tears as they surveyed the area around them. The audience lay slumped and dead in their seats after being shot with arrows and bullets. Metal scaffolding lay bent and wrecked on the wooden stage where Blitzo, Moxxie and Millie were moments before. The former opera singer now lay dead and crushed underneath a stage light that had fallen on top of her. And underneath a broken piano lay the dead crushed body of Lyle Lipton, the elderly inventor they had tried to save.

 The scene was eerie and empty. The nervous well-dressed piano guy had promptly fled the scene, traumatized after the events. And those accursed imps had jumped through a portal back to Hell in triumph.

 As Cletus cried some more, fountains of tears sprung from his eyes. Keenie and Collin rushed in to comfort him. The trio had never felt so vulnerable before.

 “I…I can’t believe this!” Cletus wailed. “We were so close to helping out that man…even though he was shitty and old…”

 “Language,” chided Keenie.

 Cletus continued. “We did everything right, but now we can’t get back through.”

 “It’s not��completely your fault,” Collin said, putting a hoof on his leader’s back in comfort. “It was all an accident.”

 Cletus raised an eyebrow at his comrade. “What do you mean ‘not completely?’”

 “Well…” Collin began.

 “You’re right, it was those imps’ doing!” Keenie interrupted, her white lacy wings flapping in frustration. “If only Deerie had seen what they were doing to us.”

 The three took some deep breaths and sobs as they slowly calmed down. With a wave of his hand, their fancy dresses and tuxedos clothes were replaced by their regular outfits: reddish overalls for Cletus, a light blue shirt and white bow tie for Collin and a yellow dress for Keenie.

 “What do we do now?” Collin asked, almost in a whisper.

 “First thing’s first,” said Cletus. “We find a safe place to stay for a while. Who knows how long we’ll have to stay on Earth?” The others nodded in agreement.

 “Urgh,” Keenie scowled. “First those filthy demonic trash decide to mock us and now we have to live among these…messy mortals?”

 “Oh come on,” Collin gave a small smile as the three left the theater. They looked again sadly at the deceased humans and made crosses with their hands before flying away through an open window. “Things will work out. We’ve helped humans all the time. Surely they can’t be that bad!”

  The three of them later gasped in sheer horror on the streets in a nearby town. A homeless man sat on a corner smoking a cigarette, while his comrade vomited alcohol down a sewer drain. A large man with a mustache ripped off a woman’s shirt as she leaned into him with a messy kiss in an alleyway. A skinny thief snatched a woman’s purse before he was brutally shot in the head by a man with a baseball cap. Two men were fighting each other and swearing, one of them landing a punch that toppled the other to the ground. As a policeman dragged a body away, a nearby band blared on bloodstained instruments. The logo on the drum read “Hail Satan!” in red messy paint.

 A group of men sitting on a bench glanced at the cherubs hungrily.

 “Anyone want mutton chops tonight?” The others laughed and displayed sinister grins.

 C.H.E.R.U.B. stood with open mouths for several seconds. Cletus laughed nervously and made a motion with his arm and fist. “Let’s go check out someplace else!”

 The three took to the sky, trying not to look at the watchful eyes of passerby.

 Collin’s fluffy light indigo ears perked up. “Hey, I know what we can do! We can keep doing our job like before, helping people in need! Now that those imps are back in Hell, we are free to do what we like.”

 Keenie shook her head. “As much as I want to, I don’t think we should just yet. I’m worried that we’ll just cause more deaths.”

 “I might have to agree as well,” said Cletus. “I mean, how can we tell anyone about our accomplishments if we aren’t in Heaven anymore?”

 “I miss my mom and dad,” Collin whined. “How will they react when they find out about what we’ve done?” He gasped. “What if they already know? What if all of Heaven knows and now sees us as…one of them?”

 The others gasped.

 “You don’t mean…” Keenie began.

 Cletus rapidly shook his head. “No, no, no, no! I refuse to believe that our one mistake would lead us into becoming demons!”

 “What if…it’s already too late?” Keenie wondered in fear.

 Collin imagined all three of them trapped in long black demonic hands, their wings and halos gone. Flames turning their eyes red and their skin a charred black. The pale face of Lucifer towering behind them and letting out a maniacal laugh.

 “Oh my gosh, oh my god!” Collin cried, his eyes wide as he shook his head free of the fear.

 Keenie slapped him hard on the head. “Hey, I told you to not use the Lord’s name in vain!” Collin sobbed again and rubbed his large white wool of hair as he flew beside them.

  The setting sun turned the sky a brilliant orange as the three cherubs searched for a safe place to stay the night. Their white feathery wings and halos glowed and flickered in the fading light. Their silhouettes followed the setting sun before they landed in a quieter part of town. Neon signs were already humming in the twilight. From inside nearby windows, several woman were wearing dark lace and high heeled boots, pole-dancing to upbeat music. The cherubs huddled close together, staying under streetlights to avoid the dark unknown. Their wings flapped silently as they moved forward inches off the ground.

 “I miss Heaven’s comforting light,” Keenie sighed. “And God’s light most of all. It seems like this place is devoid of it.”

 “There’s always good somewhere in the world,” said Collin with a hopeful expression. “You just have to know where to look.”

 “The only thing I see are shabby buildings and humans indulging in their disgusting desires,” Cletus remarked. He mentioned to a nearby man who burped loudly after stuffing an entire pizza into his mouth. “The sooner we get home, the better.”

 Collin took a piece of cheese he bought and popped it into his mouth. He grumbled. “The food here is prison food in comparison to what we have back home. It just tastes so…bland and heavy.”

 Keenie munched half-heartedly on a carrot. “It’s still edible at least.”

 “Demons eat nothing but raw meat,” Cletus added. “Back up above, we could enjoy all the vegetables, holy fruits, and drinks we wanted. Every day was an endless buffet…”

 “Stop making me hungry,” Collin remarked. They fell into silence as a nightly breeze ruffled their clothing and wooly fur.

 “I think we should get human disguises soon,” Collin later mentioned as they hovered over the sidewalk.

 “Yeah, like those hideous costumes worked out well for those imps,” Cletus rolled his eyes. “Relax, Collin. I’m sure some of the humans will notice and treat us with the respect I…um, we deserve.”

 Collin huffed. “I sure hope so.” He clapped his large front hooves together nervously as if trying to say something. As they continued hovering past some alleyways, a low growl was heard. Keenie paused, her hair stood on end.

  “Guys…what was that?” Keenie asked, looking around.

 “Probably just Collin’s stomach,” Cletus mentioned.

 “No, I swear it wasn’t me,” he said. “Through I am very hungry.”

 The growling grew louder…it seemed to be coming from behind them. The three slowly turned around and spotted a figure in the shadows. It was a large gray canine with beady black eyes…and very sharp teeth. Drool dribbled onto the ground by its paws.

 The cherubs screamed and scattered away in flight. The dog barked loudly and raced after them. The cherubs zoomed up ahead, avoiding passing cars and maneuvering around figures of people. They zoomed over black trash bags as the dog barreled through them at high speed. The dog raced on all fours, snapping its jaws as it moved closer to them.

 “Get back!” Keenie called, moving her yellow hooves in a frantic kick, just missing its face. The beast just grabbed at her dress with its teeth and yanked.

 “Aaaahhhh! Get off, you beast!” she cried.

 Cletus yelled in fury and raised his hand in the air as he flew. He then glanced upward in sheer shock.

 “I can’t summon my golden crossbow!”

 Collin flew nearby, muttering a prayer while shaking. He took a deep breath and speed toward the dog. He landed a punch to the dog’s eyes…and with a yelp, the dog let go of Keenie’s dress with a rip. Keenie gasped and shook herself. “My dress!” she cried as she stared at the torn slobbery hole. “Look at my dress!”

 “Be thankful it’s not your backside,” Cletus mentioned. Keenie seethed at him as Collin came flying back toward them, the dog at his heels. Keenie shoved Collin backwards toward the dog, sending the both of them tumbling to the ground.

 Cletus and Keenie flew as fast as they could until Keenie spotted a beacon in the distance. A tall brick building had a large white Christian Cross on top of it, appearing golden as the sun continued to set. Several stained glass windows showed images of Jesus and the Virgin Mary surrounded by golden backgrounds. Even more spectacular was a nearby towering Christmas tree decorated with gold and silver ornaments and a six pointed star at the top.

 “A church!” she called. “Hurry!”

 They landed in front of the large wooden double doors, catching their breath.

 “My wings are sore,” Cletus groaned.

 “No more flying for a while,” Keenie agreed.

 Cletus knocked politely on the door. “Hello? Anybody in there?”

 So far, no answer.

 Just then, they heard panting from behind them. They whirled around…only to find Collin hunched over, his clothes torn up. There were several scratches all over him.

 “Oh Collin, thank goodness,” Cletus sighed in relief.

 “Keenie…” Collin began. “What was that back there?! I’m lucky I escaped at all!”

 “I had to distract the dog so we could get away,” she said.

 Collin glared and stomped one of his cloven feet. “That’s the second time you pushed me in harm’s way! And the first time was with a whole pack of wild animals!”

 “You’re still fine, right?” she asked.

 Collin let out a “ha!” followed by a “no.”

 “Don’t ever do that again,” he said, folding his arms. The cherubs waved their hands and their clothes and skin were repaired.

 Just then, the door solely opened. A woman dressed in a black robe stared into the distance. “Hello?”

 “Down here,” said Cletus. She looked down with surprise in her eyes.

 “May I help you?”

 “Hi,” said Cletus. “We got lost from our home and now we have nowhere to go. May we stay for a bit?”

 The woman peered closer at them, narrowing her eyes. “You three look familiar…”

 The cherubs gulped. Seconds dragged on.

 “Do I know you?”

 “Um…” Cletus began, sweat trickling down his forehead.

 “Of course!” she called, standing up. “You’re those guardian angels who go out and save people, yes?”

