#then my friend got the NEW shuffle (the little square with the clip on the back) and I was so jealous XD

[capsteddybear]

Our Playlist: Candy - Cameo

Song lyric: **" You're like a brand new feeling, in a special way, A surprise package, On a bright clear sunny day."

You and Chris are unpacking all of the food and drinks you just bought from the store for your game night. Tonight you would be meeting some of Chris' friends. Okay not just friends, but his fellow co stars from the Avengers.

You let out a deep breathe, "Not gonna lie I'm kinda nervous about meeting everyone."

Chris stops unpacking and touches your hand, "there's no reason to be. I love you and they will too." He kisses your cheek and continues unpacking the food. You put all of the drinks and beer in the fridge while Chris sets up the snacks on the coffee table. You guys then get games from the hallway closet and place them on the coffee table. You also bring out one of your portal white boards to keep score and to maybe play pictionary.

The doorbell rings and Chris takes your hand, "they're here." You take a deep breath as you're walking to the door and Chris squeezes your hand, "hey, it's gonna be fine" and kisses you on the cheek. You smile and Chris opens the front door. The first person you see is Anthony Mackie.

"Heeeey!" Chris and Anthony exchange hugs and Chris introduces you. "Anthony, this is (y/n). (Y/n) this is Anthony."

You shake his hand, "nice to meet you."

"Pleasure is all mine. You're more beautiful than Chris described."

You blush at his comment, "thank you."

"Hey stop flirting with the poor girl, she's already taken." You turn around and see Scarlett.

You laugh, "Hi Scarlett."

"Hi, it's (y/n), right?" You shake hands.

"Yeah."

"Nice to meet you. And ignore Anthony's flirty comments." She gives him a playfully punch on the shoulder. She greets Chris with a hug, "hi Chris."

"Hi Scarlett."

Next to walk in is Sebastian Stan and Chris Hemsworth.

"This is Sebastian and this is the other Chris. Guys, this is (y/n)."

"Hi (y/n), nice to meet you" Sebastian shakes your hand.

"Nice to meet you."

"Hi, other Chris" you laugh as you shake his hand.

"Please, feel free to call me Hemmy. There'll be less confusion."

You smile, "Alright, Hemmy it is."

Chris closes the front door as everyone takes a seat in the living room, "you guys want a beer or something to drink?"

Everyone including you answers yes in unison. Chris laughs and heads to the kitchen to grab some beers for everyone.

Anthony scoots to the edge of the couch and clips his hands together, "Alright, so what's the first game we're gonna play? I came here to win!"

Scarlett points to the white board, "let's start off easy, how about some pictionary?"

Sebastian answers, "sounds good. Who's on what team?"

"Well I would say boys versus girls, but we're outnumbered" Scarlett replies.

"I'll be the better man and join you ladies," Hemmy raises his hand.

Chris walks back into the living room with everyone's drinks, "so did we decide what we're starting with?"

You answer, "yeah, pictionary. And you're on the loser team with Sebastian and Anthony" you give Chris a smirk and everyone laughs.

"Oh, starting the trash talking early aren't we?" Anthony asks.

"Of course." You smile at Anthony.

"Alright let's start. Our team goes first." Anthony grabs a marker from the table and a card with the subject on it.

You grab the sand timer from the table, "Okay you got 30 seconds to draw. Ready? Go!" You flip it over and the sand starts to flow. Everyone's attention is on Anthony as he starts to draw. He starts with a stick figure standing on some sort of board.

Chris and Sebastian start yelling out their guesses.

"Surfer!"

"Surfing!"

Anthony shakes his head. He adds dots around the stick figure.

"What the fuck is that???" Chris shouts.

Everyone starts laughing. Anthony then draws pine trees.

"Snowboarding?"

"Snowboarder?"

Anthony then draws an arrow to the board.

"Snowboard!" Sebastian stands up and yells.

"Oh my God finally" Anthony says.

"Wait, hang on, what are the dots?" Chris points to the picture, "are those supposed to snowflakes? That's not how you draw snowflakes, man."

"whatever, we got the point."

Anthony takes a seat back on the couch and Scarlett is the first to go from your team. Sebastian flips the timer and Scarlett begins to the draw. She first draws a big mouth with teeth showing. You and Hemmy begin guessing.

"Smile!"

"Teeth."

She then draws a toothbrush.

"Toothbrush!"

She adds bubbles around the toothbrush.

You point to the board and shout, "toothpaste!"

"Yes!" Scarlett runs up to you and gives you a high five.

Sebastian is up next. You flip the timer and he begins drawing. First he draws a t-shirt and pants.

"Clothes!"

"Outfit!"

Sebastian then adds a bed.

"Pajamas!?" Chris yells.

Sebastian nods his head, "Yeeeeeah." He gives Chris and Anthony fist bumps before taking a seat. It's now Hemmy's turn to draw. Chris flips the time and he starts. He draws a circle with a little leaf on the top.

"An apple!"

"A tomato.

He then draws a bottle.

"Apple juice?"

"Apple cider!"

Hemmy shakes his head and quickly draws a hotdog and a squiggly line on it and points to it.

You stand up and shout, "ketchup!"

Hemmy points to you and everyone busts out laughing. Hemmy gives you a high five and passes the marker to Chris. He grabs a card and he waits for you to flip the timer to begin drawing.

Chris starts with a big square.

"Picture frame."

"TV."

Chris laughs and draws a couple of fish.

"A fish tank!"

"Finding Nemo?"

Chris shakes his head and continues drawing. He draws stick figures.

"Scuba diving!"

"Deep sea divers!"

Chris shakes his head again and adds a whale, but the timer runs out.

"Time!!!" Scarlett shouts.

Chris groans, "damn it."

"Was it an aquarium?" Sebastian asks.

"Yeah." Chris answers. He puts his head down and walks over to you and hands you the marker. You give him a pouty face and pat him on the shoulder as you walk by. Sebastian flips the timer and you start drawing.

"Balloon!"

"Hot air balloon"

You then add a stick figure to the bottom of the balloon.

"Skydiving"

"Sky diver."

You draw an arrow to the balloon part of your drawing.

"A parachute!" Hemmy yells.

"Yes!" You run up to your teammates and give a high five.

You guys play a couple more rounds. Your team has been in the lead by just 1 point. It's the last round and Chris' team needs to get this last drawing in order to win the game.

"Alright so who's gonna go for your team?"

"Uh we vote Sebastian to go."

Sebastian stands up and heads to the white board.

"Come on man you got this." Anthony roots.

You flip the timer and he starts drawing. Within a couple of seconds the game is over.

"Cat"

"Kitten!"

Sebastian quickly turns around bows.

"What the fuck? That was too easy." You yell.

Everyone cracks up.

Anthony leans over, "what did you say about the losing team earlier?"

You roll your eyes and stick out your tongue, "oh shush."

"What should we play next?" Scarlett asks.

Anthony quickly replies, "doesn't matter because I'm gonna win."

Sebastian grabs the deck of cards on the table, "Uno?"

You raise an eyebrow, "How about drunk uno? If you forget to shout out Uno when you're down to one card you gotta take a shot in addition to picking up cards."

Everyone nods, "sounds good."

You run to the kitchen to grab shot glasses and liquor from the cabinet while the rest of them clear off the coffee table and grab extra chairs from the dining room and sit around the table. Chris shuffles the cards and passes them out.

While you guys are playing they ask how you and Chris met. Chris explains how you met at the welcome home party. You smile and start to reminisce and forget to yell uno when you put your card down.

Sebastian quickly points to you and shouts, "uno! Take a shot."

"Ah shit, I got distracted."

Chris quickly turns to you and kisses your cheek, "sorry" he whispers.

You laugh and pour yourself a shot.

The game continues. During the game Hemmy and Anthony end up taking shots for forgetting to shout uno. Scarlett ends up winning the first game. Chris wins the second game even though he had to take 2 shots for not yelling uno the first two times. You were starting to think that the alcohol was helping him focus because he also won the next game. You guys play a few more rounds of uno before just lounging around the coffee table talking and drinking.

Chris and Anthony get up from their seats to go to the kitchen for more snacks.

You go to the bathroom while the others pick what game they wanna play next. When you come back from the bathroom the group has decided to play cards against humanity and are setting up the game. You head to the kitchen to tell Chris and Anthony to hurry up when you sneak up on them talking about you. You hide behind one of the pillars and listen in on their conversation.

"You seem really happy", Anthony says leaning against the kitchen counter.

Chris looks down and smiles, "I am, man. I really am", he takes a drink of his beer.

"She's perfect for you, man. She has the same humor as you."

He laughs, "Thanks. I love her so much."

Your eyes tear up a bit and you smile. You take a deep breath and come out from behind the pillar. "Hey guys, we're ready for the next game. Let's go." You walk up to Chris and wrap your arms around him. He notices your eyes are watery.

"You okay?"

"Uh yeah", you put your hand on his chest.

Chris smiles and kisses your forehead.

"Alright you love birds, let's go" Anthony buds in.

You guys head back to the living room and rejoin the rest of the group. During the rounds of Cards Against Humanity the group gets a real feel for the sense of humor you have. A dirty sense of humor to be exact because you win the first two games.

You guys play for a bit longer before calling it quits since its 3 o'clock in the morning. Once everyone has left, you and Chris attempt to clean up, but are distracted by each other. Every time you pass him he grabs you and kisses you.

You moan against his lips, "come on Chris, we gotta clean up. I don't wanna do it tomorrow morning."

He groans and kisses your forehead, "Okay fine, but as soon as we're done you're mine."

You guys continue cleaning up, but when you see Chris in the kitchen putting stuff away in the cupboard you sneak up behind him and wrap your arms around him. He jumps at your touch, "hey, what did you say earlier? Hands off til we're done."

"Yeah, I'm done" You kiss him on the cheek.

He points to the counter, "Okay but I'm not. I still need to put this stuff away."

You tickle his sides, "hurry up."

"Hey!" Chris quickly turns around and tries to tickle you, but you slip out of his reach and take off running down the hallway to your bedroom. "You're not getting away that easy."

Chris grabs you and you both fall onto the bed out of breath and laughing. He rolls you over so he's laying on top of you both of his arms on either side of you so he doesn't squish you. You run your hands up and down his forearms as he looks into your eyes. You both calm down from laughing. "Told you I'll catch you."

You bite your lip, "Now that you have me, what's next?"

"This." Chris leans down and starts kissing you. You moan against his lips. You wrap your arms around him to pull him closer. He kisses your neck, "I love you, (y/n)."

"I love you too."

You guys keep kissing each other before you push on Chris' chest.

"What's wrong?"

"I'm hot."

Chris laughs, "why yes you are."

You smile, "No, well thanks, but I meant you're making me hot."

Chris raises an eyebrow, "you're welcome."

You laugh, "goddamn it, that's not what I meant, Chris. Well in that category you are too, but I mean temperature hot." You tug at his jacket.

He looks down and laughs, "Oh." He sits on the edge of the bed and kicks off his shoes and starts taking off his jacket and shirt. When he turns back he sees you have taken off your shirt as well. He lays back on top of you. "Better?"

"Much better?" You wrap your arms around his back and kiss him. Chris' hands start to wander down your sides, but he feels you tense up and stops.

"Hey what's wrong?" He cups your face with his hand. You keep your eyes close and stay silent. Chris kisses you on the cheek. "(Y/n), what's wrong? Talk to me."

You open your eyes and let out a deep breath, "As much as I would love to have sex with you right now, I'm not ready yet... Sorry." Your eyes are watery so you look away.

Chris cups your face so you would look at him, "Hey, Don't be sorry. I'm more than okay with waiting." He kisses your cheek as a single tear rolls down. "I love you." He hugs you before rolling over and pulling you close to his chest.

"I love you too."

[calpalirwin]

Ocean Currents

A/N: Trying out a prompt from @creativepromptsforwriting​ in which “Person A doesn’t want to be rescued by Person B, because they’re a lifeguard themself, but at a swimming pool and to tell a fellow colleague that they misjudged the pull of the ocean is just too embarrassing” with a few tweaks.

Word Count: 1.7k

And away, and away we go!

__

Eyes hidden behind your sunglasses, you carefully watched the group of friends set up camp just to the left of where you were stationed. You didn’t let your gaze linger long, quickly sweeping it across the rest of the beach, but there wasn’t much to see. The water was extra choppy today, evidence of a storm expected to roll in in the next few days, so most families had cleared out hours ago, leaving just the most adventurous of surfers, most of whom were regulars you recognized.

But this new group wasn’t here to surf as out of all their belongings, there wasn’t a single surfboard. Friends looking to soak up some rays and frolic around in the shallows, you hoped, and with enough in their group, you weren’t expecting too much trouble. Until one of the men pulled off his shirt to lather himself in sunscreen. Broad and well-defined muscles in his back and shoulders you recognized as the trademark of a swimmer. Swimmers, you had come to learn, were fucking idiots. Overconfident in their abilities and a complete disregard for understanding that pools and oceans were vastly different beasts. Almost as dangerous as the negligent parent to a wandering small child with their sneered “Isn’t it your job to watch them as a lifeguard?” as if this was the local community pool rather than the literal fucking ocean.

Thankfully the idiotic parents had left for the safer waters of those said community pools, off to antagonize some other lifeguard, who was probably just some high school or college kid hoping to pick up girls and make a couple bucks. Leaving just the surfers, you, and Swimmer Boy and his friends. Well… at least he and his friends were easy on the eyes, each one looking like they belonged on the cover of a magazine. You actually laughed to yourself, deciding you wouldn’t be surprised in the slightest if a camera came out and a photoshoot ensued.

“Beautiful day out, ain’t it?” someone asked, and you turned to find Swimmer Boy staring up at you, shielding his eyes from the sun with one of his hands, giving you a nice view of the tattoos that decorated his skin.

“Always is right before a storm,” you replied.

“Oh, it’s supposed to storm? Damn…”

“Not today,” you assured him. “It’s a few days out.”

“Feel it in your bones?” he laughed, dimples indenting his cheeks.

“Ha-ha,” you deadpanned. “Do this long enough and you learn to notice the patterns, that’s all.”

“I see. Well, I’m Ashton, by the way.”

“Y/N.”

He opened his mouth to keep making conversation, but one of his friends came running up behind him, clapping his shoulder. “Stop flirting with the lifeguard, and let’s go! Hey, I’m Cal. Did this idiot at least tell you his name?”

You laughed as Ashton’s cheeks colored and he muttered something under his breath. “Nice to meet you both. Careful out there, alright?”

“If we’re careful, then you can’t rescue us,” Cal winked at you, walking backwards back towards the main group.

“Calum!” Ashton scolded, his cheeks now brick-red. “Sorry about him,” he offered you a quick apology before dashing off himself.