 Cletus stood proudly. “Yep, that’s us!” The other two let out soft gasps and looked at Cletus in worry.

 The woman looked around. “Hurry, inside now,” she said. “The world is full of people willing to take advantage of you savior children.”

 The cherubs bowed in thanks before heading through the door.

 “Technically, I’m twenty-four,” Cletus muttered.

 “I thought we were hundreds of years old,” wondered Keenie.

 Collin grinned, redness briefly spreading to his cheeks. “You’re so beautiful, you don’t look a year over two-hundred.”

 Keenie “bahed” at him in annoyance before they made it into the main chamber. The high vaulted ceiling made even the cherub angels feel small. The sky was a dark indigo through the opening above. Rows of arched gaps circled the area near the ceiling, and stone pillars held the ceiling on either side. The floor was in a black and white checkered pattern while a few Greek inspired designs caught Cletus’ attention. The rows of seats were polished and clean, and several white candles were lit in holders, emitting a peaceful glow.

 The woman made way for them and came back with a bowl of fruit and grass. Collin munched on blueberries, Keenie on pineapple slices and Cletus started on red apples. Cletus stared into the apple’s red surface. “Just like the Garden of Eden,” he said to himself. “When Eve ate from the Tree of Knowledge, she had disobeyed God’s order. She gave the fruit to Adam who then ate one. God banished them from the Garden, cursed them to grow old and die…thus began the fall of man…”

 Cletus stared closely at the apple’s surface, the red morphing into the face of a red goat. A grin of sharp white teeth, red eyes surrounded by black, a glowing black Ring with a Roman numeral five on it…

 “Are you okay?” Collin asked.

 Cletus whipped his head to Collin. “Oh yes, I’m fine, I’m fine,” he said, forcing a grin.

 Cletus turned and set the apple aside.

 “I sure hope we don’t age too,” Keenie added in concern. “I don’t want to lose my pretty face and looks.”

 “That inventor managed to survive for a while,” Collin said.

 “Barely,” Cletus mentioned.

 “We’re still angels,” mentioned Collin. “It is very rare for us to be erased from existence without good reason…”

 “Please don’t say such things!” mumbled Keenie.

 The woman went up to the ornate alter and poured in some herbs into an incense burner. The smell of frankincense and myrrh calmed the cherubs down after a while.

 “I’ll leave you to it,” said the woman. “Stay for as long as you need but stay out of sight more often than naught. If you need anything, just let me know. Be careful dear sheep babies.”

 “Bless you miss,” said Cletus.

 The cherubs bowed in thanks as she left.

 “Sheep babies?” Cletus scowled. “I’m not a freaking baby!”

 “Don’t worry about it,” said Collin.

 Keenie walked up to a stone basin nearby as Collin and Cletus bickered for a bit. Gazing in a small pool of holy water, Keenie thought she saw a ghostly face of a pale woman with long blonde hair, a black crown and large curved horns. The face briefly shifted to another white face with orange eyes and flaming wild auburn colored hair. She blinked a few times and it was gone. She only saw her wide-eyed reflection faintly on the surface. She turned away and arrived beside her comrades.

 The altar before them was made of gold, as was the ornate cross situated on top.

 Keenie, Collin and Cletus knelt down in prayer, tears falling from their faces.

 “Oh mighty Lord, please have mercy on us,” Cletus said. “Please forgive us for the mistakes we made here on Earth.”

 “Father…we only tried to help a broken man get onto the right path,” Keenie said. “We didn’t mean to kill him.”

 “We just want to go home,” Collin added. “We’ll take whatever punishment you give us but please…tell us if there is anything we can do…”

 More moments passed as night fell. Stars and a moon were visible through the glass windows.

“God help the outcasts,” Collin chanted softly. “God help our cherub people. We look to you still. If you can’t help us, nobody will.”

 “I ask for glory. I ask for fame. I ask for redemption to shine on our name,” added Cletus.

 Keenie continued the chant.  “We ask for your guidance, a way to get by. Help us right our fate, listen to our cry.”

 Cletus finished, “Father, Jesus Christ, and the Holy Ghost, please watch over us.”

 All three said “Amen!” before a colorful portal of clouds opened above them. The cherubs each looked up.  

 “Lord Gabriel?” asked Cletus. “Is that you?”

 A sound of clapping hooves greeted them, followed by a haughty laugh.

 “My my, what a marvelous…pitiful performance!”

 The brown furry face of a winged deer cherub came into view. A sense of smugness and superiority was clearly reflected in her eyes.

 “Deerie?!” the cherubs cried, their faces morphing into angry scowls.

 “Wow, I’d expect a more proper welcome from deferential devotees such as yourselves. The human world getting to you so soon?”

 “What are you doing here?” Keenie asked. “We called for Gabriel.”

 “Gabriel sends you his best regards, and says that you guys can rise again and be fully redeemed after a while…”

 The cherubs smiled until she added, “heheh, yeah, no.”

 Their faces fell.

 “I’m afraid you guys can’t re-enter Heaven, like I said before. Nothing you can do about it. Rules and all.”

 Cletus turned red in the face. “But it was an accident! The imps fought us off. They were the ones trying to kill Lyle Lipton!”

 “But they didn’t, correct? Based on what Heaven has seen, you three not only killed Lyle unintentionally…but you caused much more death and suffering.”

 “What?!” all three cried out.  

 Collin thought back to all the dead audience members. They had been so involved in fighting off their rivals that they didn’t even notice them.

 “It was I.M.P.’s fault!” Keenie argued.

 “Yes, but you also played a role in it,” Deerie explained. “You blindly shot your arrow, which later caused the piano to crush the old man. We see everything, you know.”

 Cletus then turned to Collin. “About that time earlier when you said it ���wasn’t completely my fault…’”

 Collin stood his ground. “It was though. It was all our faults.” He jabbed a hoof into Cletus. “But you were so adamant to kill off those imps that you didn’t consider who else would be at risk. We should’ve taken the fight outside! I tried to tell you guys earlier!”

 “You’re a literal sheep,” Cletus replied, getting into Collin’s face. “You never said a word; you just followed my orders like you were supposed to.”

 “Those imps are nothing more than dirt that the dead tread on,” Keenie added. “We may be angels, but we never go down without a fight. Surely you’d do well with being less of a wimp, Collin.”

 Collin scoffed. “I’m sorry. I thought we were supposed to be the good guys. The loving guardians who actually help those we meet. I just realized that we didn’t let Lyle Lipton learn his little lesson.”

 “Five times fast,” Cletus snickered, but Collin ignored him.

 “We didn’t tell Lyle how sinful it is to be so immersed in his own greed. He really could’ve used his riches for good if we had stayed to help him like we were supposed to! We should’ve explained to our victims why any of their bad behaviors were wrong. But instead we just left them all behind!”

 “What did you think we were trying to do?!” Keenie yelled. “We showed him nature, childhood wonderment, young love and the arts. And it would’ve worked if it weren’t for those meddlesome…”

 “You done?” Deerie casually asked in the air. She finished filing her hooves and had a bag of popcorn with her. The cherubs turned back to her.

 “Far from it, bitch!” Keenie yelled.

 “Language!” Collin warned.

 “You three have learned nothing, huh? You see scraps, I was briefly summoned here by you guys and I gotta get back soon, so I may as well elaborate on your consequences. Let’s see…”

 Deerie summoned her clipboard and her reading glasses. On her notepad, she had drawn cats and Invader Zim characters. A side note read “more musical episodes?”

 “Not only did you kill one human, but you also killed multiple mortals in the theater. This has made Azrael, the Angel of Death very upset. There are many people that are chosen to die at certain times and let me tell you, having to cross and uncross multiple names can get pretty irksome.”

 The cherubs stood silent.

 “In other words, you’re also in trouble for simply…oh I don’t know…doing a business and going to Earth without the permission from your superiors! A big no-no.”

 “But we were saving people’s lives, and teaching them God’s true path…” Cletus began.

 “…or more than likely, saving humans just to boost about your company accomplishments.”

 “I knew it!” Collin called, glaring at Cletus. “Our main purpose is to help humans because it’s the right thing to do. I knew I should have stayed at my record-keeping job.”

 “You and Keenie thought joining C.H.E.R.U.B. with me was a good idea and it was!” Cletus protested.

 “Cherubs are supposed to do various record keeping for soul count, religions, sins and choices made by humans etc.,”Deerie said. “Just proves that I do my job better than you three after all!”

 Keenie smirked. “You sure you’re still not jealous because we got to go on exciting adventures? That we became more famous than you?” ��

 Deerie chuckled. “More like infamous now. Cletus especially, you gave into your pride and wrath during the fight. You cherubs are supposed to help spread the holy word of God, and not go into the human world unless necessary.”

 The cherubs lowered their heads a bit.  

 “Not to mention several people you saved ended up as criminals. You know, the kind of people who abuse their children, scam others into giving them money, enslaving citizens in other countries…”

 “How were we supposed to know all of that?!” Keenie cried. “We saved their lives at the request of their loved ones in Heaven!”

 “Which, in turn can cause more global suffering and even an altering of history itself,” Deerie explained. “Lyle was destined to die and go to Hell anyway. Your actions are not befitting to your titles as cherubs in the first place. I’m surprised no one has managed to sell you on the black market yet. I guess you can be referred to as…black sheep now!”

 Deerie burst into laughter, slapping her furry knees.

 “Get out,” Cletus muttered.

 Deerie laughed some more, wiping tears from her large eyes. “Oh dearie me, I’m so clever!”

 Cletus thought he saw a grinning man’s face with red eyes and licking his lips behind Deerie.

 Cletus shook the vision away before yelling, “No I’m serious, get the fuck out!”

 “Language!” the other three shouted, their voices echoing in the vast space. The silence was deafening. Or the noises were hearing.

 “Well then, I wish you three a fun time on Earth,” Deerie said. “Feel free to not call me again. I have no use dealing with fallen sheep anyway.”

 “Can you at least tell us what will happen to us next?” Collin asked.

 “Oh that’s actually pretty simple,” Deerie explained.  “I.M.P. will be dealt with in due time. But as for you three…”

 She pointed her hooves at Collin, Cletus and Keenie, who each gasped in turn. “In Gabriel’s words: ‘You will still redeem and protect human souls but this time under closer supervision. You will learn to live among them for a while in the hopes that your arrogance toward those different from yourselves will subside over time. Only after your true redemption may you return to Heaven. I have the utmost faith in you.’ End quote.”

 The three cherubs sighed in relief.

 “Oh one last thing,” Deerie grinned. “I forgot to tell you the best part.” Collin and the others did not like the look on her face.

 Deerie continued. “Now that you’re here on Earth, you will all be vulnerable to human emotions and sins. Pride, greed, lust, anger, you know it.”

 “Not gonna happen lady,” Keenie spat with her hands on her hips.  

 “Everyone save for God has flaws. You didn’t think that redeeming yourselves would be a stroll in the clouds did you?”

 The cherubs looked at each other.

 “Yeah, so basically you all have a limited time to prove yourselves on Earth. A couple days at the very least?”

 Collin whimpered with droopy ears as his white halo above him briefly flickered.

 “Yeah, so if you don’t complete your mission in time…it’s a one-way trip down for you!”

 The cherubs yelled while grabbing onto each other.

 “Yes indeed!” Deerie said. “I can see you three reluctantly joining up with I.M.P.’s rivals to enact your revenge, turning into the winged devils you were destined to become!”

 “Nooooooo!” they cried in horror.

 Deerie then let out a childish laugh, waving her hoof. “But hey, that’s just a theory! I look forward to hearing about your…pandemonium adventures in the next few episodes!”

 Deerie waved and called, “That’s a wrap! Bye!”

 Cletus charged at her again, but she vanished through the portal and it closed.

 “No, no, no!” Cletus sobbed again, his co-workers comforting him.

 After several minutes, the cherubs stared at the stars and moon through one long window.

 “You know guys,” Collin admitted, “Though you might be a pain in my behind at times, you’re still like my family. Whether we’re in Heaven, Earth or Hell…we can get through anything as long as we stick together.”

 Keenie gave Collin a comforting side hug. Cletus soon joined in and he sighed. “That’s one thing we can all agree on.”

 After staring at the heavens, Cletus said, “We’d better rest up…we have lots of work to do.”

 The three cherubs huddled together underneath another Christmas tree, sleeping on a comfortable red rug.

 Though the mighty had fallen, they could only hope that the meek could rise.

[hookaroo]

Vocivore, Ltd. (45 of 46)

Also on FFN and AO3 (ListerofTardis)

Tagging @ouatwinterwhump, @killian-whump, @sancocnutclub, @killianjonesownsmyheart1, @courtorderedcake, @facesiousbutton82 <3

***THE MOST WONDERFUL, HEARTBREAKING, and BEAUTIFULLY WHUMPY COVER ART BY @cocohook38 HERE and HERE!!!!!!!!!*************

***Chapter 12 animation and art that will absolutely astound you!!!!!!!!!**********

***LETHAL Chapter 19 art in all of its BLOODSTAINED GLORY!!!!************

**POOR STABBED KILLIAN falling into the sheriff station! Ch. 7 & 23 art!!**

****KILLIAN AND HIS MASTER IN THE GORGEOUS CATHEDRAL!!!!!!!!!!!!    CHAPTER 1 ART THAT KILLS ME EVERY TIME I SEE IT!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!*********

*CH 34 ART! A DEFEATED KILLIAN, HEAD BOWED BEFORE HIS MASTER!!*

***CH 36 ART! DETECTIVE JONES BOWS BEFORE HIS NEW MASTER!!!!!!***

***AAAAHHHH!!! THANK YOU MY WONDERFUL COCONUT FRIEND!!!!!!***

________________________________________________________________

Present (Thursday)...

Zzzzzzzz…

Shave day.

Killian had only to close his eyes to be transported back there. That dreadful hovel with its table of pain. Those callous hands dragging a dull-edged blade along his jaw. And nothing ahead of him but more suffering. No hope.

Focus on the differences. Warm, soft bed, no splintered, uncomfortable wood. Blankets and a gown instead of cold nudity. The din of automation replacing the scratchy ring of imprecise steel. Similar pungent disinfectant but less decay, less blood and pain and fear. And, most important, gentle touch. No intent to hurt or degrade. Only meticulous, loving care from the one person on Earth he trusted without reservation. 

“Holy crap,” teased Emma, “I think we need to get Whale to put a sign on your door warning that there's a handsome pirate inside.”

Knowing that he still looked like a wreck despite a neatly trimmed beard, he played along for her sake. “And what would its purpose be, to entice eligible nurses inside, or warn them away from his jealous bride?”

“I don't mind them looking,” smiled Emma. “What's the point of having a gorgeous husband if a girl doesn't show him off every once in awhile?”

Killian clenched his teeth as a wave of violent shivering overtook him; to a casual observer it would have appeared as if he were suddenly chilled to the bone despite climate-controlled surroundings and the layer of blankets draped atop him. Through nauseating pain, he heard Emma lay aside the razor and felt her grip his elbow in solidarity.

Whale remained hesitant to classify them as seizures, stating that the corresponding brain activity did not match any known convulsive disorder and responded to none of the anticonvulsant drugs they’d tried. Of course, that didn't rule out the possibility of eventual development into actual seizures, as most of the slave fatalities had experienced just before their deaths.

Killian had managed to catch snippets of conversations, grave tones and sobering words that betrayed what they seemed to be trying to hide from him. He would probably have guessed on his own, anyway, with his worsening state mirroring the course of the slaves who had preceded him in death. Sometimes he was able to comprehend what a shame it was, for him to have survived so long only to succumb now, when peace had returned to his home. In those moments he tried to take solace in the thought that he'd been granted more cherished memories with his wife and daughter, without a threat hanging over them, when he could focus on lavishing them both with the fierce love he felt for them. Emma would remember. Hope... he liked to think she would.

None of that mattered in the moment, though, as quivering muscles shocked every single inflamed nerve ending into high gear, enveloping him in a fog of inescapable agony.

Emma met his watery gaze with a sad, stiffly calm smile, and he read the desolate grief in her forged reassurance even as he realized that the attack was finally subsiding.

"Morphine?" she asked quietly, but he shook his head. Hope would be coming by for a visit soon, and he wanted a clear mind for her.

Her grip on him relaxed by degrees as some of the tension drained away from his body.

“I'm so sorry, Killian,” she whispered. “If only we could somehow bring magic back. I might not be able to stop these attacks, but I could at least heal your wounds and prevent some of this pain.”

She sniffled and before Killian could summon the breath to respond, she continued, 

“It doesn't make any sense; I mean, we thought it was related to the Vocivore, but maybe we're wrong, ‘cuz it seems like we should have found something by now…”

“I have something to report about that,” came Regina’s voice from the doorway. “But you’re not going to like it.”

Emma turned with a weary expectancy, and Regina stepped inside. She was the very picture of classic irritated aloofness, but she did glance at Killian and say,

“Sorry for barging in like this.”

"You found something?" demanded Emma, and Regina stopped at the foot of the bed. Her scowl could whither the blossoms off an apple tree.

"It's those damn pigeons."

"The... pigeons," repeated Emma slowly. In his mind's eye, Killian saw a ragged pink feather coated in slime; white, powdery droppings splattered on chancel cobbles; black and amber irises reflecting nothing but pure animal instinct. He heard the trilling cooing that had been the quiet backdrop for many a scream, memories as clear as if the blasted birds were right there in the room with him.

"Those ridiculous pink pigeons, Sheriff Swan," Regina confirmed, completely oblivious to Killian's uneasiness. "I cannot fathom how, but they're the ones responsible for the magical shielding. Pesky vermin."

Emma looked unconvinced, and Killian wanted to agree, but considering how the birds seemed inextricably linked to the Vocivore's presence, perhaps the idea wasn't so farfetched.

"Regina, are you sure? They're just dumb birds. How can they possibly block magic?"

"I'm... still working on that," admitted the queen. "But I know I'm right. Did you hear about those hooligans who set off the fireworks in front of City Hall this morning? Right in the middle of an inter-realm council meeting?"

"David filled me in, yeah; said he thought it was some Lost Boys from the Wish Realm."

"Well, as disruptive as it was to the meeting, it was a hundred times worse for our feathered friends. They took off like their tails were on fire and made for the Enchanted Forest or... Madagascar or somewhere; trouble was, they're too stupid to remember that for long, and they were back within 10 minutes. But in that time, there was a brief window in which I could almost access my power; it was there, just on the edge of awareness, just out of reach." She made a growl of frustration, both hands tightly fisted. "I thought for a second that the shield was collapsing for good, without us having to do anything about it, but wouldn't you know, we're stuck with our usual luck again."

Regina looked like she'd rinsed her mouth with lemon juice as she continued ranting. "The first bird to come back, while we were still searching the area for any unexploded fireworks? A pigeon. A fat, iridescent pink pigeon. And that's when I made the connection."

"Well, I've been saying we needed to get an exterminator, but just because you saw one doesn't necessarily prove that they're the culprits."

"I think she may be right," Killian said with another shiver. "They were... fairly strongly bonded with the Master. Sometimes would even ride on its shoulders." He cringed as the haunting outline of the beast filled his imagination, complete with winged companions, its tentacles pulsating as they reached toward him....

"And we have only recently started noticing them around Storybrooke," added Regina. "Just about the same time as magic failed. They’re remarkably distinctive, and I remember being surprised the first time I saw one."

"I don't see the connection," Emma began, still doubtful. "But it can't hurt to check it out. So say it is the pigeons. What's the next step?"