“Men…” you chuckled to yourself with a roll of your eyes.

~~~

Twenty minutes later, some of the surfers had called it quits for the day, but Ashton and his friends were still in the water, getting pushed around by the waves, the water only about up to mid-thigh. Nothing alert worthy, but still you kept a watchful eye, especially when the girls retreated back to their spot, and the boys waded further in, the water now striking just above the hem of their swim trunks. “Hey!” you called down to the girls, who turned their heads towards you. “Just a heads up, but your buddies probably shouldn’t go out much further than that.”

“Oh, thank you!” one of them smiled, while the other whistled loudly to get the boys’ attention, waving her hand at throat level in a “No more,” gesture, getting a thumbs up in response. Then a, “Wait… Do you see Ash?”

“No… Michael! Where’s Ash?!”

A blonde cocked his head to the side, then spun around in the water, mouthing something to the other two with him, Swimmer Boy Ashton lost in the shuffle somewhere.

“Son of a bitch…” you muttered, hopping down from your station and breaking into a run towards the water, the girls’ screams of “Ashton!” morphing with the boys’ cries of “Ash, this isn’t funny!”

You splashed your way into the ocean, the water hitting you square in the chest by the time you reached the three men. With the next wave, you ducked under water, letting the current pull you, the salt water burning your eyes as you forced them open, looking for Ashton.

You popped to the surface in a break between waves, scanning frantically for the man, finally spotting a splash and a hollered “Fuck, fuck, fuck!”

“Stop fighting against it!” you scolded. “Try to find the bottom, or let yourself float! Fighting’s gonna exhaust you! I’m coming, just hang on, and stop fighting!”

“I’m fucking trying! But it keeps pulling me!”

“Yeah, that’s the current! Here, grab this!” You threw the life preserver towards him.

“Ow!” he yelled at you as it bounced off his arm.

“Oh, shut up and hang on!”

You watched as he wrapped his arm around the life preserver. “Now what?!” he sputtered, wiping at his face with his free hand.

“Now, we use the waves to push us back to shore. Kick. Hard!”

“This is so fuckin’ embarrassing…” he groaned as a wave helped carry you guys back a little ways.

“Swim to the left,” you directed, feeling the pull of the current. “Parallel to the shore.”

“Okay, I feel sand. I can stand. I got it from here.”

“Cool. Some of us aren’t as vertically gifted, and in case you forgot, I’m trying to save your ass.”

“Mission accomplished,” he grumbled, still keeping pace next to you, as your own foot connected with sand.

“What happened?” you asked, as you started walking up the surf with him, the life preserver hanging rather uselessly from his arm.

“I got knocked off my feet. It’s not a big deal.”

“Not a big deal?!” you screeched, gesturing between the two of you and up at his friends who all stood a hundred feet away on the shoreline, worry written across each of their faces.

“Well I wasn’t expecting to get sucked out!”

“It’s the fucking ocean!”

“Real professional, berating your victim. You scold the five year olds too?”

“Nope. Just the twenty-five year old man child who thinks he knows what he’s doing.”

“I’m twenty-seven for one thing. And for another, I’m not a know-it-all.”

“Could have fooled me. Fighting against a fucking current… Rookie mistake.”

“I misjudged it, okay?!”

“Just admit you have no experience in the ocean, pool boy!”

“Pool boy?!”

“You’re a swimmer, are you not?”

“I used to be…”

“And I’d bet good money that you misjudged your own swimming abilities, didn’t you?”

Ashton narrowed his eyes, growling low in his throat, and you knew you were right. “Fine, I made a stupid mistake. Happy now?!”

“No! Look, just do me a favor and don’t go out in the water higher than your shorts, okay? Better yet, call it a day like everyone else was smart enough to do.” With that, you yanked the life preserver from his arm, and stalked off back to your station, pausing by his friends to give a clipped, “He’s fine. Stupid. But fine.”

“Mate, if you wanted to flirt with the lifeguard, there were probably better ways,” one of them, Calum, you remembered the voice, joked lightheartedly.

“I wasn’t flirting!”

“I thought you were a swimmer…” one of the blondes wondered aloud.

“And weren’t you also a lifeguard?” the other blonde inquired.

“It was an accident!” Ashton hissed through his teeth, accepting the towel one of the girls offered, wrapping it around his shoulders and trudging up the beach. His friends shared a glance, shrugged their shoulders, then followed Ashton at a few paces behind.

You tried not to laugh as Ashton sat down in the sand in a huff, still intent on pouting about his misfortune while his friends started to pack everything up. After about ten minutes of sulking, and a whispered conversation you couldn’t make out, he stood up and walked over to stand under your station. When you didn’t acknowledge his presence, he cleared his throat loudly. “Scuse me?”

“Yeah?”

“I was reminded I’m supposed to be a man with manners. So, um… thanks.”

“Just doing my job.”

“Yeah, but you wouldn’t have had to if I hadn’t made a dumbass mistake.”

“And which dumbass mistake would that be? Underestimating the ocean, or panicking when it started to kick your ass?”

“Make that two dumbass mistakes…”

You laughed. “You’d be surprised how often that happens. It’s no swimming pool, that’s for sure. And brains have this nifty way of shutting down at the worst times.”

“Still doesn’t stop me from being completely embarrassed. And unfortunately when I get embarrassed I act like a cunt. You were just doing your job. Sorry if I made that more difficult than it needed to be.”

“I could tell you at least 10 more difficult cases that would make your head spin.”

He winced in sympathy for you. “Well, thanks again. And sorry.” He gave you a small awkward wave before turning to walk off.

“No worries,” you called out to his back. “But, hey.”

“Yeah?” he asked, looking at you over his shoulder.

“What your friend said earlier. You seriously didn’t pull the ‘fake drowning to flirt with the lifeguard’ bit, did you?”

He laughed, giving a shake of his head. “Nah. Wasn’t a flirting bit. Just a dumbass bit.”

“Good. Cuz you know that doesn’t actually work, right?”

“Mmm, and what about asking you to dinner as an apology? Does that flirting bit work?”

“I dunno. I guess you would have to ask and find out.”

“Can I take you to dinner to make up for you having to rescue a dumbass who should have known better?”

You glanced at the clock in your station. “Meet you at the pier in a half hour?”

Ashton grinned.

__

Tag List

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[cheshiremadd]

Uprooting Bindweed

Ao3

I'd had the idea of Rena and Chat talking about Marinette and Adrien in my WIP folder, and then @galahadwilder posted the perfect prompt on discord to go with it: what if Chat Noir fired Rena Rouge.

Thank you SO much to @alexseanchai and @sweetmeatdale for your feedback! 💜

Speaking of Alex, they came up with the title, because they're amazing like that. Bindweeds are used as "food plants by the larvae of some Lepidoptera species, including the convolvulus hawk moth". With that information and the Bindweed tarot card, I knew a more perfect title would not be found.

-

The Akuma of the Week was searching for Marinette. The fourth time this month, and he was really hoping there was nothing to that. So many targeting the same person not Chloé or Lila seemed strange to him. But that was a worry for another time.

Chat Noir and Rena Rouge had been sent ahead to the bakery (he was very glad that he’d stashed Marinette somewhere else). Rena was to Mirage herself into the designer and play bait, but they had to wait until Ladybug could lure the akuma closer. Five minute timer, and all.

Rena reached her balcony first, and went to the trapdoor without hesitation. Chat figured he’d have to be the one to open it, and had been planning how to go about it without giving away how familiar he was, but Rena had no qualms. His stomach soured at the thought that he wasn’t the only superhero to visit Marinette.

She’d redecorated some since he last was in her room. He wasn’t able to come as often as he wanted, and they typically preferred the open air and view of her balcony when the weather was warm.

Adrien’s modeling photos were still present, but they’d been updated to more recent shoots. On another wall were more candid pictures. Their friends and classmates. People he assumed were Marinette’s family (only some of whom he’d met). Several of Kitty Section. Her and Jagged Stone and Penny Rolling (it still blew his mind that she’s on a first name basis with them). Lots of her and Alya and Nino. Fewer of Adrien.

He knew she had more of Chat than of Adrien. But she kept those on her phone, locked away in a secret folder. Too much chance that someone would see her walls.

One caught his eye, placed directly in the center, the spot of honor. A high res of Chat-him and Ladybug. They’d thrown their arms over each other’s shoulders and snapped half a dozen selfies. It’d been Ladybug’s idea to submit the best of them to the Ladyblog, giving civilian them plausible deniability.

The last wall, above her sewing supplies, held her inspiration boards. One for general inspiration, holding her favorite pieces from her favorite lines (only one of which was a Gabriel piece, he noted with some interest), some fabric squares of different colors and patterns, and scenic pictures from around Paris. The other, he knew, was more specific to whatever she was currently working on. Pinned to it was a handful of dried flowers, a fabric swatch to match each flower, and several sketches.

Chat glanced at Rena, realizing she’d been quiet this whole time. She was staring at Adrien’s modeling photos, the look on her face unreadable. He looked with her. He wondered if there was a specific shoot Marinette favored.

“This must look so strange to you.”

Chat looked back at her, but said nothing. He wasn’t sure what he could say that wouldn’t give away exactly how close he was to Marinette.

“I promise she’s not some weird stalker in love with a celebrity. Well. He is a celebrity and she does have the biggest crush on him.” Um. What? “But they’re actually friends. She didn’t even like him when she first met him. The—the Wall actually started because he wasn’t allowed to hang out very often, and no one could get any candids of him.”

What?!

His shock must have shown on his face. He turned back to ‘the Wall’ in an effort to hide at least some of it.

“You seriously didn’t know?” Rena said. “You’ve got to be, like, one of two people in Paris that doesn’t. I keep flopping on whether Adrien knows or not. One minute it’s like he’s encouraging her feelings, the next he’s going on about how glad he is to have such a good friend.”

Chat tried not to sputter. “How—how does ‘no candids’ turn into—” He gestured at the collage of Adriens.

“None of them were perfect.” Rena said it like she’d heard it a million times. “This photo shows his sincere eyes, but the rest of the face is photoshopped too much to be his real smile. ‘That advertisement had most of his real smile!’ ” She pitched her voice higher in mimicry. “ ‘But they shaved several centimeters off of his waist! Several! He’s skinny but he’s not that skinny can you believe they felt like they needed to change that, Rena?’ Well, she didn’t say Rena, she said my civilian name. I mean—you get it. And, oh, that outfit looks really good on him, it looks like something he’d choose to wear himself, but he looks so tired in that one. I bet that was at the end of that all-day shoot.”

(They didn’t actually shave inches off his waist. They did shave a little, but that wasn’t the point because—) He never realized that Marinette paid so much attention to him. He wanted to deny it. She’d specifically told him that she didn’t have a crush on him. And Marinette hates liars.

But. But she’d been embarrassed, that day. And she was embarrassed around him a lot. Especially when Alya was involved. It’d taken him a long time to notice that, but once he had, he saw it everywhere. And with this new piece of information…it shone a whole different light on many of their interactions.

Chat swallowed. He wasn’t sure what to do with this knowledge. He’d been in love with Ladybug for…for a long time. And Marinette. Marinette was special. Rejecting her was hard enough the first time, but at least he’d known that it’d never work between a superhero and a civilian.

Oh, Kwamis. She had a crush on Chat, too! Adding that event with this new understanding, he realized she never meant to confess to him. She’d probably been about to backtrack, but then her parents interrupted, and it was out of control from there.

What better evidence that someone truly liked you for who you were than falling for you twice and not realizing it?

Rena shuffled a bit, finding other things to poke her nose in, and Chat realized that he’d never responded.

“So, you don’t think it’s creepy that this girl has like twenty pictures of her crush on her walls?” He didn’t think it was creepy. He thought it was endearing. But he was curious what she would say. She’d been interestingly defensive of Marinette.

She snorted. “Hey, if it’s crazy, Adrien’s her same kind of crazy. He’s got more photos of Ladybug on his phone than I do, and that’s saying something.”

His brain came to a complete stop. And then worked overdrive. How the fuck did Rena Rouge know that.

She sighed, picked at her flute, and continued. “I’ve been wondering if she shouldn’t give him up, though. It’s starting to get unhealthy. Ruining her friendships in class.”

His chest tightened and it became hard to breath. Loving him was bad for her. The thought rattled around, but what she said next wiped it all away.

“There’s this girl in class, Lila. She’s an amazing person, done all these things, and has a real chance with Adrien. Marinette can’t let it go. She swore that Lila was lying, then dropped it and now just gives her the cold shoulder. Won’t go to group outings if Lila’s involved. Keeps flaking out. Avoids her completely. Lila’s trying, so hard, to keep the peace, mend bridges, and Marinette just refuses to listen.”

Rena dropped her hands, hitting her thighs, and paced. Agitated.

“It’s jealousy, pure and simple. And if she’s going to be like that, then I just don’t know if I can approve her being in a relationship. Especially with him.”

Chat felt something inside him harden. Gritted his teeth. Considered biting his tongue. He knew who this was. It’s plain as day now, and he’s mildly surprised he didn’t see it before. She’s supposed to be Marinette’s best. friend. And this was how she thought of her?

To be fair, Rena looked torn over this. Chat could see the hurt in her eyes, the worry in her bitten lower lip. The frustration in the creases of her brow. And she was telling all this to Chat, whom she only passingly knew.

But he couldn’t keep the distaste from his face. “Marinette’s right. Lila Rossi is a fucking liar. You think she’s got a real chance with Adrien Agreste? He wouldn’t touch her with my extendable baton. He only does photoshoots with her because clearly no one at Françoise Dupont knows what proper procedures for expulsion are, and that stunt Rossi pulled almost turned into Heroes Day 2.0.” He tugged down one of Adrien’s glamour shots. Marinette’s handwritten and detailed critiques ran along the edges. “From what it sounds like, Agreste would be lucky to date a girl like Marinette.”

Rena stared at Chat, stunned. “What do you know about Lila?”

He let out a short and hard laugh. “Enough. That little interview on the Ladyblog? I doubt there’s a true word in it. I mean, Ladybug’s best friend? I’m Ladybug’s best friend!”

Some of the tension released from her shoulders and she rolled her eyes. “Right. I forgot how jealous you can be, too.”

Chat growled at her. His ears flicked back, low on his head, and his tail whipped through the air agitatedly. “If you’re going to sit here and defend that manipulative bitch then you might as well take that miraculous off right now.”

Rena stepped back into a defensive stance. She was a decent fighter, but he was better. If she refused to give it over peaceably—

Something thumped on the roof. Ladybug. There was still an akuma, and that took priority. They needed to be where Ladybug expected them.

“Mirage, now.” His words were short and clipped. He pounced past her and opened up the window opposite of where the akuma would be coming from. “Follow the plan. We can talk about this later.”

The plan worked out like most of Ladybug’s plans do: perfectly. Chat’d tied the villain up in Marinette’s tarp-roof, presented with a string-of-lights bow and a flourished bow to his Lady to his Lady. She did her thing, tossed the spotted paperclip into the air, and Marinette’s balcony and room put themselves back together. The glamour shot even taped itself back on the wall.

Chat sent Ladybug a look. She gestured in a direction and he nodded. He was pretty sure he knew the roof she meant.

Rena passed by him with wariness, but he paid her no visible attention. She took off with Ladybug in the agreed direction while he turned to the akuma victim. He had a princess to protect.

“Here, let me get you down to street level,” he said. The deakumatized girl seemed hesitant to step into his arms, but relented after seeing no other way down. “Do you remember anything?”

Tears shone in her eyes for a moment, but she swiped at them and tried a smile. It didn’t work. “I—I think I’ll be okay. It’s stupid, I just…let my stress get the better of me.”

He opened his mouth, but she cut him off with a gasp. “Oh, no, Marinette! I didn’t do anything to hurt her, did I?”

“Mlle Dupain-Cheng is fine,” he hurried to reassure her, “but…do you remember why you were after her? Did she do something wrong?”

“No! No. Marinette is lovely; she’s always helping us out in the Garden Club!” The girl paused, ashamed. “I was just feeling overwhelmed and she always seems so put together, she juggles all these responsibilities…I was jealous. Like I said. Stupid.”

“Hey, hey, your feelings are not stupid. Everyone gets stressed and feels like they’re drowning at times. I bet if you asked Marinette about it, she’d say that she always feels like that.”

He remembered himself and what he had to do, and glanced upwards.

“I’m very sorry. I’d usually stay longer and make sure you’re really okay, but I have an urgent something.” He handed her one of the business cards he’d made up. It had information on a number of Akuma support groups. “I can be back in about 30 minutes if you want to wait?”

Her smile turned a little more real. She took a deep, calming breath and let it out slowly. “I think I’ll be okay,” she said again. “I’ll—that’s good advice. Talking to Marinette. Thank you, Chat Noir. For caring.”

He smiled and saluted her, then bounded off. His baton confirmed that Ladybug and Rena were still active a few rooftops over. But then he watched Rena’s signal go out and put on a burst of speed to get there in time. They weren’t on the roof, it turned out, but in the alleyway adjacent to the building.

Ladybug’s eyebrows raised in silent question when she saw him. “Sorry, Bug. This is something that needs to be done.”

Alya looked between the two. Suspicion bloomed and, with it, fear.

Pernicious cat gods, this was going to be awful.

“Alya Césaire.” Chat held his hand out. “The Miraculous. Please.”

She grasped it so hard her knuckles turned white. She took a big gulp of air and said shakily, “This feels final.”

He stared at one of his closest friends, and didn’t let himself waver.

“Your recklessness has put many in danger, including Ladybug and myself. You gave Lila Rossi a platform to speak, to spread her lies. You, who had held a miraculous before, and likely would again. Whom Ladybug had shown a partiality to in interviews and questions. You had every opportunity to check Rossi’s story.”

And, oh, he sounded exactly like his father. That grated.

“In giving her credibility, you opened several of your classmates up to her manipulations. Your best friend warned you about her lies, and you wrote it off as petty jealousy. You tried to write off what I told you as petty jealousy.”

He could kind of see how she’d come to that conclusion, assuming Marinette never told her about that cringe-worthy ice skating date and knowing that she was in love with him. (Alya said ‘crush’. Having this new option to attribute to Mari’s behavior, he knew it was more than that.)

“Furthermore, I can guarantee that at least one terrorist watches your blog. A civilian claimed to be a superhero’s best friend and you broadcast that to the world. What happens when said terrorist decides to use that?”

It was harsh, and damning. But it had to be said. She needed to understand.

Alya looked from him to Ladybug and back, then repeated the motion. “You—you can’t…” Alya’s voice broke. Her eyes settled on Ladybug, who appeared to have turned to stone, she held herself so rigidly. “He can’t do this. Right? You hand out the Miraculous; it’s your decision. Not his!”

Ladybug’s stormy eyes turned to ice. The Ladyblogger realized her mistake and opened her mouth to salvage something, anything, but Ladybug cut her off. “You, of all people, should know that Chat is my equal. He’s right. I should've…but I didn’t…” She shook her head, once. “I stand by his decisions.”

Chat released a breath he hadn’t known he was holding. Alya’s eyes grew bright with tears and she clutched the Fox Miraculous harder. She stared at them, and they stared at her, and she finally dropped it into Chat’s claws.

Ladybug’s hands fluttered in Alya’s direction. She pulled up short, though, unsure if her touch would be welcome.

“This doesn’t make you a bad person, Alya,” she said gently. “You’ve been lied to and manipulated. That’s not your fault. But, as a reporter, it’s important to consider the consequences of distributing information. Just as it is to produce evidence to back your stories.”

Alya’s hand pressed against her mouth, muffled a sob.

Ladybug hesitated, considering, and then spoke again. “You can still be a hero, Alya. Magic, the miraculous, it doesn’t make you into what you aren’t. You make you a hero. And, like I told Chloé, being a hero starts with your everyday life.”

Silence. The only sounds were the girl’s sniffling and the pounding of Chat’s heart. Even the sounds of the city muted. He had to force himself to stay still. Fidgeting felt disrespectful somehow. It was broken by Alya.

“So—so Lila was never your friend?” she asked thickly.

Ladybug’s voice was so gentle, yet cut through what the Ladyblogger had known like a knife. “No.”

Alya nodded. Wiped her eyes and tried to pull herself together. Her short gasps of breath betrayed how upset she was. “I. I think I’ve—” She swallowed. “Got some thinking to do.”

She turned to face the street, straightened her spine, and walked out. Her walk looked a little robotic to Chat, a little too forced to be her normal. She barely made it ten meters before Chat heard Nino call out to her.

Good, he thought, deflating a little. Nino will protect her.

His priority was his Lady.

“Well, it looks like you finally joined me in getting past the time limitation.” His attempt at lightening the mood fell flat even to him.

Ladybug didn’t respond at all. She took a big, shuddering breath.

“Oh, Bug…” Chat was quick to wrap his arms around her, and gently pull her head to rest on his shoulder. He coaxed her into a shuffle-walk until his back met the dirty alley wall, the heel of the hand that still held the Fox necklace rubbing up and down and across her back. “I’m so sorry.”

She shook her head back and forth; his claws tangled further in her hair. He tried not to listen to her quiet tears. He drowned out the sound of Nino and Alya moving on. The cars on the street. Instead he looked for the delicate and distinct sound of an akuma’s wings. She deserved a moment to mourn without worry.

Ladybug took a deep breath.

“You were right.” Her voice sounded wet. “Her blog affects many, and we were probably the only ones she was going to listen to.

“Actions…actions have to have consequences. Alya wasn’t seeing them, and—and maybe we shouldn’t be judge, jury, and executioner, but—the longer this goes on the worse they’ll become.”

Neither of them moved. He continued to find no evil bugs. Or feathers, but they usually went weeks in between Mayura sightings.

A gentle wind blew. They were having a round of good weather. Sunny days that were just warm enough to make the breeze feel perfect. He was hoping it’d hold through the weekend.

Ladybug pulled away to wipe her eyes. He fumbled a folded black handkerchief with green embroidery into her hands and she shot him a grateful, if watery, smile. “Thank you. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

Oh, that just warmed him down to his toes. And emboldened him to push a little more. “Hey, I was wondering, would you mind saying that bit about me being right again? Because I could listen to that all day—”

He internally cheered as his partner huffed out a laugh and rolled her eyes. “Careful, kitty. I can see your head getting bigger by the second.”

She returned fire!

Mission accomplished.

.

That meant it was time to go, he guessed.

.

Chat stood there a moment longer. Contemplative.

“What are you thinking about, minou?”

He turned to her with a small smile, trying to hold it back and mostly failing. She crinkled a smile in return and raised an eyebrow.

“I’m going to get me a girlfriend.”

He said it so resolutely, so surely, so smugly, that she couldn’t help but laugh. “You are, are you?”

He nodded. His smile spread to full blown glee. “If she’ll have me. Rena said something while we waited, and it just made me think. There’s this girl, LB, and fuck is she amazing. She’s been waiting for me for the better part of two years, and I just realized that I’m crushing on her. Hard. I don’t even know when it started.”

He sighed, happy. “I’m going to ask her out. Tomorrow. And pray to the kwamis that she gives me one last chance.”

(Adrien didn’t ask Marinette out the next day, because Alya looked awful and he figured she needed the support. He’d count himself lucky if she didn’t get akumatized over this, and would attribute the entirety of that luck to his princess. He did invite her to lunch the day after that—he’d thought it’d be more difficult than it was, but Alya was already leading Rose off to a quiet corner—where he managed a stuttered and stilted confession. He honestly had no idea how Marinette managed to understand it, but she must have because she gave an enthusiastic “Yes!” and the next thing he knew they were making plans to explore the city together on Saturday.)

-

It's the job of the Black Cat to recognize when something’s not working, and to get rid of it. Destruction is necessary for Creation to truly thrive. And, sometimes, that means destroying what Creation loves. But, sometimes, the thing Creation loves is the vine that's choking her.

(Or enables the vine that’s choking her.)

[cilldaracailin]

Heaven For Everyone

Hell my Tumblr Lovely’s.

Welcome to that period over Christmas where no-one has a clue what day of the week it is! And lots of sleep happens!

Here is the next part in this Robyn and Taron story. Hope you all enjoy.

Suze xx

P.S I managed to convince the parents to watch Eddie the Eagle... Love this movie so much. Such a sweet movie.

P.P.S I don’t know Taron or his family and this is just a work of fiction.

6

“Be who you are and say what you feel, because those who mind don't matter, and those who matter don't mind.”

Clive was waiting outside for them, standing in front of the blacked-out car and he stepped forward to take the cases from Taron, who thanked him, moving to open the door of the car.

“After you.” He smiled to Robyn who lifted her dress a little and stepped into the car, shuffling over in the seat, allowing Taron to sit in beside her, closing the door after him with a slight bang. Once in the car, he turned to her and grinned widely. “I think fiery Robyn is my absolute favourite.”

“I couldn’t help it.” Robyn fluffed her dress out a bit so it sat better and then turned to face him, feeling the car move as it started to make its way towards Leicester Square. “Just leave it be. Don’t come grovelling after the shit caused. I know it wasn’t her fault but it has just had a ripple effect neither of us needed and it has spoilt our day a little.”

“Maybe this morning but not anymore.” Taron moved so he was sitting closer to her. “This is what I have been waiting for since I gave you those vouchers. Getting to share this moment with you.” He reached over to take her hands, being very careful with her right one. “I am so glad you said yes Robyn. I have said it before but Kingsman would never have been finished without you. I wouldn’t be here without you and you mean everything and more to me and I promise to keep you close to me all night. I mean we come as a pair, can’t break this colour combo up.”

Robyn laughed loudly. “I think if we didn’t match, I would be terribly disappointed. I am getting so used to it now.” She turned his hands over, running the index finger of her right hand over his cuff links, the ones she had given him. “I am so excited to be here with you for this. I am so proud of you Taron, for what you have achieved. Enjoy every minute of this evening because you deserve it all and more.”

“With Stella not around now do you think it will be ok if I hug you? She doesn’t have a secret camera on you ready to shout at me for creasing your dress or ruining your hair?”

Robyn smiled and opened her arms for him and Taron happily engulfed her in a sideways hug, his face going straight into her left shoulder, breathing in deeply, a wonderful mixture of Robyn’s perfume, intoxicating body lotion and warm skin filling his senses and he was getting use to the feel of her bare soft skin under his hands.

“I love this dress.” He whispered into her shoulder, feeling her chuckle against him.

“It has its perks.” She agreed, enjoying the feeling of Taron’s large hands on her back, the heat from the palms of his hands seeping into her skin. “Though I haven’t a clue how I am going to pee in it.”

Taron laughed loudly and moved his head to kiss her cheek. “I am sure you will find a way.” He ended the hug and sat back against the chair, Robyn sitting right next to him, her clutch on her lap.

“I have something for you.” She opened her clutch and pulled out a very small slim box, wrapped in green stripped paper and passed it to him.

“What have you been up too?” He asked her. “And seriously? You never stick to our present pact.”

Robyn smiled and pressed the present into his hand. “Sometimes I don’t think you know me at all. It is only something very small.”

“Sure. Small.” He replied taking the box. “What is it?” He asked with a grin, knowing Robyn would frown his way and he smiled widely as sure enough she gave him a scowl. “Ok, ok I will open it.”

Starting with the tape at one end, Taron knew Robyn was watching every move he made and he purposely took his time, being extra careful and slow as he pulled the tape off and his smile grew even more as he felt Robyn shuffle impatiently beside him. Then with one tear, he ripped a large strip from the middle of the wrapping, a green box coming into view as he pulled the rest of the paper off. Robyn took the paper from him and scrunched it up into a ball and threw it over her shoulder, Taron giggling at her.

“I don’t think I have ever seen you impatient Robyn.” He finally got the rest of the paper off the present.

“I have never seen someone open a present so slowly.” She replied back to him, nudging him with her shoulder.

“I am nearly there.”  He held the box in his left hand opened it with his right and knew Robyn heard his intake of breath as he looked to the tie clip sitting neatly inside the box. Matching his cuff links perfectly, Robyn had bought him a stunning gold tie clip, the same Claddagh symbol embellished on it. The only difference between his cuff links and his new tie clip was the green emerald that sat in the middle of the heart and the small white crystals on the crown. “Robyn…” Taron looked to her with slight shock on his face. “This is too much.”

She shook her head. “Are you even going to try and argue with me over it?” She asked him taking the box from his hands, slipping the clip from its velvet case. “You know you won’t get far.” She moved a little so she was facing him better. “Can I?” She saw his tiny nod of agreement. Pulling his neatly tucked tie from his waistcoat, Robyn handed Taron the clip to hold so she could line the back and front of his tie together, slipping the index and middle fingers of her left hand in-between two buttons of his shirt, brushing over the warm skin of his chest and held the tie in place midway down his shirt. “Clip please.” She took the gold piece of jewellery from him and switched her hands around, her right fingers now holding his shirt and tie, she opened the clip with her left hand and clipped it into place making sure it didn’t snag his bare skin, smoothing down his tie with both hands, before tucking it back under waistcoat. “Perfect.”

Taron looked down to his tie and then back to Robyn. “It is way too much.” He ran his fingers over the clip on his tie. “I can’t take this from you.”

“You rejecting my present?” She asked him.

“No no no!” He quickly said. “No of course not but Robyn this must have cost you…”

He never got to finish as Robyn placed both hands over his mouth stopping him mid-sentence. “It is something very small that matches your cuff links.” She told him firmly. “And it’s a present that I got for you because I can and I love you and it is something to mark the occasion of your premier.” She took her hands from his mouth and placed them on his cheeks. “You are welcome.”

Taron looked to her, her pretty face grinning at him, her cheeks glowing in the late evening sun that came through the car window, her large eyes staring him down. Her thumbs stroked his cheeks and his heart thumped hard in his chest. “Thank you Robyn. I love it.”

“I know.”

Her answer made him shake his head a little and she took her hands from his face. “I have nothing for you.”

Robyn looked down to the beautiful dress she was wearing. “Really? Nothing?” She looked back to him. “I am wearing the most luxurious piece of clothing I have ever worn. Had my hair styled by a professional hairstylist to the stars and for the first time in my life, had my make-up done by someone who wasn’t me or Claire. I am sitting in a car on a way to a movie premier with my best friend who has been the most wonderful and caring person to me over the last few hours and tonight is going to be one of the best for me. This…” She placed her hands over his tie. “Is just a tiny token for you.”