"That's the bad news." Regina glanced at Killian in apology. "It won't be a quick fix. Short of poisoning them, or making the town somehow inhospitable to birds in general--both of which are options that I can't see our critter-loving neighbors approving of--we're down to trapping and relocating each one individually, or trying to figure out what exactly gives them the ability to block magic. And either way, it's going to take time." She folded her arms, waiting for questions, but Emma and Killian were quiet, mulling over the situation. "I've tasked Robin with the job of bringing one to me for study. Don't tell your mother."

Killian was only half listening as a whole movie's worth of scenes replayed in his head. Pigeons, pigeons everywhere. He felt foolish for not noticing their conspicuousness before, but, of course, he did have other things to worry about at the time. 

He felt his spirits sinking impossibly lower as the consequences of the news took shape. No quick solution would mean no magical healing. He'd be stuck in this infernal hospital, recuperating in the conventional way, spending whatever time he had left uncomfortable and in pain. Somehow, the Master had managed to orchestrate continued torture for him; even in death, it was having the last laugh at his expense.

"Pigeons," scoffed Emma. "Pigeons and a crab. Who would have guessed?" Seeming to sense Killian's dark musings, she stroked his cheek with her thumb. "Sorry, Killian. This sucks."

"They must have evolved together," muttered Regina absently. "Developed some kind of symbiosis; they shield the Vocivore, and it gives them, what, shelter? Protection from predators?"

"Blood," realized Killian suddenly. The inspiration had come out of nowhere, a thought buried deep within his subconscious that had burst unbidden into full awareness. He'd only ever seen it out of the corner of his eye, with no attention to spare, his own misery and how long he'd been given before the next Session at the forefront, always. But there they were. Pink bodies fluttering to earth, a writhing mass behind him as he left the church, squabbling among sticky smears and warm pools, dipping dainty beaks, plunging belly-first in some macabre bathing ritual…

Then outside. They would be strutting through the gutters, congregating near fresh corpses while his tunnel vision kept him limping in the direction of Z's cottage, never truly seeing how beady little eyes sized him up even as blood-crusted heads burrowed into decaying flesh in search of more nourishment.

"Um... what?!"

Killian returned to reality to find Emma and Regina staring at him with matching expressions of revulsion.

"The pigeons, they... they seemed to fear the noise and, f-for the most part, remained in the rafters... during..." He hesitated, winced, then carried on with great effort. "But afterward... the Master didn't care about the stains on the floor, yet I never saw fresh blood when I first arrived. I... I think the pigeons... consumed it."

Killian thought he might vomit. Both of his visitors seemed to share the feeling.

"Okay, that's... disgusting."

Regina gulped and plastered on a weak smirk. "So. ‘Carrion’ pigeons. I wonder if their feathers are just stained, then, or if they turn pink from some substance in the blood they eat, similar to flamingos."

"Gross," moaned Emma. She took a sip of her bottled water. "But hold on a sec. If they're so fond of... that... then why did they make their way all the way to Storybrooke? There's way less... that... around here."

"Guess they can do without it. Or maybe they live off roadkill out here."

"Overcrowding?" suggested Emma, answering her own question. "Better nesting sites?"

"Would have made an intriguing Exchanges topic." Killian cringed at the thought. "Had I known to ask."

An uncomfortable silence descended upon the trio, until finally, Regina grunted her irritation at the whole thing.

"Well, I can try to confirm all of this once I get my hands on one of those little pests. Guess it's good to finally be getting some answ-"

"Mr. and Mrs. Hook, get your Thank-You cards ready; I've just-" Dr. Whale paused when he noticed Regina in the room. "Oh. Your Highness."

"Victor."

Whale caught Killian's glower and smirked. "What's that look for?"

"I'd explain but I'm still recovering from that utter shipwreck of a salutation."

"Sounds like you're feeling better. Guess I'm wasting my time, then, working around the clock?"

"Did you have something to tell us, Whale?" Emma's feigned irritation fooled no one--it was obvious she anticipated more important news.

"We've had a bit of a breakthrough, thanks to the data gleaned from you and Detective Jones." The physician held up a cautionary hand. "Results look promising, but this is by no means a sure thing, and there's no guarantee of long-term success. We'll of course continue to tweak it as we go along, but for now I think Killian could benefit from an initial dose as soon as possible."

"You think you've found a cure, then?" clarified Regina.

"A therapy," he corrected. "To slow the degeneration and maybe, eventually, reverse it. Tested on some lab animals, then this morning on two rescued slaves who were near death. They seem to be doing better." He pulled a hand-labeled vial from his pocket and set it on a table with a flourish. "The FDA would burn my license and probably toss me into prison for this. Good thing none of us officially exist."

As Killian stared at the little container of clear fluid onto which, suddenly, all of their hopes were pinned, he was struck with unexpected anxiety. It was all well and good when there was nothing that could be done, his fate seemingly sealed. Now that there was a reported chance, he wanted nothing more than for it to work. He wanted to live, to be a husband and father, to watch Hope grow and be there for her. The vial represented that future... and what if it didn't work?

Whale took Killian's silence as reluctance, and he sighed. "Yeah, I can't guarantee its safety either, or provide you with a list of possible side effects. Just that for you, with your weird, extra barrier that we still don't entirely understand, I'd like at least the first few doses to be administered directly into the CSF, and we do know the risks and side effects of lumbar puncture. But, well... listen, if it were me or a loved one in your position, I would still say that we need to try something, because the risks don't matter once the condition becomes terminal. Make sense?"

"None of that is in question," said Killian slowly. Then he flashed a short, tired smile at the physician, radiating self-deprecation. "Believe it or not, I actually do trust your medical expertise. I was only... praying for its success, I suppose."

Whale looked genuinely touched, for a fleeting instant. But soon enough his cocky demeanor was back. "You're right: I'm not sure I do believe it. I'm gonna take that admission as another symptom and then we can just carry on the way we always do."

He tossed some forms at Emma, ordering,

"Read and sign for him. Assuming you want to go through with it, we'll be back shortly to perform the procedure."

He left in a swirl of white lapels, muttering a polite farewell to Regina on his way. The queen turned back to Killian and Emma, wearing a slightly uncomfortable grin.

"Well. Good news, then. Or, a seed of hope, at least." She brushed invisible dust off her jacket and made other I'm-about-to-leave cues.

"Yeah. Thanks for filling us in about the pigeons." Emma glanced down at her phone, and a tiny frown creased her forehead. "Although you could have just called me."

Squirming, Regina blustered,

"I... thought the news would be better delivered in person. And... well... maybe there's a... small part of me that wanted to see how Killian was doing."

"That's most appreciated," said Killian. "Thank you."

Regina nodded stiffly, shot an, "I'll keep you informed," then exited.

Killian gritted his teeth through another bout of shivers--thankfully shorter this time--and when he could open his eyes again it was to find Emma watching in sympathy.

"Hope that's over with for now. You don't wanna be doing that while they're trying to stick a needle into your spine."

Throbbing and aching, Killian grimaced. He needed a distraction. "Everything okay, love?" he growled. "You were rather tight-lipped toward the end there."

It was then that he noticed the tear tracks staining her face.

"Emma?"

She lay aside the consent forms and wiped at her cheeks. "I've been so scared, Killian. Starting a month ago, but it hasn't stopped even with your rescue. I... well, Whale's been pretty pragmatic about your condition, and... truth is... I was starting to prepare myself to lose you." She caught two droplets before they had a chance to fall. "I mean, how horrible is that? You aren't even gone yet and I'm coaching myself to start saying goodbye."

She started to reach for his hand but stopped and gripped his wrist instead.

"That's human nature," he pointed out. "I've been doing it, too."

Her eyes glistened with sad questions. "We didn't... I mean, Whale thought that..."

"No, no one's told me anything; not before now at any rate. No one had to."

Emma leaned forward to kiss his cheek gently, brushing back some stray hair as she murmured,

"I'm sorry, Killian. Shoulda known better than to give up so soon."

His eyes found the vial, which Dr. Whale had left on the table. "Do you think it will work?"

"It has to," she said simply. "If nothing else, to give us more time. And you know... Whale's kinda the expert at this sort of thing, even if his attitude leaves something to be desired."

Killian was tiring rapidly; it had been one hell of an afternoon, and this was the most he'd participated in a conversation since his rescue, if not longer. But he still had one final question before hopefully catching a nap between interruptions.

"Whale mentioned 'data,' gleaned from you and Jones. Did I hear that correctly?"

Emma waved a dismissive hand. "Just a couple of tests he did on us; no big deal."

"You subjected yourselves to becoming his laboratory animals, all on my account?"

"And to help the other rescued slaves." She flashed him a twinkling grin, which softened into loving fondness. "But... yeah, mostly for you."

"Thank you, Emma, truly."

She graced him with a quick kiss, saying,

"You're welcome, and like I said, no big deal, and that's all we're gonna say about that." Noticing his heavy eyelids, she smoothed an eyebrow and then sat back. "We better do that paperwork before you fall asleep. Want me to hold it up so you can read it, or I could read it aloud to you..."

"Don't bother about it, love," he murmured. "You can read them yourself if you'd like, but I think we both know that there isn't much they could say that would change our views on the matter."

Killian cast his eyes on Hope's artwork once more before succumbing to his weariness. Perhaps it would guard his dreams and bring positive thoughts from here on out. Because now that he had a fighting chance at survival, healing his psyche had suddenly become that much more important, and it would most definitely be a longer road than the not-insignificant path to physical health.

Would he be up to the challenge?

________________________________________________________________

AN: Well, obviously I failed to get this posted quickly enough. Blame @cocohook38​ and @lillpon​ for killing me in their own wonderful ways :) Less than 36 hours til I’m on the plane to Ireland!!! Sorry to make you wait for the conclusion! It’s really not that long of a trip, though. I should be back to somewhat functional by July 10 :D

I’m looking for some milestone that gives me an excuse for “Winter Whump” to have lasted this long... XD The closest I’ve come is that I probably had the first inklings of what the premise would be sometime last summer, as sign-ups for the event closed June 30, 2018. So the final chapter will be released approximately 1 year later. *Shrug* Best I can do.