Taron placed hands over hers. “Thank you.”

Satisfied he wasn’t going to argue with her again, Robyn reached into her clutch once more.

“You need to take these.” She placed two white tablets into his open palm.

“You better have your painkillers in that bag too.” He warned, his face turning into a small smile as she took a foil packet out too.

“Of course.”

Taron leaned forward and opened the panel in between the driver and passenger seat and pulled out a bottle of water. After taking his tablets, he handed the water to Robyn who swallowed her painkillers too. He had forgotten to take his tablets, let along bring them with him with all the fuss of getting ready but of course Robyn remembered.

“How is your hand?” He asked, slipping his under her right hand.

“Not too bad today. I didn’t have to use it at all.”

Taron grinned. “Stella took over everything?”

“Everything.”

As Taron sat back against the seat, Robyn moved so she could lean against him a little, her right hand nestled neatly between his two. “Well I won’t be sorry to see the end of room three three three.” She turned her head as she heard him snigger. “What on earth is so funny?”

“Nothing. I just like the way you say three.”

Robyn’s lips rose in a smile. “You making fun of my accent?”

“Oh no. Not at all. I just like the way you say three.”

“I could pronounce it the proper way as three but where is the fun in that.”

“No fun indeed.” He agreed. “So chicken, are you doing the most amazing job of hiding how you are feeling right now with jokes and distractions?”

“Are you?” She returned to him. “You are holding my left hand pretty tight.”

Not even realising he was doing so; Taron had been gripping Robyn’s hand incredibly tight and he eased the pressure at which he was holding her hand. “Sorry.”

“It’s ok.” Robyn took his hand back in hers and linked their fingers together. “You are bound to be nervous.” She ran her thumb over his knuckles. “You probably haven’t really had the time to think about it much.”

“Not at all but I know my heart is racing.” He looked down as Robyn placed her right hand on his chest.

“You’re going to be brilliant. The movie is going to be brilliant.”

“Shouldn’t I be the one calming you down?” He asked. “I promised you I would look after you tonight.”

“And I know you will.” She assured him. “We are there for each other, right?”

“Always.”

Robyn leaned into him again as he swung his arm around her shoulders. Sitting together, they watched the London buildings whizz past, their breathing falling in sync with each other, Taron making lazy circles on her shoulder with his index finger. His stomach was bubbling in serious nerves and his heart was thumping hard in his chest. It was normal excitement and anxiousness he always felt before he had to walk a red-carpet but there was just that added pressure he couldn’t help but feel this time around and with the breaking scandal that morning, he was definitely worried that the media would focus more on that than the movie and he was running over the prepped answers Lyndsey had given him in his mind. He moved to place a kiss on Robyn’s hair and then rested his cheek on her head, her thumbs on his knuckles deepening the pressure she was using. He was comforted by her touch and closed his eyes, taking some deep breathes to counter his nerves. Her thoughtfulness blew his mind and she just had a knack for giving him the most kind and unexpected gifts and his heart was filled with complete bliss and true love for her.

It was the first time Robyn had ever seen Taron this nervous and he was clearly extremely anxious about the imminent premier and she took his right hand in her two and started to massage the back of his hand with her two thumbs, digging into skin over and over, running her thumbs over his fingers too before moving back to his hand, making circular patterns of varying sizes. It stung her right hand a little but she needed Taron to feel somewhat relaxed before he stepped out of the car and his excitement that morning had been ruined by the unexpected media frenzy. She started to hum tiny dancer; hearing Taron join in with her.

“This really should be me calming you down chicken.” He murmured into her hair.

“This does calm me down. I like taking care of you.”

“I have noticed. Always the way.”

Robyn grinned as the fingers of his left hand made very delicate and light patterns on her bare shoulder, his touch spreading a fiery heat down her arm. She continued to rub his hand, feeling strong tendons under his skin.

“Taron we are just around the corner from Leicester Square. Two minutes.”

“Thanks Clive.”

Robyn felt the long breathe Taron took and she lifted his hand to her lips to place a soft kiss on the back of it. “You ok rocketman?” She asked him.

“Yep. Just fine. You?”

“Thought I would have been shitting more bricks but guess I am getting used to this red-carpet thing.”

Taron’s deep laughter filled the car and he cuddled Robyn into his chest. “I am so glad you are here with me Robyn.”

“Me too.”

They could hear the cheers and screams before the car stopped and Robyn lifted her body from Taron’s to lean across him so she could look out the windows. A red carpet lined the length of one side of Leicester Square and behind metal barriers were people gathered four and five rows thick, the fans on the front holding posters and signs. On the opposite side, a line of reporters, photographers and media were gathered ready and waiting to catch a perfect picture of the stars of the movie.

Taron watched Robyn’s eyes as they looked out the window, his hand on her back, waiting for a reaction of some sort from her but she turned to face him with a smile. “No backing out now.” She grinned, Taron chuckling.

“You sure Robyn?”

“I didn’t squeeze myself into this dress and one time use bra for nothing.” She saw the glint in Taron’s eyes. “I am very happy for a pants suit next time.” Sitting back, she placed her hands on his cheeks. “You got this Taron.”

“I am really supposed to be calming your nerves.” He said once more.

“What nerves. I am a pro at this now!”

With another chuckle, Taron smiled widely and placed his hands over hers. “Yes you are.”

Robyn took her hands from his face and gave him a smile and a nod, Taron placed his hand on the handle of the door to open it. The noise of the crowd was so much louder with the door open and giving Robyn’s hand one last encouraging squeeze, he made to get out of the car, closing the button on his jacket once he stood up straight, already seeing the flashes of lights from the photographers. He looked into the car and Robyn had already shuffled over to get out of the car too and he held one hand out to her which she took, placing one foot outside the car before her second and standing up tall beside Taron. Now along with his name being shouted out, hers was too and the flashes doubled. Robyn noticed that Taron hadn’t let go of her hand and she very much appreciated the tight grip he gave her.

“Thanks Clive.” Taron acknowledge the driver as he closed the door.

“No problem Taron. You just give me a call when you want to be picked up, regardless of time or where you are. I will come to you.”

Taron nodded with agreement and turned to Robyn. “So chicken, welcome to my world.” He slipped her arm around her waist. “Not too scary really right?”

Robyn looked to him. “So far no but maybe that’s because you are standing right beside me.” The screams and shouts were quite overwhelming and the constant flashes of cameras were hard to ignore but the comfort and heat from Taron as he stood next to her was keeping her calm, his hand rubbing her side lightly. “I am glad I was eased into your world before this though.”

Taron smiled. “You fit in my world Robyn. You fit perfectly.”

“I swear you two, this matching look is really catching on.” Taron and Robyn turned to look at Lyndsey who walked towards them, looking effortlessly styled in a grey pants suit and light purple shirt. “Robyn.” She gave the young woman a very tight hug. “You look absolutely beautiful. How are the nerves?” She asked as she let her go but held her left hand tightly.

“Roaming around but so far it’s fine. There are so many people here.” Robyn glanced around the carpet which was full of invited guests, all milling around chatting to each other and the media at the barriers. “I think that will actually make this a lot easier than I thought. The focus won’t constantly be on Taron and myself.”

Lyndsey smiled gently. “You are just two of a few who everyone has come out to see.” She then turned to Taron. “And you.” She took Taron in for just as tight a hug. “How are you holding up?”

“I am actually ok Lyndsey.”

“You sure?” She felt him nod.  “Your Robyn have anything to do with that?” She whispered in his ear, feeling him nod again. “Nice dress.” Taron chuckled as he let his publicist go. “Just do as we always do Taron. Smile and pose. Keep cheery and happy. Be there for each other and show everyone that you still don’t let media shit get in your heads.”

The trio laughed, but Lyndsey’s filtered off as she looked past them to the line of cars waiting to let their passengers out. “Taron, your other guest is just pulling up too.”

Robyn tilted her head. “Other guest?”

She watched as another blacked out car pulled up alongside them and could feel a new excitement coming from Taron, watching as his face filled with a large grin. Robyn turned back to the car as the door opened and Tina’s face appeared, Taron stepping forward to take his mam’s hand to help her out of the car.

“Hello love.” Robyn’s face bore a soft smile as mother and son hugged each other tight and for a long time, Tina rubbing her son’s back up and down. Robyn was sure it was the first time Tina would have seen Taron since before he went on his tour and she stood back with Lyndsey, letting them have their moment together.

“Is he really ok?” Lyndsey asked Robyn.

“Yeah he is. He really is.”

“Are you? Been a hell of a week for you too.”

“It has but we have gotten over the hard part.”

“You mean last weekend? I never really did get to thank you properly for what you did for him.”

Robyn turned to look to Lyndsey as Tina continued to hug her son tight. “You did and did many times too. Thank you for taking care of him too. He told me you practically sat on him in Paris.”

“Not quite but close enough.”

“He looks great Lyndsey.”

“Yes he does and now coming back around to you. That mess this morning was completely uncalled for Robyn and I have had a very strong word with the hotel to chastise them for their actions and what happened.”

“I read the statement Lyndsey. You got that out very quickly.” Robyn took a quick glance to Taron and Tina who were now standing close together in deep conversation.

“Of course I was going to Robyn. You have been nothing but a friend to Taron and I was not going to have three jealous girls tear your good soul and nature down because they are envious of your relationship. He was so annoyed this morning.”

Robyn turned to look at Lyndsey. “He was more upset when he got back to me.”

“Well that too but angry at first.”

“I think he had every right to be though.”

“Oh of course. I don’t disagree with you. When it comes to you, Taron will always protect you with everything he has and more.” Lyndsey saw a slight blush in Robyn’s cheeks. “So, are you sure you ready for tonight? Not going to run away Cinderella style leaving a shoe behind? You have the dress to pull that off.” Lyndsey laughed hearing Robyn laugh too. “You like the dress then?”

“I love the dress.” She nodded “And you know, I had told Taron in Paris that I was absolutely shitting myself with nerves for tonight but for some reason I am not actually as nervous as I thought I would be. Of course I still feel a little anxious but I think the media crap this morning just put some perspective on things for me. People are going to talk however they want but I can only stay true to myself and Taron and for some reason that I just can’t understand Lyndsey, the media seem to be right on our side for the most part. So, let them talk. Let the fans talk. He is what matters to me at the end of the day and the only thing that I care about is him. Just him.”

Lyndsey grinned. “And that is why you are the most perfect match for him. He needs someone who doesn’t give a shit about the media, who keeps him calm and loves him completely but also is not afraid to speak her mind.”

“Ahh yes. Taron calls it my fiery side.”

Lyndsey winked. “Bet he loves it and more than he lets on too.” She laughed at Robyn’s slight pout. “Now none of those faces this evening. Smiles and lots of them. Show this crowd that couldn’t care less attitude you have, that you are here to stand with that man who is here to promote this movie because of you and what you did for him all those months ago.” Lyndsey reached out to take Robyn’s left hand. “Maybe stay away from rubbing his nose and the head scratches on camera though.”

Robyn who was trying her best to scowl at Taron’s publicist, smiled widely. “I will don’t worry and he won’t be getting many head scratches this weekend.” She was holding her clutch in her right hand but still held it up to Lyndsey, showing her the dark bruising that marred her skin.

“Don’t lie to me Robyn Quinn. He has to have gotten at least one even with that hand and by that smile, I know he has too.”

“Once Taron is good, I am good.”

“So, I have noticed. He chose this dress, right?” Lyndsey nudged Robyn a little. “I wonder why.”

“Because it is his premier and we had to up the fancy fancy stakes.”

“Sure, his premier. Nothing to do with the extra skin on show?” Lyndsey teased as Tina and Taron finished their private chat and took the steps backwards to stand beside them.

Tina stood right in front of Robyn, a bright smile on her face. “Robyn, you look absolutely beautiful.” She reached for the young woman’s hand. “You who will do anything for my son.” Tina took Robyn in for a very close and tight hug. “Thank you for looking after him. Thank you for being there for him and loving him. Thank you for putting that sparkle back in his eye.”

Robyn felt the tightness of the hug and looked to Taron as his mam embraced her, raising an eyebrow his way. He had been given the same treatment from his mother and after another quick telling off for his reckless behaviour last week, she told him how gorgeous himself and Robyn looked together. He just shrugged his shoulders at her with a grin and mouthed ‘just go with it’ to her.

“Easy to do Tina. He’s a dote.”

Tina laughed at her words. “Sure. Whatever you say Robyn.” She then moved closer to her ear to whisper to her. “He stumbled over his words when I asked him about the dress you are wearing.”

“Your son’s choice.” Robyn whispered, a light tone in her voice.

“Of course it was.”

“It is perfect Tina. Matches his eyes.” She threw in.

“Hmm, matches his eyes indeed. That’s why. Nothing to do with this.” Tina placed her hands flat on Robyn’s back. “Nothing at all. My son is a red-blooded man Robyn.”

Robyn moved her head away from Tina’s shoulder and looked her straight the eye, avoiding Taron’s face from behind her shoulder, ready to change subject. “It is so nice to see you again Tina though I am sure Mari and Rosie were not impressed at all.”

“They are not at all pleased that I get to come along to Taron’s premier and then when they heard I got to see you, well I have been told that because I got to see you, they get to go to Disneyland.”

Robyn laughed as she let go of Tina. “I think I might be on their side and want to go on that trip too and you look beautiful Tina.” Dressed in a wonderfully fitted dark red dress, Tina oozed glamour for Taron’s premier. “That dress is fab.”

“Thank you.”

“So, I know you girls have lots to catch up on and need to make up for the lost girl talk but do you think I could actually walk my red carpet now?” Taron came over to stand with them.

“Your red carpet?” Robyn asked raising an eyebrow.

“Mine.” Taron chuckled. “It is my picture on that very large poster over there.”

Robyn smiled at the boyish grin on his face, his eyes so bright and happy. He obviously knew his mother was coming to his premier and having her with him, gave his whole body a new energy and she could see him almost bouncing on the balls of his feet. “Well then Mr movie star, we had better get going.” She stepped closer to him and linked her arm with his. She started to walk, giving Taron a little pull to make him walk.

Taron looked to his mam and his publicist and as Lyndsey gave him a little push, he stepped in time with Robyn, a wide grin on his face as they walked the first few meters of the carpet.

“You could have told me your mother was coming.” She said to him as they walked, Taron waving to some of the people standing behind the barrier as he heard his name called. “A little bit of warning maybe?”

“Real last-minute thing and kind of a surprise for me too, to be honest. Guy is at home with Mari and Rosie, who are absolutely not happy about mam getting to come and not them.”

Robyn smiled. “Poor little chickens.”

“Bribed with a trip to Disneyland, no less.” He shook his head.

“Which I am going on by the way. Ariel is my home girl.”