[lnfours]

lovers before fighters | p.p

summary: the idea of the accords have been brought to the avenger’s attention. the disagreement between tony, your father, and steve breaks out into a whole civil war. however, the line is drawn when your father has your boyfriend join his side to fight for what they think is right. not my gif

warnings: mentions of violence, little bit of language, continuation off this request. this lowkey sucks, but alright

words: 1.5k

masterlist | tagged list

you heard your father’s voice,”underoos!”

and with that, captain’s shield was snatched as peter soared through the air. he landed behind the team, cap’s shield in his hand. you smirked to yourself, looking at the new suit you and your father had planned out that was attached to peter’s figure.

“hey everyone.”

after a short while of banter between your father and steve, the fight had begun. both teams were fighting each other with no intentions of stopping. you made your way towards natasha, your years of training with her paying off as you knew her weaknesses. you dodged her punches, grabbing her fist as she tried swinging at you.

“i’m still your favorite niece, right?” you asked, trying to lighten the mood. she let out a chuckle, bringing your hand over her as you hit the ground with a thud, causing you to groan.

“depends, am i still your favorite aunt?” she asked, a smile plastered on her face. you let out a soft laugh as she went back over to your father. as you opened your eyes, steve offered you a hand up. you took it, getting up off the concrete ground.

“c’mon, there’s our ride.” he said and you nodded, following him as you both began running to the jet that was parked in the hangar. as you ran, others from your team joined you, until a giant beam cut through the ground, drawing a line.

“captain rogers,” vision’s voice filled the air as he floated above you,”i know you believe what you’re doing is right,”

you watched as the rest of your father’s team joined him behind the line. you felt your heart thumping in your chest, knowing that this wasn’t going down without a fight.

“but for the collective good, you must surrender now.”

the rest of your father’s team joined him, the new guy who you had never seen before landing to the left of your father, rhodey soon doing the same. peter was the last to swing in, joining in next to natasha.

“what do we do, cap?” sam asked, basically saying what you were thinking.

“we fight.”

you followed steve’s lead as he began making his way to your father’s team in front of you. you walked next to wanda and clint, taking in a deep breath as the opposing team began making their way towards you.

“this isn’t going to end well.” you mumbled, hoping that no one could hear you.

soon, everyone began jogging, and before you knew it, you were fighting against the new guy. even though you had no idea who he was, you went for it, dodging the punches from left to right until you felt him stop. you looked to see wanda as she used her powers to pry him off you. you sent her a smile and a nod, which she returned.

just as you were about to run, peter landed in front of you. you let out a soft sigh, followed by a chuckle.

“pretty insane, right? going against my dad and fighting with cap?”

he shrugged,”you could be doing worse things.”

you chuckled,”i guess you’re right.”

he walked forward, wrapping his arms around your waist,”you’re strong, you’ll get through this.”

you wrapped your arms around his neck, the two of you enjoying the embrace. you let out a sigh, knowing that what you were doing was insane, but what your father was doing was something you didn’t agree with.

“i love you, peter.”

“i love you, too, y/n.”

the two of you pulled away and you watched the eyes on peter’s suit go wide as he watched what was going on behind you. you turned around curious as to what was happening.

your eyes went wide as well, looking as scott had turned himself huge and was holding onto rhodey by his legs. you heard scott’s laugh on the headset.

“holy shit!” you and peter yelled at the same time, completely taken back by what you were seeing.

you and peter both ran forward, you running to steve and bucky, peter running off to the side.

“i guess that’s the signal.” steve said.

“that’s one hell of a signal.” you mumbled.

“way to go, tic tac!” sam yelled, causing you to let out a soft chuckle.

you watched as scott tossed rhodey, causing your heart to stop before peter ran, swinging towards him and stopping him from crashing through one of the planes.

you and clint began to hold off the new guy as peter tried to web up scott. clint pulled two arrows back, the new guy catching both of them before they exploded behind them. you raised your eyebrows, wiping the blood from your lip.

“we haven’t met yet,” clint said, folding his bow as he began to swing it around,”i’m clint.”

“i don’t care.”

you bit back a laugh before the two of you began to fight him off, trying to buy steve and bucky time to get to the jet. before you knew it, the both of you were laying on the ground as the new guy made his way towards the jet to get bucky and steve. you let out a groan as you rose to your feet, helping clint to his shorty after.

“who the hell is that guy?” he asked, rubbing his shoulder.

“don’t know,” you said, holding your side,”but whoever he is, he’s got a hell of a kick.”

you watched as peter swung past you, webbing up scott by the legs. you furrowed your eyebrows, but still watched as your father and rhoey began aiming high, hitting scott under the chin and causing him to lose balance.

as peter swung from scott’s large frame, his hand came up and smacked peter away, causing him to fly through the air and land on a bunch of boxes. you immediately ran towards him, your father flying over as well. you kneeled down next to peter, looking up at your father who was already looking up at you.

you rested a hand on his shoulder,”peter?”

he immediately began thrashing around, panic filling him. you held his arms as he tried swinging at you,”peter, it’s me!”

once he realized it was you he calmed down, looking back and forth between you and your father,”oh, hey. god, that was scary.”

you snorted, unable to stifle it as your father spoke,”yeah, you’re done.”

“what? no, i’m good! i’m fine!”

“no, the both of you are done, i’m not risking the both of you.”

it was your turn to put up a fight,”what? why?”

“no questions,” he said,”you leave to go to new york tonight, alright?”

“no, i’m fine! i gotta get him back!” peter protested.

“you’re going home or i’ll call aunt may, you’re done.” your father said in a more stern voice.

you watched as peter tried to go after your father, but soon fell back onto the ground after. you let out a sigh, as peter sat next to you, holding his side.

“you should’ve never gotten dragged into this,” you said,”i’m sorry.”

he shook his head,”i was the one who said yes to coming,” he said,”it’s not your fault.”

you let out another sigh as the two of you watched, it was only your father, rhodey and sam left. you heard the jet leave the hangar, watching as rhodey immediately flew after it, trying to catch up. you watched as vision sat with wanda, soon shooting a laser towards sam. however, he dodged it, causing it to hit rhodey instead. you sat up, eyes going wide as you watched the scene unfold, rhodey falling through the sky.

“no, no, no.” you mumbled, getting up and running as fast as you could to the field that he was heading straight for. you watched your father as he flew down, trying to beat rhodey to the ground in efforts to save him.

you watched as your uncle hit the ground with a large thud, dirt and grass kicking up as he dropped. you made your way towards your father, heart beating so fast you thought it was going to come out your ribs.

“dad!” you screamed, causing tony to look up. when you finally reached them, he stood up, pulling you into his chest as you felt the hot tears stream down your face, looking down at your unconscious uncle.

“he’s alive, ambulance is on it’s way, alright?” he said, rocking your frightened body back and forth.

“i’m sorry, dad, i’m sorry for everything.” you said, a hiccup following soon after.

“i’m sorry too, kiddo. i’m sorry, too.”

you heard footsteps behind you as the person put a hand on your shoulder, trying to comfort you. you pulled away, seeing that it was peter before he pulled you into his arms. you sobbed, frightened about your uncle.

peter didn’t say anything, but he held you as you trembled under his touch. too scared to let go of you.

requested tagged: @captainlarsonn @mavelfanatic @winterwolf0916 @cotton-octopus @ all the anons who wanted it :)

tagged list: @tomshufflepuff @behxndthemask @tsukishiromiki @i-love-superhero @scorpiostunner1027 @queensholland@lostamongstthecosmos @feeling-straange @lauren2408@kaitlynthehuman @cutehollands @zpidey-sense @maggie-starz@heyrogers  @peterparkeroos @stephie-senpai @lol-you-thought@cutie1365 @avengersgirllorianna  @hista-girl @casualprincess77@keithseabrook27 @tomhollandsmouthfr0g @wtfholland @dark-night-sky-99 @wowitstonystark @no-aaaahhhh @sskidizzle @sholla4-314 @awshucks-ace @httpmcrvel @peterparkers-waffles@casuallifexcreativesoul @inspiredbynewt @chennyetomlinson @pvnk-bivch @iaiabear @spidey-pal @lovelyh0lland @spicygrethan @woah-jess@embrace-themagic @annahollanddd @savethebabyseals @sighspidey@spideyyypeter @yourwonderbelle  @organicmillie @ravynnn-12 @nichu@valkyries-bi @superserumstark @iamgabriellelambert @utsoftie@mischiefmanaged49 @paradoxparker @sdrecsfics @solarspidey@randomfandom3599 @quicksoldier @notunlimited @smexylemony@captainbuckyy @ashely313-blog @tom-hollands-eyelash@slytherinholland @tomsobriens @delicately-written @kiggys-newblog@aoonai @babylsn @musicgirl234 @tomhollandandmarvelsworld@shortieminn @lushparkers @sweetenedangeltears @gopnista@jackiehollanderr @purple-ash27 @tomsmelanin @tsukimi-ackerman@the-queen-procrastinator @estillion14

[idealisticrealism]

Blindspot recap 2x14

(Aka the one with Rich and the secret society) 

Aaaah okay so I have had basically zero available time to do this review and this is the latest I’ve ever gotten it posted (still before the new episode though so at least there’s that) but please to not assume my lateness is reflective of my feelings for this ep because honestly my love for it knows no bounds

So if you have time before the new ep, see below the cut for a lot of screaming over Rich haha

Okay firstly let's not talk about how old I was in 2001 and how very NOT college-aged I was because that would make my gigantic crush on Rich just a little awkward haha. But omg this scene. The music and the remote control car with the laser and their OUTFITS omg and okay I desperately need to know what is going on with that goatee situation bc it looks so wrong and I don't know if that's just because I'm used to the beautiful beard or what. Given the time it would take him to grow that beard back, have they literally just put a prosthetic over his actual beard to make it look like unshaven skin?? I need to know. Hell, I’m gonna ask Ennis, he'll probably tell me lol. Tbh that guy has gotta be sick of seeing my name on his twitter notifications by now haha. But also lbr I kinda have a hard time believing Rich (or Gord, rather) didn't get straight A's anyway? I mean he's a genius, after all. Though I guess he had other, cooler things to spend his time on rather than study. Probably involving more lasers. And then aaaahhh they're caught (lbr those outfits are a crime in themselves haha) and while I didn't expect Rich's charm (lol, if it can be called "charm") to work on cops (or campus security?) literally who the hell tasers someone just for being irritating?? I assume that was a bit of artistic licence bc a cop would get strung up for doing that here. Plus you cannot tell me that Rich wouldn't have had lawyers (or law student friends, idk) all over that. But anyhow.