Taron’s deep laughter was covered by the shouts and screams around him. “I think if I brought you home to Aber with me, it would be just as good as trip to Disney.”

“I don’t know rocketman. Robyn and Disneyland together? Sounds good to me!”

He chuckled again as he took her in her honest and genuine smile and unhooked his arm from hers and wrapped it around her waist instead, giving her a slight squeeze. “Ready to get your photo taken?” He asked her as they walked in front of the large Kingman poster and the row of photographers.

“Is your mam going to join us?” Robyn asked as Taron moved to stand at her right side.

“She will but these guys need the exclusive of me and you together first.” He whispered into her ear.

As their names were shouted, Taron and Robyn smiled and glanced to every camera they could. After standing for a nearly two minutes, Robyn could feel Taron getting fidgety so Robyn tickled his side a little, hearing him giggle.

“You want to play that game?” He asked her. “Your back is bare and I know how tickly you are!” Taron ran the tips of his fingers very lightly across the skin above the crystal belt at her waist, feeling her wriggle away from his touch a little.

Their laughter was caught on camera and as Taron went to brush her skin again, Robyn turned around to face him, one of her hands on his chest. “Not the time or place Egerton.” She warned with a full smile. She was well aware of the increase of camera flashes as she stood slightly in front of him and looked over her shoulder with a grin.

“Smile for the camera chicken.”

Robyn turned into his body once more, laughing at the mischievous look on his face and in his eyes. She kept her hand on his chest as he wrapped his around her waist again, the calls for them to pay attention to each individual photographer becoming louder.

“You are asking for trouble Taron.” Robyn said to him through a smile as she moved her hand from his chest to his waist.

“Well they are talking about us anyway.” He replied, giving her temple a kiss. “May as well give them something to talk about.”

Lyndsey and Tina stood to the side watching at Robyn and Taron laughed and whispered to each other, hands touching in places that were much too intimate for so called friends.

“Who will break first?” Lyndsey asked Tina who was watching her son with slightly blurry eyes. She slipped her arms through Tina’s. “You ok?”

Tina nodded and placed her hand on Lyndsey’s. “He looks happy. I haven’t seen him smile like that in a very long time.” She shook her head a little. “She is something else.” Tina’s eyes were glued to the interactions between her son and Robyn and it was so easy to see the spark and genuine love they shared.

“He doesn’t stop talking about her and I don’t know if you know about the head massages?” Lyndsey looked to Tina, seeing her nod. “Ahh so you are well aware of them.”

“Walked in on one when Robyn came to Aber last year. He looked very cosy.”

Lyndsey nodded. “That boy is spoilt.”

“Yes, he is.” Tina agreed. “And he will definitely break first.” Tina answered Lyndsey’s earlier question, with a smile.  She looked as she heard her name being called, Taron beckoning her over. She slipped her arm from Lyndsey and walked over towards her son and stood beside him.

Taron looked to the photographers from under his eyelashes as he held his two favourite woman in the world close to him at that moment before he lifted his head, smiling. His mood had lifted and he was no longer worrying about things that filled his mind earlier. With a deep breathe, he pulled his mam and Robyn a little closer to him, his smile lasting much longer that it normally would during his photocall.

After two more minutes of flashes and increasingly loud name calling, Robyn could only see white spots in front of her eyes. Blinking a few times, she leaned her head closer to Taron’s. “How do you do this constantly?”

“It’s why I normally wear my sunglasses.” He replied to her.

“Think I will go and stand with Lyndsey for a few. You and your mam should have your own photoshoot now.”

“You sure?” Taron let his hand drop from his mam’s waist to turn to face her a little.

“Yeah. She is even more proud of you than I am.” Robyn reached to give his hand a squeeze. “Keep smiling rocketman.”

Robyn lifted her dress a little so it would sit right before she made to walk back to Lyndsey, standing beside her, to the side on the red carpet.

“Had enough?” She asked her.

“Just enough and he has to this all with the rest of the cast too.”

“Premiers definitely require a lot more compared to what you are used too.”

“And it is just the start of the evening?”

Lyndsey was about to reply to Robyn when a loud roar of the crowd disrupted her words and both women looked to the start of the red carpet where Colin Firth just stepped out of his car, waving and smiling. Another car pulled up and the crowd yelled once more as the two more stars of the movie exited the car.

“Feeling overwhelmed yet?” Lyndsey said to Robyn over the noise.

“Maybe a little.” She glanced toward Taron who was now taking his solo shots in front of the poster and it was as if he could read her mind and he caught her look and gave her a small smile and wink. “But I will do my best to take it my stride.”

“Along with Taron’s smiles and winks, right?” Robyn knew she blushed but nodded. “He’s got you in his sight all the time, don’t worry.”

“Right in your sight.” Tina agreed as she came to stand with them.

“Sent his calvary this evening I see.” Robyn grinned as Lyndsey and Tina flanked her side.

The three women laughed, Lyndsey saying hello to Colin as he walked by. “He knows it’s a big ask of you and just wants to make sure you feel completely comfortable, even more so after the media crap this morning.”

“He loves you.” Tina added simply. Robyn felt her cheeks blush once more. “You know I had a lovely conversation with your mam the other day.” Tina decided it was time to change the subject. “She reminds me very much of you. Bright and bubbly.”

Robyn grinned. “I heard you two had finally had the chance to talk. For quite a long time too.”

“Not that long.”

“Nearly three hours I believe?”

Tina chuckled. “We had a lot to talk about. Getting to know each other.”

“Organising secret trips to each other?” Robyn asked.

Tina smiled a little. “I have always wanted to visit Ireland. Now I have an extra reason.”

“Pity I don’t have a guest room.”

“So he does share a bed with you when he goes to visit you. I have been trying to get that information out of him for weeks.”

Robyn’s mouth dropped before she sighed. “Walked myself into that one.” She looked to Tina. “I think since we have met, we have slept in separate beds once?”

“Loves a good cuddle my son.” Tina nodded. “But it was nice to speak to Lizzie. I have a feeling it the start of beautiful relationship.”

Robyn felt Tina nudge her a little and she shook her head. Her mother had been delighted to get the phone call from Taron’s mam and had definitely teased her daughter about her newly admitted feelings, having tried to get that information out of her since St. Patrick’s Day. The mothers had definitely enjoyed chatting and gossiping with each other, planning a visit in the near future.

“Hey what’s that look for?” Robyn was so glad to hear the comforting tones of Taron’s voice as he stood in front of her and she looked up to see a little concern in his eyes. “You want to head inside? Your seat is already reserved.”

Robyn shook her head. “Nope I am good, I promise. Tina was just telling me about the wonderful conversation she had with my mother on the phone.”

Taron grinned. “Been getting nothing but grief over that phone call.” He agreed. “Did you have to pass over the number?”

“Think I could say no to your mam last weekend?”

Sighing Taron agreed but his face turned to a smile. “Photoshoot done. I am going to do the obligatory press now with Lyndsey.” Taron turned to his mam. “If I leave Robyn with you, you promise to go easy on the questions?”

Tina chuckled. “Don’t you trust me?”

“Of course, but I would actually like Robyn to spend the rest of the weekend with me.”

“I will look after her as if she were my own daughter.”

Robyn laughed. “Go Taron. You know I can hold my own.”

“Against the media sure, but my own mother?”

Robyn gave his chest a little push. “You need to leave now before you get a clip around the ear. We will follow you as you walk.”

Lyndsey stood beside Taron. “There is a lot of press to get through. We had better make a move.”

Tina and Robyn followed Taron and Lyndsey as they made their way towards the row of reporters waiting for their interview slot with the cast of the movie, both standing back as Taron and his publicist made their way towards the metal barrier.

He was nervous about the press junket outside the movie theatre, praying that the questions didn’t stray from Kingsman franchise but at least he knew Robyn was in safe hands with his mam. Taking a deep breathe he moved to stand in front of the first camera directed to his face and gave a smile as he began the first of many interviews of the evening.

[ravenbrenna09]

Jij Verliest - Chapter One: Clip #1

master list teaser

...

Zaterdag 9:31

Lying awake in his bed, Robbe could hear the gentle shuffling of the flatshare in the morning.

Across the hall, the adjacent bedroom door opened and closed quietly. The floorboards creaked as someone made their way towards the kitchen (likely Zoë, his tired mind realized). Sunlight spilled in from the bay window in Robbe’s room. Due to the position of his bed against the opposite wall, he was free from the sun’s rays for a little while longer, but he was still wide awake. But the sun shined on everything else in his room; his untouched surfboard tucked behind his dresser, the skateboard against the windowsill. It even managed to touch his desk, positioned in the corner, with his two monitors and game systems, which still looked the same as Robbe left it last night, a little messy and disorganized from his late-night Friday stream.

Laying on his bed while his music lightly played a song that he mostly tuned out, Robbe could still hear the chatter of the growing crowd beneath his window, increasing in volume as time drew on and more and more people left the safety of their apartments to bask in the sunshine. Somewhere near the kitchen, he could hear the distant chatter of Milan and Zoë in the kitchen and the static of the television as someone flipped it on. All around him, the world signaled that it was time for Robbe to drag himself out of bed, to make sure that everything was going as it was meant to, and to get some food before he prepared for his afternoon stream or did some homework for the upcoming week.

But Robbe stayed planted in his bed, his gray sheets twisted around his waist, and twirling his phone in his head, unable to will himself to roll out of the comfort it provided. His alarm clock on the nightside next to his bed flashed bright red numbers—9:31—at him and the chatter in the kitchen had gotten louder. The smell of Milan’s favorite coffee filled the air, wafting into his bedroom, along with the sound of sizzling food as all three of his roommates chattered in the kitchen.  

But Robbe just felt empty. 

In the past three months, the world had carried on in a way that Robbe expected it to, just moving along on the continuous cycle that life crafted for them. But, somehow, he felt stuck—his feet cemented into the floor as the rest of the world spun around him like a tornado. The reality of the situation is that Robbe was stuck because the world had moved on. His friends had moved on, and they tried to bring him along with them, but Robbe always found himself doubling back, circling back around to the constant in his life that he felt was missing from his new present. 

Thomas.

Thomas Martens was Robbe’s boyfriend of a year and six months. While not the first man that Robbe had ever been with, Thomas had been, fundamentally, Robbe’s first serious relationship. All of his other boyfriends (and, in parts of high school, girlfriends) had only lasted a couple of months or less. It was nothing serious, just a few dates here and there, texts, maybe some risky ones, and then they would just split apart. Sometimes, it was mutual. Sometimes, it was circumstantial. Sometimes, it was Robbe’s brain exploding inside his skull. But they’d separate and move past the fork in the road that was the end of the relationship. 

With Thomas, it had been his first real relationship. Thomas had met his mother and they had gotten along swimmingly. Robbe had met his family and Thomas’s little sister half-demanded that Robbe would help her with her science homework every time he would come over. All of their friends got along well (with the exception of Jens who, in private, admitted that Robbe could do better). Their relationship was peaceful—some arguments, no fights that shook the walls, and they had even considered possibly moving in together after they reached the two-year mark. Their relationship was almost perfect. 

Almost.

Somewhere, the foundation of their relationship had cracked. Robbe could feel Thomas starting to pull away and his job was forcing him to stay at work later and later. It had frightened Robbe, because he had witnessed his father slowly pulling away until he walked out the door and his mother hit the hardest rock-bottom that she ever would. Without really meaning to, Robbe clung a little tighter to Thomas and their relationship. He subconsciously tried to be everything that Thomas needed, but he couldn’t—they weren’t working the same anymore, and so about three months ago, they had broken it off. 

While Robbe was still deeply rooted in the epicenter of the twisting tornado of change, Thomas had glided across the gales with an elegant ease that Robbe was jealous of. His ex-boyfriend had moved on, deleting his pictures with Robbe across all social media platforms, and going out with his friends more and more (or, even if he was trying his best to ignore it, at least that’s what his Instagram led him to believe). The only thing that remained of their relationship was the box of Thomas’s things in the corner of his bedroom, spilling with clothes that he had left at Robbe’s, which he still hadn’t come to collect. 

The thought of Thomas caused Robbe’s heart to give a frightening squeeze. He closed his eyes, trying to will away the thoughts of their relationship, the moments that Robbe still clung to, the ones that were still at the forefront of Robbe’s mind. But the harder he tried to push them away, the more intense they came back into focus, swirling around in his mind’s eye as if they were happening right now. Thomas coming over after work on Friday to be with him, his gentle kisses when Robbe was stressed about school work, his warm embrace that wrapped around Robbe like a blanket, his-

Knock, knock. 

The gentle knock pulled Robbe from his thoughts, bringing him hurtling back into his bedroom, no Thomas in sight, on a quiet Saturday morning. Beneath the crack of the door, he could see someone was standing outside of it. For a moment, he thought about acting like he was asleep, like he hadn’t woken up quite yet so he could lay in bed for another hour, but Zoë spoke up, “Robbe? We made breakfast if you wanted to come to join us.”

“Okay,” Robbe said, hearing the sadness in his voice. He tried to swallow down the bubble in his throat and ignore that it had ever existed. When he spoke again, his voice was clearer than it had been the first time. “I’ll be out in a second.”

“Alright,” Zoë said. He could hear Zoë shift away from the door, the floorboards creaking beneath her weight as she moved away, before she added, “I’ll try to make sure that the boys don’t eat all of the pancakes before you have a chance to get some.” 

“Thanks, Zoë,” Robbe said. A smile made its way across his face as he pushed himself off the bed. 

Pulling a pair of sweats from his dresser, he quickly slipped them over his boxers. Then, he grabbed his green hoodie from the back of his desk chair and pulled it over his head. Once he felt appropriately dressed—not like it mattered all that much with his roommates who were practically family—he stepped out of his bedroom and softly closed the door behind him. He shuffled to the kitchen, where he found all three of his roommates sitting at the table, talking as they passed food around. 

Robbe watched as Zoë rolled her eyes while Milan recounted a story of something or another. Milan spotted Robbe, grinning from ear-to-ear as he greeted, “Robbe!” He jumped to his feet and moved to pull Robbe into a tight hug. It was something that Milan always did; a constant stream of tactile affection without a thought. But today, it felt different. Robbe briefly sunk into Milan’s warm hug, wrapping his arms tight around him. Soon, the older man pulled back, grabbing him squarely by the shoulders and steering him to the table. Milan practically forced Robbe into the only unclaimed chair as he said, “Come join us!”

Zoë was sitting beside his newfound seat, wrapped up in a large grey hoodie with her platinum-blonde hair tied up in a ponytail. After placing two or three pancakes onto a plate, she handed it over to Robbe with a small smile on her face. 

“I’d hurry up if I were you. Lucas has his eye on the rest of them and he might just leap across the table and fight you for them.”

The final member of their small little family, and Milan’s cousin, Lucas van Der Heijden, looked absolutely appalled that she would say such a thing. Of the four, he was the one who looked like he had just rolled out of bed with his light brown curls messed up and pointing in all directions. He was wearing a large oversized red sweater that Robbe would bet was his boyfriend’s. Jens was Robbe’s best friend. He would know. 

“Hey,” he spoke, pointing his fork at Zoë dramatically. “I am not that bad… and it’s not my fault that your pancakes are to kill for.”

Milan laughed, shaking his head.

Zoë chuckled. Despite his earlier thoughts of Thomas, Robbe could feel a smile form on his lips as he placed the top two pancakes on his own plate. Once he was finished, Lucas made a child-like grabbing gesture with his hands and Robbe reached across the table to place the plate of remaining pancakes in his hands. Lucas grinned brightly at him and began cutting into his food. 

“Did you sleep well?” Zoë asked, raising an eyebrow at Robbe. “You were up pretty late last night.”

Robbe shrugged. “Yeah, I got about as much sleep as I could’ve gotten with a late-night stream that ran a little late because I wasn’t looking at the time,” Robbe admitted, taking a bit of his pancake. He turned towards Zoë, who was nodding her head. “Did I wake you up?”

Zoë shook her head adamantly. “No, you did really well sound-proofing your room. I just happened to wake up to go to the restroom and saw that your light was still on.” Robbe nodded, taking another bite of his food. “And I know that you’ve been streaming a lot lately.”

“Don’t worry, Zoë,” Lucas spoke up. “Robbe’s always one to know where his limits lie. In the time that I’ve known him anyway.” Robbe sent Lucas a thankful grin and the blond nodded his head in his direction. Between them, Milan sent them a knowing smile. “But do you feel like skating this afternoon? I don’t know if you’ve been listening to Aaron’s ramblings at lunch but he is absolutely convinced that he’s mastered a new move and he wants to show everyone.” 

“Really?” Robbe asked. 

“Yeah,” Lucas said, shrugging nonchalantly. “We’ll see if he ends up landing flat on his face or not. Wanna come?”

Glancing down at his food and shoving another bite into his mouth, Robbe thought about his unused skateboard, which had been sitting there since he last went skating by himself a few weeks ago.

Since he started doing late-night streams on Friday nights—one of his many (failed) attempts to push the absence of Thomas from his mind, from his life—he hadn’t been able to attend the Broerrrs Saturday morning skating competitions because he had stayed up too late and needed more sleep. He tried to make up for it by hanging out with them throughout the week, but his new schedule had reduced their time together significantly. That had been on purpose, to have as little free time as possible, so he wouldn’t have to think about Thomas, but it had the unintended consequence of limiting the time he spent with his friends. 

“Yeah, I’d love to come,” he said. Robbe could feel the lingering exhaustion that was present in every bone and molecule in his body, screaming at him for more sleep. But missing his friends outweighed his exhaustion. The four of them (five, counting Lucas) had lunch together on campus regularly. But hanging out for the 30-minute lunch before classes started was different than going to the skatepark on Saturday mornings to laugh and have fun. 

“Really?” Lucas said with a grin as his bright blue eyes lit up. 

“Yeah,” Robbe replied, grinning as well. Lucas’s smile had always been quite infectious. “I’m a little tired and a bit out of it, but I miss going skating with you guys. What time did they want to meet up?”

clip 2 (zaterdag 12:41)

[softbiker]

Born to Run - Chapter 4

Warnings: some language, descriptions of injuries

Word Count: 2.5k

A/N: this chapter features a proposition, some explanations, and an intro to a new character :) the response to this series has been overwhelming! I did not expect it to get very popular lol. As always, let me know what you think!

Steve flicked the cigarette he was holding and returned it to his lips. Its glowing tip lit his face from underneath as he took a slow drag, then exhaled through his nose, letting the smoke float around his face.

“She did a damn good job, way better than Barton.”

“Under pressure, too.”

“Does she have anybody here? Family or friends?”

Sam and Steve turned to Bucky, who had his arms crossed while he listened to their exchange.

“No one,” he shook his head. “She’s alone in that house.”

“That’s good,” Steve nodded. “Less of a risk.”

“So…” Sam looked between the two of them. “We all agree?” Steve raised his eyebrows at Bucky.

“No,” Bucky frowned. “But I know I can’t stop you.”

***********************************************************************

A week after the carnival, Y/N finally understood a bit more about her situation. After applying careful pressure to Charlotte, she learned that Mr. Van Horn’s use of the word “gang” was not a stylistic choice: Barnes and his friends run a motorcycle club called the ‘Avengers’ that had quite the reputation around town. Some feverish googling revealed that no criminal charges had ever been filed against the members, but it didn’t stop people from being suspicious. Several local news articles accused them of a string of vandal acts in 4 neighboring counties, spray-painting a skull and crossbones on public buildings and signs.

Y/N kept a close eye out for her neighbor after that - she listened for his motorcycle leaving the house and planned her own trips around his absence. She had the locks changed on the front door and went to the hardware store for a security alarm for the front and back doors of the house. Still, she was on edge whenever she was at home, alone in her quietly creaking house, with nothing but the sound of the TV for company. She started taking melatonin to help herself get to sleep at night.

As far as she could tell, Bucky was making no attempt to see her, either. He often left his house late at night and returned sometime after she had left for work, or stayed gone for a couple days at a time. If he worked a real job she couldn’t tell what it was - his comings and goings were so sporadic there was no way he was holding down a 9 to 5 somewhere. In any case, Y/N was just glad that their opposing schedules never allowed their paths to cross.

A week after the carnival, Y/N was sitting in her office at the clinic, filling out invoices for supplies. As a kid, she never imagined being a doctor would involve so much paperwork and planning, but somehow the dull minutiae of “real” jobs would always catch up with you. She puffed out a sigh and leaned back in her chair, refreshing the email page on her desktop. A reminder for a birthday party she wouldn’t be able to attend popped up, along with a student newsletter from her medical college she kept forgetting to unsubscribe to. She went back to her invoices.

A knock at the door startled her from her pile of paperwork. Charlotte poked her head in.

“Um, exam room 1,” she squeaked, clearing her throat before she continued. “The patient is ready in exam room 1.”

“Oh,” Y/N frowned. “I thought we had seen our scheduled patients already this morning? Is it an emergency visit?”

Charlotte’s eyes darted to the side before she nodded.

“Alright, then.” Y/N stood from her desk and slipped her lab coat back on. “What am I in for?”

“Um...I think you should just see for yourself.” Charlotte’s voice was tight, an octave higher than usual. She scurried back to her place at the front desk before Y/N could ask her anymore questions.

With her mind spinning a thousand worst-case scenarios, walked down the hall and opened the door to exam room 1.

Fuck.

The room was practically at capacity with the 3 burly men occupying it. On the exam table, swinging his long legs, was a smiling Steve Rogers; Sam Wilson sat in the chair next to him, browsing a pamphlet on STDs; and leaning against the wall next to the door was the man she tried so desperately to avoid - Bucky Barnes, in the flesh. His thick arms were crossed over his chest as he glared at the other two men, not sparing her a glance.

“Hi, doc.” Steve lifted his hand in a small wave. “I came to check up on my stitches.” Sam looked up over his pamphlet and waved, too. Y/N’s eyebrows furrowed.

“And you needed two friends to come with you?”

“Yes, ma’am,” Rogers nodded.

“We’re here for moral support,” Sam piped up.

“Uh huh.” She glanced at Bucky again, who continued to give her the cold shoulder. “Okay. Should only take a couple of minutes.”

She washed her hands, worked on a pair of gloves, and stepped closer to examine Steve’s forehead. Having three large, and reportedly dangerous, men in one small exam room with her set her nerves on edge. Their complete silence while they watched her certainly didn’t help at all, but she was nothing if not a professional, so she took her pen light from the pocket of her lab coat and leaned into his personal space as if it didn’t bother her.

“Hm. This has healed up nicely, Mr. Rogers,” she nodded, tucking the light away.

“Just Steve is fine.”

“Steve, then. Let me just cut these stitches out and then you can be on your way.”

“Sounds good.”

She opened the cabinets above the sink and pulled out some bandages, scissors, tweezers, and alcohol wipes, laying them all out on a moveable tray next to the exam table. She could feel Bucky’s eyes on her and it made the hairs on the back of her neck stand up. Still, he was silent as he kept his place by the door.

While she wiped down the area and started clipping the stitches, Sam made light small talk - asking about her weekend, how she was enjoying the clinic and the town, if she’d be going out of town for Labor Day. Y/N wasn’t quite sure what to make of it all, but gave him polite, short answers. She never asked him about himself, but she’d prefer to stay at arms length of all these men.

She swiped the cut again with an alcohol wipe and then covered it with a bandage, stepping back from the table.

“Alright, you’re all done, Steve.”

“Thank you, doc,” Steve smiled appreciatively. “You do good work.”

Y/N shrugged, tugging her gloves off and tossing them in the trash.

“It’s not like you really have a lot of options.”

“You’re right,” he nodded, looking at Sam. “Which is why...we have a proposition for you.”

Y/N blinked. Had she heard him correctly?

“What does that mean?”

“I think you must have heard about us by now, doc,” Sam said, rising from his chair. “The Avengers could use a medic like you.”

“We’re...accident prone,” Steve added. “And as you know, there’s not a hospital nearby, so we’re stuck with having one of our members doing a little first aid whenever we get beat up. But having a real doctor around? Could really save our asses.”

“I’m sorry...what exactly is it that you’re asking me to do?”

“It’s just some extra work on the side. After clinic hours, you’d be available for a member of our club if they needed any medical care. We could come to your place or bring you to the clubhouse, we’ll get you any supplies you need. And of course we’ll pay you.”

Steve was calm and confident while making his pitch, Sam standing beside him and watching her closely. Y/N’s brain was spinning. They were basically asking her to join their motorcycle club, right? Staying at the clubhouse and patching up their buddies? What the fuck was happening. She looked over at Bucky, who had stayed silent this entire time. His eyes were on her now, and they looked...wary. Tired. It was like he was asking her something but she just couldn’t hear him.

“No, I’m afraid I’m not interested.”

“Not interested? In getting extra money for doing your job?” Sam’s eyebrows went up.

“My job is running this clinic, not playing nurse for a biker gang,” Y/N fumed. She took a deep breath and squared her shoulders. “You’ve really got some nerve coming in here and telling me that - but I took out your stitches and answered your question, so I’m going to have to ask you to leave now.”

She crossed her arms, giving the three of them a final glare before opening the exam room door and motioning for them to get out. The men shuffled out, their massive height filling the doorway. Steve glanced at her as he passed.

“If you change your mind, the offer is still on the table,” he said. Then they were gone.

Back in her office, Y/N slumped forward and laid her head on her desk. What the hell was that? How was this happening to her? ‘Young doctor moves to a small town, joins a biker gang’ sounded like a really bad premise for a movie.

She ate her lunch alone at her desk, obsessing over the situation. Joining a biker club was insane. Completely batshit. There was no chance in hell she would consider it. But on the other hand...Steve had said they would pay her. How much could they offer? She had to admit, she was weakly tempted by the money. If an extra paycheck helped her pay off her student loans faster, she could get out of here...move back to the city, back to her life. Her texts were full of friends begging her to come back and visit, sad that she was stuck in the middle of nowhere. Besides Charlotte, she hadn’t really managed to make a lot of connections here. It was lonely and hard...and patching up a few bikers on the side for a year or so could get it all over with.

But no, she told herself. Still not worth it. Absolutely not worth getting arrested when the Avengers got busted for drugs or human trafficking or murder. These bikers could end up ruining the rest of her life. No way. She’d take the slower, safer route, even if it was more boring.

Around mid-afternoon, Stacey, one of her other nurses, announced another walk-in patient.

“He says he wants you to look at his shoulder, he thinks he might have injured it in a football game,” she shrugged. Y/N nodded and slipped into the exam room.

Yet another large, muscular man in her clinic - where was this town getting all of these beefy men? He had removed his leather jacket and was sitting on her exam table in a white t-shirt and jeans; his hair was shaved on the sides and longer on top, slicked back from his forehead, and his arms were covered in tattoos. He had a nice enough face, she thought, even though he looked like his nose had been broken one too many times, and there was something...shifty about him. A little greasy.

“Good afternoon Mr…” she glanced at her chart. “Rumlow, is it?”

“Oh, you can call me Brock,” he smiled, a little sleazy.

“Okay, Brock. So it’s your shoulder bringing you in today?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Okay. Let’s have a look then.”

He nodded and pulled off his shirt before she could tell him not to, revealing even more tattoos across his muscled skin. He turned halfway, showing her his right shoulder.

“Oh, wow. Um, well there’s a lot of bruising here,” she said, stepping closer. The skin all around his shoulder and collarbone was bruised purple and blue. “How did this happen?”

“Playing football with some buddies,” he sighed, turning to give her that smile again. “I guess we like it a little rough.”

“Hm.” She ignored his comment. “Can you rotate it?”

She tested his range of motion, felt the area and asked about his pain. She brought Stacy back in and did an X-ray, to check for a break in his humerus. The results all seemed fine, which was a relief, as she was starting to feel uncomfortable with the way he was looking at her.

“Well, the good news is that you don’t have any broken bones - I think you just have some really deep bruising from the impact,” she said, putting her X-rays to the side. “So I would advise you to just be gentle with it, take it easy, and put some ice on it every day. The muscles need a little time to heal - so no football for now.”

“Alright, doctor’s orders,” Rumlow raised his hands in surrender.

“Anything else?” Y/N asked politely, ready to be out of the room.

“Well...now that you mention it,” he said slowly, pulling his t-shirt back over his head. “I was wondering if you were taking on any new patients. No special conditions - other than a sweet tooth, that is.” There was something in his smile, like he knew something she didn’t. She cleared her throat.

“If you’d like for us to keep your information on file, you can ask Charlotte at the front desk and fill out some paperwork,” she nodded.

“Alright then.” He hopped off the table and turned to slip his jacket back on. She could see a skull and crossbones tattoo on the back of his neck.

“Have a good day, Mr. Rumlow.”

“Brock.”

“Right.” She held the door for him and was glad when he was down the hallway and out of sight.

*************************************************************************

Y/N was in bed by 9:00 that night, too tired to care. Maybe living in an old woman’s house was turning her into the spinster she had always feared. But today was just too much, and she crawled into her bed with her clothes still on and passed out.

She woke to someone pounding on her front door.

Blearily she glanced at her alarm clock - 2:05 am. Why would someone be here at that hour? The pounding continued as she dragged herself out of her warm covers and stumbled towards the front door, remembering to grab her pepper spray off the lanyard on her nightstand. She crept up to the door on soft, silent feet, waiting for the banging to stop.

“Who is it?” she yelled when they took a break.