Reade. Dude. Get your shit together, because you're a damn mess. And so is your apartment, since you and your lil drug honey have apparently trashed the place. And now you're gonna be late to work, again? Ugh. He needs to grow a set and tell Nikki to leave and stay gone. Maybe he should get Tasha to do it since she's clearly got more balls than he does...

Speaking of being a mess, here's my poor baby Weller, who is messed up for a slightly more legitimate reason (or a myriad thereof). And so wait, a whole weekend has passed since the last ep? So Weller's only just telling Jane and Nas now? What was he doing this whole time? Maybe he was having a bender of his own in his apartment... but ugh Jane is immediately reassuring and tells him it's not his fault and that there was nothing he could do. Because she's nothing if not a supportive wifey. (Wait maybe he already told Jane over the weekend and he’s just telling Nas for the first time now. It’s possible so I’m running with it haha). Anyway he's clearly torn up about it though and you can tell his ~THING~ with Shepherd is building into what's going to be an epic arch-nemesis showdown at the end of the season. But for now, Nas has magically conjured some property records for 'Ellen Briggs', including places in Wisconsin, Maryland, North Carolina, Florida, Colorado, and New Jersey. That's a decent number of states to have lived in?? Though I guess the whole army thing involves a fair bit of shifting around. With this new info, though, they can send Jane and Roman to the places and see if they trigger any memories, since they might have lived at some of them too. Which is kind of a bummer because it means that Jane's gonna be off with Roman and Nas and isn't gonna get to hang with her buddy Rich much :( 

Ooooh update: Ennis answered me, apparently they saved the '2001' scene for the end of filming, then shaved his usual beard down to the chin beard. Tbh I am personally offended by the murdering of that beautiful beard but he assures me it lives again now haha

Anyway back to the case, Patterson has just interrupted (which is perfectly acceptable/even welcomed whenever Nas is in the room) to say there's a tattoo they need to see. And ugh Weller's reaction is the sweetest, going all concerned big bro and telling her she should be at home. But by the look of things, she had the weekend off, which is a pretty good effort for her? And ugh she saw a doctor who cleared her medically but it's clear that she still needs to be checked out psychologically and ughhhh my baby I hate that this has happened to you. But anyhow because Patterson's a genius, she'd already figured out that the tattoo contained an equation which, for reasons that I am not smart enough to comprehend, would solve itself today and somehow involve Lithium and a secret society at Jameson College called Daedalus. Of course Rich went to a college that shares a name with one of my favourite alcoholic beverages. And again we have a perfect moment where Zapata gets to shine, explaining who Daedalus was and then adds "stop looking at me like that when I know things". Damn straight, Reade, show your awesome partner some more respect. She's a smart lady. And then he makes a joke about the college kids maybe mixing lithium with jager and doing shots and lbr Reade with your newfound proclivities you don’t really get to judge anyone for what they put in their body. But anyhow Patterson brings up a list of the Daedalus members, and who else appears on it but Gord Enver, aka Rich DotCom. The team manage impressively well at suppressing their groans-- though lbr, Weller was actually pretty quick to say that they needed to bring Rich in. He didn't even look for alternatives. Like sure, Rich does like to talk, an he has a soft spot for the team, but... aw Weller, were you missing your hairy homie?? 

Okay Rich has been onscreen for all of a second and I already can't deal with this. The others all there awaiting him like some kind of royal welcoming committee-- and he definitely ACTS like returning royalty. I'm so intrigued to know if his newfound religion(s) was just a spur of the moment thing when he heard he was going back to the FBI-- maybe he was like "hmmm how can I annoy them even more than usual" and then turned to his cellmates or whoever and was like ‘hey I need to borrow your stuff’ lol. Or maybe he'd just been bored in prison and the library was fairly limited? Either way literally everyone's faces here are precious, especially Jane, who I think tends to be more perplexed by Rich than anything else (probably because she knows she shouldn't like him but does). Speaking of faces, Weller's "hurry the hell up you idiot" face as Rich is praying in the interview room-- which looks like a very fun version of praying-- is priceless. Rich freaking ending his prayer with 'bless this mess' earned my first shriek-laugh of the episode, followed closely by the second when Weller asked for help and he answered 'say no more' and gracefully slid the bible/Koran (can’t see which) across the table. Honestly as much as I love all the characters on this show, Rich is always gonna be a special case for me. I just adore this little shit. Speaking of which, he's refusing to help on grounds that he's already busy investigating ‘the spiritual plane’ and ugh everyone here knows he's gonna help them, that he WANTS to help them, but he can never make things easy. Weller tries threats, Nas tries insulting him (you have much to learn Nas, lol) whereas Jane just gets straight to the point, showing him the formula and the tattoo on her back, knowing it will shock him free of his play act. (Though I love that he throws in "let he who is without sin..." to Weller when Weller is getting judgy. You know, he has a point weller, you aren't exactly innocent either buddy) Also omg "Oh Gott im Himmel" Aaaahhhh Rick speaking German is an instant favourite thing for me. Two things I love combined haha. And good lord, there is too much to love about this scene. Weller's "I'm already distressed" (possibly the most truthful thing he's ever said), Rich trying to cross himself with cuffs on then quoting Matthew '24:7', then getting to ominously foretell an impending war.... please make him a regular, writers, I need it

And then ugh yes we're in the bullpen which means Rich interacting with the rest of the team (while Jane rolls her eyes at him in the background lol). Patterson explains-- with interruptions from Rich, naturally-- that lithium is getting super pricey so technically it would be cheaper to invade another country (by deliberately starting a war with a fake terrorist attack) and steal theirs. They just don't know which country, or who's planning it. Tasha catches on first which is funny bc she's actually often the one most... in tune?... with Rich. She tends to be able to cut through his bullshit to the bottom line of a matter and I think he digs that about her. Also Weller is having trouble pronouncing Daedalus correctly haha. But anyhow Rich points them towards a guy called Zack Riley, who was one of the guys who broke into the college with him back in the day and who Patterson seems to have a little geek-crush on. Which Rich is not at all pleased about-- maybe he's worried about losing his spot as their favourite (term used loosely) billionaire computer genius lol.

And then what's this?? Rich insists they need Boston too, since he's also a member of Daedalus and can help.  Mmmhmm, I'm sure that's the reason, and not that Rich is trying to win him back haha, since these two definitely seem to be in the middle of a spat. But even better than Rich and Boston's relationship is that of Patterson and Boston-- the moment she walks in and sees him she literally makes an "Ughhhhh" sound. Oh my precious little supergenius sassmaster nemeses, this is gonna be gooood. And so it turns out there just happens to be an Alumni event on at Jameson right now that will be the cover for a secret Daedalus meeting, and since they already have two members, why not sneak in? I love that the conversation immediately gets derailed by Boston and Rich bickering ("how many times do I have to say I'm sorry??" "ONE time!" omg) before Weller tells them they'll be taking dates. And ugh Boston is being all belligerent like he's not going to help them and then bam Weller tells him he can have him transferred to a prison near LA so his parents can visit him more easily, and ugh he didn't have to do that. He could have made threats, like he made to Rich, but instead he recognised a way that he could make Boston's life better and offered it to him. Ugh my baby. Rich doesn't need any threats or bonuses; though he says he'll do it for spiritual reasons, as always, he's totally in it for the game. (And secretly for his love of the team and wanting them to approve of him)

Ughhhh Weller and Jane having their own private little conference in the corner of the lab (while Rich and Patterson fight over the touchscreen thing like siblings, which was all apparently ad-libbed and I'm delighted about it) and ugh Jane wants to stay and be with the team in case they need her but Weller asks her to go with Nas and Roman to the houses instead, because getting a lead on Shepherd is his biggest priority but he can't do this, only she can, so he's relying on her. And she recognises that, which is why she agrees to go (but before she does he grips her arm and looks at her with those expressive eyes and ughhh look at these two being a unit againnnnn). Then mom heads off while dad stays with the kids, assigning Patterson to Boston-- it's hard to tell who's less pleased about it, but I'm in love with Patterson's comic-con line (particularly since I met Ashley at Comic Con last year). And then omg "Rich, you take Tasha" "Which one's Tasha?" hahaha cmon, like you don't know, Rich. You love giving her as much shit as she gives you. You two are practically buds. But he's right, she's really not his type. There's only one person in the FBI who is (I'm excluding Jane from this because I don't think he considers her to be FBI). Though tbh I think even if Jane had been there as an option Rich would have still chosen Weller just for the fun of making him uncomfortable lol. 