“Bucky,” he called, sounding exhausted. “Please, open the door?”

She hesitated, her hand hovering over the knob. This man was the rumored enforcer of a dangerous motorcycle club. She should not help him or be his friend, or let him in to her house at 2 in the morning.

“Please?” he called again. “I’m not gonna hurt you, I swear. I just...need your help.”

She sighed. Probably more stitches, or a broken hand from punching someone. Y/N turned the lock and swung the door open. Bucky was leaning hunched against the door frame, one of his hands pressed to his stomach. In the glow of the porchlight she could see it was covered in blood, soaking the lower half of his shirt. He looked up weakly when the door opened, giving her an apologetic look.

“I didn’t know where else to go,” he panted. “I’m sorry.”

[kanene-yaaay]

Cloudy Day

Author’s Notes: Heeeyioooo, my lollipops! Okay, this is a gift for my Awesome Birthday Week Buddy: @august-anon!! (I still don’t beliving our birthdays are in the same week! XP) Yaaaay! Sparkles!! I’m know it was last week and I’m sorrey for being late dfghjhgfsdf. I hope you like it, dear (And all of you too, lollipops!).

Okay! Now let’s begin!! Yesh! I’m sorrey for any spelling mistakes, I just put this on Google Translator and corrected some setences X’”). Dfghjhghjuhgf. Sorreey! See ya! ~

Warnings: This is a Tickle Fanfic, if you don’t like, please, look for another storie in this site, there’s a plenty of wonderful arts here! Hmmm... Ah! There is Lee!Virgil and Ler!Logan. Something around 3.000 words. -w-)s2.

                                                    [~*~]

It was a cloudy day, and cloudy days were signs of foreboding.

Blackbeard died during a storm, many said. (Perhaps more for the bloody battle he fought during the natural phenomenon than for itself, but that was kind of a understanding that few really understood.) The Kraken awakens during the worst thunderstorms and windstorms that shakes him from his sleep as shake the deepest of the seas, a thousand and one poems recited. The ocean floor is filling with ships and the shattered treasures of those who couldn't escape the rains and their tides, they warned. Some older, more experienced pirates, also meaner, could not be left out, commenting between smiles and a few doses of rum: Beginner's ordeal.

But Virgil denied, not because he was novice or so experienced that he no longer saw it as a challenge, just thought it was unfair to ignore all the good things that cloudy days can bring. Often the clouds, the cold wind, and the faint appearances of the sun's warm rays were more signs of a change than a storm.

So he liked to enjoy them.

Preferably lying in the small, but comfortable, Mast cabin. The perfect resting place: high enough to close your eyes and get lost in the scent of saltwater brought by the cold wind; a place where nothing, not even a problem, could reach you, where you found yourself almost touching the sky at the same time it was low enough to hear each one of the crew on their tasks as a little reminder that there is always somewhere (and someone) to go back to.

He took a deep breath, taking advantage of the wave of inspiration to get back to his story. It was not one of his largest, only a little over than five pages, made just to quench the sudden, insistent, uncontrollable tickle desire that had practically woken up with him that day. He barely contained the uncontrollable smile that opened up on his face and the way he squirmed slightly as he described the protagonist (who was caught by his friends in the middle of his mission to steal the fridge and now 'suffered' the consequences) being attacked without mercy in all its ticklish spots: the sides, sensitive to the slightest squeeze and nudge, the belly full of laughter, the neck colored by the blush and all the scribbles, absolutely impossible to ignore, along with...

Virgil found himself letting out a series of giggles, blushing at no one in particular. He filled a few more lines until he began to imagine the pairs of hands coming out of the paper, their fingers wriggling playfully, making him realize his onwed fate when they tickled him.

- AAAAAAAH !! - Initially it was just one scream, quickly being doubled with the help of the on with purple bandana, who practically hurled his entire storie through the boat with the jump in the fright obtained. He quickly recompose himself, turning toward the kitchen, where a Roman (“How could he stand to be shirtless at this weather?”) gestured wildly. - It's cold! It's cold! COLDCOLDCOLDCOLDCOLD !! PAAAAAAAATTON! IT'S TOO COLD TO WASH THE DISH!

It was almost audible the stubborn expression in the other's tone. The one on the Mast tried to control his unrhythmic breathing, leaning against the half wall of the cubicle. 

Roman...

- Be cool, kiddo! You can do it, ‘cause you're hot!

Virgil didn't listen to the rest of the conversation, trying to slow the excitement of the euphoric butterflies fluttering in his stomach and the intense heat wich spreaded all over his face. His heart skipped a beat.

 He needed a glass of water. Maybe two.

He clipped the story sheets together and slipped down the loose strings of the sails, stopping on deck and heading toward the kitchen quickly.

- V! I heard you scream! Are you hurt? - The quartet's father figure did not wait for a response as he grasped his shoulders, his eyes at the same time scanning every square inch of his being for the slightest damage.

- N-no, I ... - And if those hands would go a little higher and scratch your neck ... VIRGIL! Focus! - I just freaked out about Roman's morning drama.

He looked away, a little ironic smile in the face. Well done, Virgil, he congratulated himself, acid teasing is always a good way and a safe ground.

By that movement he did not notice Patton's gaze, which frowned for a few silent seconds, suddenly seeming to notice something different in the other. A small detail that he couldn't really distinguish, just knowing it was there. His expression softened, sending to him a loving look.

“When will you tell, my kiddo?”

They both shook their heads slightly, trying to frighten, or perhaps shuffle and confuse, their thoughts. The eyes met shortly after. The pirate with glasses (it seemed like the beginning of a chronicle) laughed.

- Don't be mean to him. - Warned before hugging him. - We'll dock tonight, what do you think we leave tomorrow morning to get supplies and new spices? - The animation in his voice was practically palpable. The hug tightened a little more. If those hands changed to his ribs...

- Of course, Patton. - Virgil was the first to break the touch, a simple smile being the perfect mask for the huge search in his mind of every possible curse which he could use to curse his Lee Mood. - That would be great.

- Oh. And be careful with weather for not get a flu, you're already red.

 Correction: Scarlet. Patton gave one of his angelic smiles and left.

Okay, he decided, feeling his ears got hot, maybe three glasses of water. Cold water. Very cold.

He finished serving himself and returned to the deck, his mind already returning to a few increments in the plot of the story. He just had to go through Logan, which would not be difficult since he was concentrating on reading his papers, finding the pencil he had dropped on the floor with the earlier fright, returning to the Mast-

Hang on.

Logan. Reading some papers.

His body froze.

“Maybe it's not mine. - He tried to convince himself, the very thought sounding insecure. - Maybe it's ... it's from Roman! He loves to do things and show and ... and ... ”

His own body propelled him forward involuntarily. Wobbling, heavy, steps more noisy than he wanted, but to be honest, his desires were focused on something else right now.

Logan looked up, half flushed, half smiling. An expression that totally faded as met with the one wearing the purple bandana, replaced by one of guilt, like a child caught in the midst of his prank. Virgil stared at the papers, recognized the capital letters for laughter, the ideas written in the margins, the light wrinkled in the paper’s conner, his handwriting ...

His hands sweated cold.

- Virgil, it was not my intention ...

Virgil always had two strategies for every difficult situation he faced in life: Flight or Fight. So his muscles tensed, his hand closed with a strong grip, he flexed his legs.

And then dashed off to his room.

[~*~]

He first thought of tossing himself out of the window, then thought of tossing Logan out of the window, then thought of tossing the story out the window, and finally thought of tossing the window out the window, but none of these options seemed like could solve his problem.

He had already wondered what he was going to do when they found out, of course. Everyone who kept a secret had already taken some part of their lives to figure out what to would do when their secret stopped to be, well ... secret

But right now all the plans, the lines, the movements ... everything (everything!) was gone from his mind. It was blank, like a cloud crumbling with its hands up in the act of surrender. Virgil sat on the bed and buried his face in his hands, feeling how sweaty and trembling they were.

Logan. Where would he be now? What would you be doing? Was he telling everyone? Was he showing his stories? All? Had he found others on the Mast? Had he thrown them into the sea? Was he thinking of throwing he into the sea? No, wait, this is too extreme, it wouldn't happen. But he might find it weird, oh gosh, he could think that Virgil was a freak, that was easier than the ‘tossing in the ocean’ thing, but not better. He would look at him strange and-

The one in purple took his pillow and hid his face in it, hugging the object with all the strength he could muster. Stayed like that for a while.

When he finally stopped, he was panting, his heart pounding, however now he had something to focus beyond his own thoughts. He looked up and stared at himself in the small mirror on his desk. He was a mess. He buried his face in his hands and took a deep breath.

One, two, three, four...five... six... seven...

Eight.

Expires.

Inspires.

One, two, three, four...five... six... seven...

Eight.

Expires.

He faced himself once more in the mirror.

- You are not a freak. - His voice was low and he stared at himself determinedly. - You're not a stranger and even less your likes. If it makes you, no, if makes me happy, then everything is fine. Everything is okay, ok?

A knock sounded on the door.

- Virgil? It's Logan. - Short break. - I'm coming in.

There was no time to hide under the bed so, yes, when the one who wear glasses opened the door Virgil was still there. Kind of weird pose and staring at the wall, but technically, he was there.

Logan hesitated a little, maybe he should have waited longer? Have waited for him to calm down or come talk about this with him or...? He shook his head. No. He was there now and the subject seemed to be of a great importance to Virgil, so they would talk about it.

He sat on the bed, still not receiving a look from the other, until a small sheaf of papers was handed to him, a little over than five pages long, with ideas written in the margins. The purple lover caught, staring at it because it was a little easier than facing the most rational of the group.

- First I would like to apologize. - Logan began, sounding like he'd trained his lines. - You hurried out of the Mast and these papers ended up falling, and I got them in the intention to return to you, however I was led by curiosity and ended up reading. I shouldn't have messed with your things, and ... it seems that this particular thing matters a lot to you. - 'Hot' was a euphemism, Virgil felt his face in embers. - But I would like to add that your writing is really very engaging! - The one who was listening widened his eyes. Ok. He definitely didn't expect that. His attention was captured enough to raise his gaze, something that excited the wearer of glasses. - You have a great grammar mastery along with a wide vocabulary and you know how to use it to your advantage, managing to turn a daily plot into a light and fun reading.

Virgil couldn't hide the little corner smile. Logan was not someone who gave unsubstantiated praise or just for speaking, when he said it, it was sincerely. Their eyes met and before they knew it ended up questioning:

- Did you like it?

- Indeed. It was a very nice read. You should not hide it or be afraid of what others will find. Of course, there is always the possibility that someone doesn't like it, but I assure you that would be exceptions.

Wait...

- Do you think I ran away because of this?

Now Logan seemed a little groundless, as if he had broken his train of thought. He blinked a few times. Was there ... Was there a point he didn't understand? Something that he didn't realize?? His answer came out with a slight tone of doubt.

- Yes.

Oh. Ooh.

Virgil didn't know where it came from, but he suddenly felt angry that Logan didn't realize the ‘thing’ yet, and before he could even think about that, his mouth dumped it all at once:

- No. That was not it! It was for the content, for the plot: tickling! - The word tasted different when it came out loud, not whispered in the silents night. - The whole story revolves around this: tickling. Because I like it and I like write about it. It's catchy! The laughter of the people, the feeling of security, the contact, the trust, the smiles ... It's ... it's ...

- Lovely? - It was a complement more than a suggestion, a smile spreading across Logan’s face without asking permission.

Virgil felt wich even his neck was dyed red, but he could not help but return the gesture. It was... well, a good relief to tell this to someone, especially Logan, someone who he had often trusted his life along the trip and the battles. His gaze walked over Logan's face for a moment, searching for any trace of bad feelings.

Did not find.

- Yes.

Silence.

- Don't you think it's weird?

- Not really. I can fully understand why you enjoy it so much. It's your liking, if it doesn't hurt anyone, there's no point in not enjoying it.

Silence. Virgil felt a strange urge to laugh. Maybe it was the relief.

- It’s, indeed, - Logan completed. - lovely.

- Don’t say it. - Virgil grunted, still smiling, hiding his face in his hands. A poke at his side almost made him fell off the bed, a squeal escaping his lips as he pushed away. The one who wore purple stared at the other, anticipation almost lighting the room as bright his gaze.

- Virgil. - The tone made a shiver run down his spine and a slightly more uncontrollable smile spread across his face. It only served to increase the certainty in Logan's voice. - I'll tickle you. Get ready.

And then he ‘attacked’.

Virgil was definitely not prepared. Not when his fingers met his ribs, kneading them into circular patterns that immediately spilled a waterfall of giggles and squeals through his mouth, the sensations making him feel about to jump from his skin. His hands broke to grasp Logan's, gripping his wrists but making no effort to move them.

- Nohohohohohoho! Wa-wahahahahahahahait! - His nose was wrinkled and his eyes closed tightly, as if he might lessen the sensation for not seeing them. Virgil fell back on the mattress and Logan took advantage of the moment of distraction to get straight to the new unprotected spot: the belly, wasting no time in scribbling its full length, eventually increasing the squirming and streams of laughter from the first.

- Did you know that tickling sensations are a way twich the human body warns the brain that some area with important organs is being attacked? - The bespectacled’s voice was calm and methodical as it began to loosen fast grips, one hand concentrating on the sides of the other, as if it were not turning one of the quietest of the group into a pool of squeaky giggles, and the other hand quietly moving toward his belly button, bringing out more hysterical laughter and causing him to shrink more and more into himself, stucking the fingers rather than actually protecting himself. - Laughter and involuntary muscle impulses, more known as squirming, are the brain's way of defending itself, the because still a mystery. However, one thing we know… - Logan changed his method, starting to make circular movements around Virgil’s belly (giggle) button, dragging his fingers with unbearably light tickles, getting closer and closer to the center.

- Lohohohohohohohohohohoho, stohohohohp! I´ll- I´ll ehehehehehehehehehend withihihihihihihihihihihi - The one with the glasses went down a few millimeters, attacking the waist a little more vigorously, seeking Virgil to unfold and achieving the desired result successfully. - NahahaHAHAHAHAHAHAhahaha !!

- ...is that, depending on the touch and the place, sounds other than laughter can be observed, such as...

The tickling stopped, Virgil still laughing helplessly on the bed, squirming with the tiniest gust of wind.

Silence.

Absolute silence.

It was a trap, he was sure of it, yet he dared to open his eyes, catching a glimpse of Logan's slightly mischievous grin before focusing on the finger that twitched a few inches away from his umbiculous.