And so this episode gives us one of the greatest gifts of the show so far: Weller and Rich, out on a date. Which so far has entailed Rich 'helping' Weller out of the car, and Weller informing him that he has just drunk water with a tracking isotope in it so he can't escape them. I love the "You are so controlling... Why do I keep coming back to you" because he really doeessss. He keeps coming back. And well, Weller is a control freak haha. Oh but the real brilliance comes from the other pair, Patterson ignoring Boston's politely extended hand as she gets out of the car and then implies that he and Rich broke up because Boston's 'the worst person ever' and ughhh I love the antagonistic relationship between these two. At least they can get through the door, though, whereas Rich and Weller are turned back due to something Rich did to piss someone off in the past. And Rich is all "Oh well. Hey let's go check out the carnival!" like this is a real date and ugh he is the cutest??? Literally how can anyone not love this man. Instead, to his disappointment, Weller makes him find a way to sneak in-- aka though old hallways/tunnels that he used to use to sneak in hookers. And then they have a ~moment~ as they bond over their mutual prankster school days. Well, at least Rich thinks they're having a moment. Weller just has slightly less heat in his voice when he tells him to shut up. Then they get to the door, which no longer has a handle, so Weller kicks it open. Literally kicks it off its hinges, in fact, and while I know Weller is strong, that was a VERY solid old door. No way its hinges would give like that. But anyhow luckily no one was on the other side of that door, because they'd be out for the count right now. And after such a dramatic entrance, security is immediately onto them-- but then an old friend vouches for Rich and sends away the guards-- before looking properly at Weller with what can only be described as a 'hubba hubba' gaze. Rich promptly introduces him as his HUSBAND Kurt Enver (*shriek laugh*) and lays his head on his shoulder. Weller valiantly tries to roll with it, but the other guy is like ‘nope, this guy's got hooker written all over him' and oh Weller, I bet you never expected to find yourself in a situation where you'd prefer to be Rich's husband??? And then they talk about his burly arms and how the other guy would 'back that stallion' and calls him a meat trophy and omggggg there is nothing I love more than hypermasculine men experiencing what it's constantly like for women to be treated like sex objects by other men. Although lbr I think Weller's enjoying this a tiny bit bc he didn't have to smile at all during that conversation-- he could have just stood there all strong and impassive-- but he was practically grinning and ugh this is the beeeessssst. Also he then talks to Zapata and Reade over the comms and man I hope they heard that whole conversation because that would make my day. Btw as a sidenote, they say that the party guest that tried to keep Rich out had a pharmaceutical company that raised the cancer drug prices by like 1000%. And again, this show is totally unafraid to pull things from the current news and pass judgement on them... 

Shepherd lived in Robinhood lane? I bet she picked it because she felt she was a Robin Hood that was helping the poor by taking down the rich. And lol Nas wants to go inside to see if it triggers anything for them and Jane is all 'what if it's a trap' and Nas goes 'With you two? I'll take my chances.' And wow that's the first likable thing she's said in a long time. Tbh she's right, too-- if I had to be ambushed, I'd want to have the mayhem twins there to protect me haha. But ugh Roman and Jane are unable to believe they could have grown up in such a normal looking place rather than like a barracks or something and it's so sad? And then Roman gets so upset because he can't remember anything and when Jane says 'I know how you feel' (which she does tend to say a lot) he yells 'then why don't you FEEL it??" and ugh damn Luke just SELLS all of Roman's emotions and I'm just so impressed with how good he is. But He has a point-- Jane doesn't feel what he feels, and that's partly because she's had time to adjust (she was definitely very upset in early S1) but also she knows things that he doesn't know. She has answers, and that makes a huge difference. I love that even when he gets aggressive, Jane doesn't back away-- she moves closer, speaking gently to him. She just wants to soothe him, but it's not possible, not when he's still missing so much of himself. And definitely won't be possible when it's revealed that she zipped him, because mannnn does he wanna kill Shepherd for that, so thing are gonna get really ugly when he leans the truth.   

WELLER INSTIGATES THE DANCING. I REPEAT, WELLER INSTIGATES THE DANCING. AaaaaaahhhhHHHHHH. Rich is craning his neck trying to see who their target is talking to and Weller is the one to pull him onto the dancefloor so they can surreptitiously (term used loosely since they're a little distinctive) move closer. I love these two, and I love that Weller's letting himself 'loosen up' a little. Tbh I think a part of him does actually like Rich. It helps that Sully and Ennis get along so well because they are just totally able to sell all their interactions ugh. Then they head up to the office to find the target's hidden laptop, and Rich monologues about the guy having stolen something from him, but in doing so practically set him on the path to being Rich DotCom. But think about that, Rich-- if he'd never wronged you, sure you could maybe be a rich famous computer wiz like him, but you would have never gotten to work with this team or meet your 'husband' Weller, or be here playing super spy right now.... so maybe he did you a favour?

Alone in the van, Zapata and Reade finally have a moment to talk, and she calls him out on not being himself today. Thankfully he doesn't just brush it off like he did a few days ago-- I think he's recognised that he needs to get out of the quicksand pit he's in but he can't do it on his own. So he tells Zapata, who he knows won't stand for it. And she won't; she's pissed and incredulous that he would be stupid enough to date (term also used loosely) the ex of the murderer who he helped to flee the city. Weller interrupts their conversation but I'm at least comforted by the fact that Zapata won't let this go. She will get Reade back onto the straight and narrow even if it means camping on his couch and sending away anyone that knocks on the door, dammit

While Rich and Weller find the laptop, Patterson and Boston are trying to figure out how to get the password off the key fob that the target carries with him at all times. After a bit of sniping, Boston has an idea, and grabs Patterson's hand to pull her over to the guy and introduces her as the love of his life, which confuses the guy (I loved his "I thought you were...", though hey cmon, bisexuality can exist, buddy). And lol Patterson is gushing over him which isn't completely fake? Like she did seem like a fan earlier. But meanwhile Boston has picked his pocket and shows her the code over the guy's shoulder, and of course she memorises the dozen or so digits in a moment and then is like 'okay great to meet you byyeeeee' haha before telling Weller the password over the comms. Nice work, team. Except for some reason the guards are suddenly headed their way, which is unfortunate. I do love the parallel to the hacking at the start, where Rich is on the computer and the person with him is like 'we gotta go!'-- and like that time, they get completely busted. And then when Zack (their target) comes in, Weller's about to reveal himself (not in the way Rich would enjoy) but Rich speaks over him, convincing Zack that he was there to steal back the software that he created and which made Zack rich. But omg I’m in love with his shouty voice and the fact his middle name is Meredith and Weller's FACE (literally this look of shock needs to be a reaction gif because it's AMAZING), but lol it all totally works, and Zack sends away the guards and apologises to Rich that he feels that way but makes it clear that he didn't steal anything-- they developed it together and he asked Rich to join him to complete it but Rich stayed to finish college, taking the 'safe way out', and you can see ffrom Rich's face that it's true. And okay Rich said earlier that nobody likes a prequel but seriously I would watch a whole movie about this backstory. For real, show, give it to me now. But anywho turns out their target isn't actually their target after all-- he no longer has any reason to need lots of lithium as he sold that part of his company-- and then he even offers Rich a spot on his team. Naww Rich wants to beat him up and it’s adorable

Aw Jane brings Roman and Nas back to her place to give Roman a chance to settle himself beore they look at any other places. Ugh she's such the caring big sister, getting him water and trying to soothe him and making Nas give him some space. She's so cute and self-conscious about her safehouse (still feel weird about her being back in the same one, given the bad memories of That Night) and he throws back that at least her doors can open when she wants-- and she tells him that they didn't always. Roman's situation is tough because I can see how much it would suck to be locked up and treated pretty much like a prisoner, but at the same time I'm just like 'please be patient, they're trying to trust you' and ughhh it just sucks for everyone involved. And then he seems to try to settle himself, and looks around, noticing the frickin huge bouquet of roses on the table beside the couch. He asks who Oliver is, which means she hasn't talked to Roman about him yet, which is kinda disappointing-- I want her to tell him all about Oliver and Weller and her feelings and I want him to be a confidante for her (and to help her realise that Weller is still the one she wants lol). And then the flowers trigger a memory-- he's in a flower van watching Weller and a dark hairded woman having lunch, and sends a text that says the target (Weller?) is in sight, and gets one back from shepherd telling him to proceed. Aaaaahhhh but with whaaaatttt

So their target isn't Zack, but it's still someone within Daedalus. Patterson uses a camera hidden in a makeup thingie to send video back to 'lenny and squiggy' in the van-- who can also apparently hear her and Boston's conversation, meaning they can hear him complaining endlessly abut Rich but also hear her blow up at him about all the things she went through with Borden and David and ugh my baby has been holding that in for so long. And then lol 'you feel better?' 'kinda'. I love that Boston was the one to be able to help her in a way that no one else had been able to, because while they were gently trying to coax her feelings out of her he just set off a mini explosion which finally let her breathe once it was off her chest. And then by moving back to his problems he shifts the focus off her. I love these twoooo ugh

Meanwhile Rich is also more focused on his own problems-- in his case, acknowledging that he did chicken out and give up on the software in order to finish his degree. But dammit I need more backstory here-- were there other reasons he stayed behind? A mother who desperately wanted to see her son finish college? An elderly grandparent that he was the carer for and couldn't just move to silicone valley and leave them behind? Weller tries to get him to refocus but instead Rich is the one trying to make HIM see clearly-- "don't waste your life on missions. You grab Jane now before somebody else does (...)" and ugh Weller's face. His mouth moves like he's trying to find the words to deny it all and tell Rich to shut up but he knows Rich is hitting the mark. He still wants Jane even though he knows how much he shouldn't. I wish we'd gotten to hear what he would have said in response to that, but then we're interrupted by the beginning of ~the ritual~. And then omg here's another shriek laugh as he says "this better not be a sex thing" and Rich replies "if it is we should probably go along with it right? Don't wanna blow our cover" and omggggg the look Weller gives him. I love these two SO MUCH. I decided to name them ‘Welch’ (I've seen WelCom around which is good too). Ennis approved of Welch tho so I'm sticking to it haha. 

Meanwhile Patterson and Boston managed to avoid being stuck inside for the ritual and are currently sneaking somewhere, and she gives him shit about ‘Boston Arliss Crabb’ being his real name-- she'd thought it was an alias like Rich's, but while everyone here knew Rich as Gord, Boston was just Boston-- and he retorts that she can't talk when her first name is.... aaaand she interrupts him because she sees someone up ahead. Dammit, writers, you're so cruel. Just tell us her name!! Clearly it must be something either quite unusual OR something totally whitebread and boring, since he's judging her for it. Personally I've always stuck with Tiffany, just because I like the thought of her having a super girly name (and one that does seem to get unfairly associated with being an airhead). 

Anyhow Weller and Rich try to leave to go join them to follow this guy, but the guards block their way--- so Weller kicks both their asses and steals one's gun, before heading for the exit with Rich in tow. I love the guy that pipes up "Oh you're definitely banned now, Gord" to which Rich throws back "Oh, suck it, Phineas." Which will now and forever be my new insult hahaha. And then I love the clever little aside "What's wrong with rich people?" "We get bored". Yep, that explains a lot of things happening in the world, doesn't it? Anyway mystery guy heads into another building, pursued by Patterson and Boston (though Boston pauses briefly to admire some art outside) and they step into the deserted building-- only to find him right there waiting for them. They try to talk their way out of it (cue another shriek-laugh at Boston’s "We came in here to have sex with each other" and Patterson’s little "Oh") but unfortunately their acting isn't that great haha. Their fighting is pretty good though-- Patterson takes on the guy with a gun while in heels and wielding just a crowbar, while Boston valiantly tackles the other guy and risks those delicate artist's hands to punch him in the face multiple times. Weller calls for Reade and Zapata, then tells Rich to hold out a hand-- Rich gets all excited thinking he's gonna get a gun, whereas I am inexplicably expecting them to just hold hands-- but instead we're both disappointed as Weller cuffs Rich to the art sculpture out front. But ugh he does it to protect him because he knows he's about to be running into a firefight and doesn't want to put Rich at risk??? Awww my babies do care about each other. I love the subtle nod to gun safety that Rich makes as Weller runs off too. No one can ever say this show isn't at least a little political. But omg Weller gets in there to help but Patterson and Boston have pretty much got it sorted, with her stomping on her guys hand in her heels to get his gun and Boston knocking out his guy with a can of paint. The grin and thumbs up that they share is the MOST ADORABLE thing ever. Are they friends now because I would be so happyyyyy

Outside, Rich's friend from the party finds him cufffed to the sculpture, jokingly asking 'a little trouble with your date?' which lbr is not that far off. But then poor Rich makes the mistake of being honest (that never works out well, bro, you know that) and admits to working with the FBI-- then immediately knows he's about to get a gun pulled on him since he's just found the bad guy. Who does pull out a gun, but just shoots the cuffs to free him, and can I just say I totally called it that Rich has a very girlish scream lol. Thankfully the guy 'needs him alive' for whatever reason so we're safe for now. He also knows that he's Rich Dot Com oooohhhh plot twistttt

Jane and Roman and Nas have found the restaurant where Roman was watching weller. In a strange display of trust (has Nas given Roman some of that tracker water too? I bet she has) she walks off to check in with Weller, leaving Jane and Roman alone-- conveniently meaning that if he has another flash, Jane will be the only one to witness it. Which he does-- he sees a couple hugging in the doorway (they look a lot like one of the couples that was dancing near Weller and Rich actually... same extras?) and then remembers Weller hugging the woman before she got in her car and Roman crashed into her with the van before smothering her. Okay firstly how do you have a crash in the middle of NYC in daytime and then SMOTHER the victim without anyone seeing?? And secondly that kind of asphyxiation leaves evidence such as finger bruises around the mouth-- she wouldn't even need an autopsy to note that. And thirdly oh my godddd she died on the way back from meeting Weller, which means he would have absolutely blamed himself, like 'If only we had met soemwhere else or picked a different day or if I had done this or that differently’ uuughhhhhh my poor babyyyyy why must he suffer so muchhhhhhh

And ugh Roman immediately tells Jane that he killed Weller's friend Emma (ugh in the memory he soothes Emma, telling her it's okay, and ugh thi is awful for everyone involved) and Jane is so horrified that they both had ties to Emma's death, since Emma would have known that Jane wasn't Taylor. And ugh my precious Roman wants to tell Nas straight away, which shows he's already a better person than he was before the wipe-- but Jane won't let him. She's protecting him from Nas and from repercussions of what he did, but she's also protecting Weller from getting this news abruptly thrust upon him. She promises that she'll tell him, and god I hope she will...

Poor Rich is being forced to hack into a computer at gunpoint, in order to open some kind of thing that gets them the stuff they need for a dirty bomb. The bombing itself will be blamed on the poor dead Bolivian guy lying on the floor in the corner-- and so the team is proved right, someone was trying to start a war between the US and another country. Rich is adorably doing his best to talk the guy out of it, saying that the FBI knows the truth and that he'll be caught, but the guy says that once there's been an attack on their own soil, "the truth isn't gonna matter". Wow, again with the politics. This show packs a very subtle punch. And omg Rich is still refusing because he may be a criminal but he doesn't hurt people (generally. I know he did kill that guy in 1x09 but shhhh) and then the baddie SHOOTS HIM IN THE FOOT. Oh Richy my baby, you don't deserve this. Thankfully the team will soon be to your rescue, bc they're tracking you right now (they think you went on the run, so disrespectful of them) and they also found a key thing from the campus lab-- which the tracker says is where Rich is, plus the baddie, whose phone they tracked. Of course hubby immediately jumps to the rescue, finding Rich while the other are still searching. Then omg the baddie grabs Rich and threatens Weller that his 'buddhist friend will get his third eye' and of course Rich has to correct him that that's actually a Hindu thing and both of them yell for him to shut up haha. But ugh baddie is using Rich as a shield and Weller apologises and says he can't let him get away, and Rich is all ‘uh that's okay, why are you apologising’--  and then bam Weller shoots him in the leg, causing him to drop and leaving the baddie exposed, who immediately surrenders (bc lbr, if a guy is willing to shoot a member of his own team, he'll sure as hell shoot you). Weller immediately calls for an ambulance for Rich though, so at least there's that. And lol Rich still manages to give him a jibe about being too obsessed with the movie Speed, which is a cool throwback and is just overall really cute and ugh these two

Nawwww Patterson and Boston deciding maybe they don't totally hate each other after all. And then she sees him looking at the nameplate on the sculpture-- he'd actually made it, back in 2001. I can't quite see how it represents 'Wind through the pines' but then I'm much more of an impressionist fan than a contemporary/abstract fan. But aw she calls him talented and asks how he became a criminal and he looks at Rich and says he followed his heart. Naaawww I ship itttt     

Awwww Mom and Dad visiting their lil boy in hospital. Such a brave boy. And omg Jane is such a sassmaster: "Redemption is its own reward" ahahahahahaaaa oh man I love their relationship. But lbr, there's totally gonna be a knock on Rich's door sometime soon and a nurse will come in and give him a little package that was dropped off for him, and he’ll open it to find a little plastic medal with HERO stamped on the front and he will cherish it FOREVER. Also lol when she pats his thigh does he say "geeez that's close?" aka being mildly sexual or am I just mishearing him saying “geez that hurts”? But then just as mom and dad are about to leave him all alone in the big scary hospital, he entices them with solving another tattoo, revealing that he knows exactly what they're up to-- which is fascinating?? Does he know why they're trying to solve them? How far does his knowledge go?? Will this turn out to be one of those things where someone could have found out all the answers they were seeking just by asking the right person? (like Weller showing Jane the yearbook that led them to Shepherd's real name?) And then ughhhh he only asks for Boston to be moved to minimum security. This guy is too cute sometimes. Also lol "I'm here every other week" yaaaasss please come back every week lol. I love that they've set him up to come back, ugh thank you writers

Oooh Patterson's read up on Dr Sun, apparently she was present in Nas's team at the NSA when the Sandstorm mole was revealed, had even expressed concerns about the person herself. But that doesn't mean we should trust her! Dr Sun is almost as shady as Nas is, definitely do not tell her ANYTHING. 

Lol Reade, coming home to a clean, empty apartment is a GOOD thing. Tell you what's not a good thing? Cocaine!! Gawd man what are you dooooooinggggggg. You need to see someone abput this self-destructive behaviour (not Dr Sun though) before you combust!

Awww Jeller strolling through the corridors together, joking about Patterson and Rich, being all super cute... and then he asks about Roman and she clams up. NO JANE NO. YOU KNOW WHAT LYING LEADS TO, PLEASE LEARN YOUR LESSON AND TELL HIM BEFORE HE FINDS OUT SOME OTHER WAY. YOU'RE ALREADY IN THIS SAME PREDICAMENT WITH ROMAN, DON'T BOX YOURSELF IN ON ALL SIDES UGHHHHH. Seriously honey you need to go to his apartment later with more beers, sit him down and tell him everything. He's not the same out-of-control guy that arrested you, I swear. Ughh. But ugh then he admits he actually kinda maybe enjoyed spending the day with Rich (oh how Rich would weep with joy to hear that) and then they bond over the fact that Weller got to shoot him, something they have all low-key (or high-key) wanted to do since the moment they met him haha. And ugh this is such a cute little jokey moment (remember when they couldn't even bear to look at each other and now there's heart eyes everywhere again ughhhh) and lbr Weller might even have been about to offer to get some drinks or something when they are-- as always-- interrupted, this time by a text from Oliver. Which in a way I'm happy about because it led to the casually awkward (or awkwardly casual) little exchange about her going on a date and gave Weller the opportunity to realise he doesn't really like the idea of Jane being out on dates with people who aren't him. Bet Rich’s warning is ringing in your ears now, huh buddy??

Oh I forgot this scene even existed. Apparently Nas and Weller can't figure out what the Truman protocol is, other than there might have been some meetings in the 40s. And then woahhhh here's a twist with the next scene: Borden is working with that Zack Riley guy, who is apparently a key player in Sandstorm's Phase Two! Boom. Hope this means Rich can come back and engage in some kind of hack-war with him to defuse the missile....      

Anyway phew done with like twenty mins to spare, time to get my livestream set up for today’s ep!