- Logan! Loghahahahahahan.- Laughter simply floated without permission from his lips, much higher than usual, the writer could feel his belly quivering with anticipation. Attempting to bite his lower lip to cover the smile and perhaps stop the laughter.Logan moved the only (damn) finger closer. Virgil squeaked and failed on every attempt. - Ple-pleasehehehehehehehehehe, I-Ihihihihihihihihihihi-

The finger struck quickly against his navel, scratching, scribbling and poking without the slightest mercy and completely taking away his chance to finish the sentence.

Virgil snorted. Literally snorted.

His eyes widened and his hands made way to cover his mouth, but their attention was captured by the unbearable tickling, letting them sway from side to side, trying to stop the tickling but to no avail.

- LohohOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOGAH !!! NAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHhahahahahahahahahaHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA !!! - The laughter came out shaking his whole body. Loud, carefree, frantic laughter. He flinched quickly, his head swaying from side to side as if to deny his fate, even though the huge, bright smile that seemed to light up the entire room, coupled with that warm, pleasant feeling in his chest, said the complete opposite. The remaining hand attacked his sides and ribs without any pattern or order, causing Virgil to practically jump with each touch, the laughter shifting from the high to the low tones.

- But, dear Virgil, I still have other sounds to show you! - His fingers drifted to his neck, pausing for a few sips of air, a pause filled with giggles. The ringing changed to the chin, pulling out a quick yelp. - Snorts, squeals, giggle, laugh, yelps…

The tickling lasted a few more minutes, until his laughter became breathless, so Logan ceased the attack. Virgil immediately rubbed his palms over his neck, trying to remove all the remaining sensations and to make sure that his face had not melted with all the blush nor broken with the size his smile was, I mean, is.

- Are you alright?

The one who wore purple opened one watery, twinkling eye, staring at him, his mouth pronouncing before he could think of the real weight of his words:

- J-just those sounds? I thought as an explorer you hated to be content with few results.

A different look passed and settled on the other's face, then expanding and taking over the Logan's, once kindly, expression. It caused a sudden electricity sensation in the air, his whole body crawling and laughter beginning to fill his throat with euphoria.

- I understand.

In the blink of an eye Logan's hands found his armpits. Virgil felt his breath and the world stop for a long second… and then his fingers twitched.

Virgil literally screamed.

- NononoNOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOHO! LO-LOHOHOHOHOHO- I´M SORRAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAY. - His head was thrown back with the force of laughter, his body squirming for an escape route, even though no matter how much he moved, the sensations followed. His mind was blank, unable to really focus on anything but the poking, scratching, tickling that made eveen his nerves laugh and made him unable to form any words, coherent or not. His heels sank into the mattress, lifting his torso for a moment, until the tickles floated lightly at the base of his back, causing his body to fall back onto the bed. - NAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA. WAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAI-

It took a few minutes before the tears began to wash down his cheeks and the laughter became silent. Logan immediately stopped at this point.

- As you can see we also have as examples the scream and the belly laughte. r- The smile was noticeable in his tone. - I think these are enough examples.

- Yehehehes. You got ihihihihit.

- Did I go too far?

Virgil shook his head, wiping tears, the remaining laughter finally stopping. He heard the door slam shut and when he opened his eyes Logan was no longer there. Tried to replay his memories in order to have done something wrong or what else might have bothered the other as his breathing returned to normal frequency.

When he managed to sit on the bed, preparing to leave, Logan returned with a glass of water in his hand, handing it over to the other, who had not realized how thirsty he was until that moment. He took the glass and drank its contents in a few sips, the room surprised with the sudden silence.

For some people cloudy days, days that could mean a storm or a sunny day, were signs of foreboding, but Virgil didn't see them that way. Sometimes a cloudy day is just exactly what it is: a day for changes.

- Thank you. - They both knew what the thanks really meant.

And, perhaps, for others, those who did not live sailing and exploring the seven seas, cloudy days could mean something else. Perhaps it could be known as a day to enjoy a good hot drink, a comfortable and safe place, good company, or the warmth which human being can provide. The confidence this can bring.

- You could had kept your secret when I - Logan waved his hand, as if to ward off a fly or a slightly annoying memory - didn't realize it at first.

Virgil shrugged and looked away, tapping the empty space beside him on the mattress, an invitation that was not declined by the other. He grabbed a book under his bed, the one with pages that talked about the secrets after the End of the World and the stars, and offered it to the most racional of the crew.

- It's cloudy outside, we can catch the flu if we get in the evening wind. Want to read?

And so it was. Days of change, days of strengthening ties, days of sharing memories ...

- It's a good option. Thank you.

It was a cloudy day, pleasantly cloudy.

[heyits-kk]

One Door Closes, The Devil Opens Another

Chapter 1

Summary: How does one enter an elevator in New York and end up in LA, specifically Lucifer Morningstar's elevator? I have no idea, but I need to find out and enlist the help of the devil himself.

AO3 | FFN

Life in New York isn't as grand and magical as it is in shows and movies. Yes, there are moments, like the holidays, and specific areas that have a feeling of wonder, but honestly it's mainly for tourists. At the same time, growing up here makes you appreciate the little nuances of the city finding hidden gems along the way. New York is still the place I’d rather be than anywhere else. That's how I feel about it, Kate, a twenty-eight year old woman currently pushing her way through the onslaught of people trying to make an appointment. I’m only about two minutes away, but sadly ten minutes late.

"Why did they have to choose such a busy area?" I mumble to myself while trying to fix my dark brown, almost black, straightened hair. Giving up and I decide to pull it up into a high ponytail. "And why during rush hour of all times!?" I exclaim.

I reach the building at Union Square and luckily catch the elevator. While going up to the tenth floor, I check that my equipment is okay from all the jostling earlier. Sighing in relief, I smile to myself and rejoice, "Great, now to work some magic!"

Three hours later and I’m all alone packing up my things ready to leave after having a smooth session with the client. Usually it wouldn't take long to put everything away, but for someone who's five feet juggling a lot of cumbersome items and exhausted, it's a bit more time consuming, not that I mind. I’m not someone who likes to be social all the time, I’m definitely an introvert. After having to be professional and chatty for so long, I can now recharge my batteries in the quiet.

The only sound in the empty studio is the slight hum and ticking of the pipes from the central heating. Complimenting the sound are lights dancing on the ceiling as cars pass the side of the building. Plus, in this alone time, I can freely sing to myself without worry of any judging ears. So, I start a playlist from Spotify on the phone and get lost in the music as I finish up.

Another ten minutes goes by and I pack the last few things neatly in the bags. At the same moment of me taking a sip of water, a slow song starts to play, a love song. Usually I loves slow songs, but after the session today with the couple, seeing them so in love with each other, it just makes me sigh. "One day..." I quietly say to myself. When it comes to the romance department, I’m a romantic, but fail horribly at it and I just don't try anymore. I tell my friends that I don't care and it’s fine, but as I see them with their partners of many years now getting engaged, I can't lie anymore. No matter how enjoyable it is to have that alone time, it doesn't mean I want it to be all the time. Shaking my head to get rid of those thoughts I tell myself sternly, "No need to think about that now. My time will come...there's no rush."

I stop the song before it finishes and assume that I'll be met with silence again, but that's not the case. Surprised, I turn to the window noticing that it's now raining heavily. Moving closer to the huge windows, I jump seeing a flash in the dark sky followed by a loud booming rumble.

"Are you kidding me?" I moan throwing my head back. I turn to the three large bags that were hauled here earlier today. "There's no way I can take these in the rain. I mean, they say the bags are waterproof...but I'm not risking it." I contemplate for a moment and fiddle with the two rings on my right hand, before deciding the only thing I can do at the moment. Putting on my jacket, getting my phone and grabbing my backpack, I head to the elevator. I step in and press the button for the lobby.

"I'll just ask for them to hold it and pick it up tomorrow, that should be fine." I remark while playing with the rings again and looking at the numbers slowly descending. Checking the time, it's 11pm. Sighing I mumble, "Maybe I can still rewatch at least one episode of Lucifer with some ice cream before bed." I smile thinking about the show. It's been one of my favorite shows recently. I’ve already binged the whole series and even saw a tiny clip of Lucifer guest starring in a CW show that aired recently. I’m definitely excited to see what happens in series five, but until then I'll rewatch the previous seasons.

The elevator dings and I step out into the lobby. I shuffle over to the doorman and ask, "I have equipment that I can’t take with me in the rain. Is it possible for me to leave it here and pick it up in the morning?"

"What floor is it on?" He asks me with a tired expression.

"It's on floor ten, the studio." I quickly respond.

The doorman sighs before saying, "That's fine by me, but come early or your stuff may not be there when you come back."

"Thank you so much! I'll make sure to be here as soon as the building opens. Have a good night." I respond happily. The doorman does a quick nod and goes back to his computer.

I then escort myself out of the building and into the rain. There wasn't supposed to be any rain today, but now it's a full-on heavy downpour. Sadly, I get soaked in a matter of seconds because an umbrella was not needed earlier today. Hurrying down the block, I stop halfway digging into my pocket for a Metro card only to find out the keys to my apartment aren’t there. With a loud groan, I turn around and rush back into the building.

Expecting to still see the doorman at his station since it’s only been a minute, I surprisingly see there’s no one in the lobby, not even the janitor. Thinking to myself, 'Okay...weird. I like the quiet, but not this eerie vibe going on. Let me just quickly get my keys before I'm locked in this building.' I scramble quickly to the elevator and tap my foot impatiently waiting for it. Glancing out the glass doors, the storm somehow gets worse. From the corner of my eye I see something flicker near the elevator, but as I turn my head back nothing seems out of the ordinary.

Finally, the elevator opens and I jump inside. Everything goes smoothly until the second floor, where the elevator light blinks. Again I fidget with my rings getting nervous, thinking, ‘Please don't let me get stuck in here.' Once the elevator passes the fifth floor, it jerks to a halt.

"No no no no!" I exclaim with my back against the wall. There's a moment of silence in the air and just as I start to relax a little, the light starts to flicker rapidly. "No! What the hell is going on!? Help! Help!" I shout in a panic. The elevator starts to shake and I fall to the floor. There’s nothing to do but hug my knees thinking, 'It's going to fall! I'm going to die! I was just going to get my keys and go home! Why me!?’ I sob as the shaking continues, 'Help me please! Help...'

Opening my eyes, I squint through the flashing lights and notice the elevator walls seem different, like they're glowing. I hesitantly reach out my hand to touch the wall and in that moment, the lights slow their erratic behavior. 'They're....gold? But, it was gray before. How?' I ponder. The shaking also stops and I slowly get to my feet glancing around now. 'It wasn't this big before.' stating to myself. From the corner of my eye, I spot the elevator buttons have changed as well. There are way more floors and at the bottom there’s a keypad.

Completely confused I question, "Where the hell am I?" As if someone is listening to me, the door opens. However, it just leads to more confusion and now panic. As soon as I stumble out, something large flies right in front of my eyes and crashes into, what looks to be in the millisecond I saw in the dark lit room, shelves of glass bottles. On reflex, I close my eyes and throw my arms up to shield myself from the flying shards. Suddenly, I hear the crunching of the glass and a groan that's not my own. Upon hearing footsteps slowly approaching and a voice that I somehow recognize, I immediately lift my head directing my eyes towards the sounds.

"You justify it all, don't you?" remarks the man with a posh sounding English accent in a tailored suit. He grabs a tall muscular man that got up from where the glass shelves were before by the neck. I can only stare in utter shock thinking, 'That's...not...possible.'

The well-dressed man goes on clearly agitated, "Claim it's all done in the name of our father, but... it's for your sake, brother. And they call me the prideful one."

"Enough!" someone yells from the left side of me. The two men and I turn our heads towards the female voice. Before I’m even able to begin processing what is happening, the female continues, "I'm the pawn. You both used me." She approaches the men and pulls out two curved daggers from her back as she hisses out, "You know what? Here. Kill each other." The woman slams both the daggers down onto a table in front of her and marches back to the stairs leading downward. The woman pauses a moment and adds dryly, "By the way..." She points her finger directly at me lazily. This snaps me out of the daze I was in and reminds me just how nervous I am at the moment. The woman’s eyes linger on me with a straight face stating, "...you have an audience."

She then disappears down the stairs while I feel two sets of eyes now directly on me. Slowly, I peek over at the men and they are in fact staring at me with confusion and wide eyes. The tailored man releases his grip from the muscular one and starts advancing my way slowly.

"Well, hello. Who are you supposed to be and what business do you have with me?" He says with a tight smile clearly not in the mood. I try to stutter out anything, but with my mind blank and throat dry, no words come out. The man insists more annoyed, "Well?"

As he moves closer, I lift my arms instinctively, but when I do, all it results in is pain. I was already lightheaded with feeling overwhelmed with what has been going on, but presently I have a feeling it was actually for a different reason. Peering down at the source of the pain, I stare at the torn and blood-soaked sleeves of my jacket. Slowly turning my arms, there's glass shards on the back of them.

From the horrifying experience of the elevator to the scene I just witnessed with the men and woman. Of course to top it all off with the shock of my injuries, it's too much. I start to take rapid short breaths with my eyes flashing up to the man in front of me who now wears a slight bit of concern on his face. He starts to fade from my vision and then my knees give out. Instead of feeling the impact of the glass covered floor, I feel a set of arms catch me.

"Bloody hell." I hear the English man curse under his breath. I muster up what I could to lift my head and try to utter something to the man gazing down with some anticipation.

All I can mutter before blacking out is, "Tom?"

The first thing that grabs my attention when slowly waking up is that it’s dark which suggests that it’s still nighttime. I try to lift my body, but quickly fails because of a stinging sensation. However, from that little bit of movement, I gathered some information of my whereabouts. My hands feel again what I’m laying on and it’s the texture of silk. I think to myself, ‘I don’t have anything silky in my apartment.’

With an attempt number two, now anticipating the ache, I successfully bring myself up into a sitting position. I take a moment to glance down at my arms to reveal they’re bandaged and the source of the pain. Shaking my head slightly and blinking a few times allows me to get my eyes adjusted to the dark just enough to figure out my location. The room is definitely big along with the bed I’m in. ‘Okay, am I in a luxury suite at a hospital, if they have something like that? Or maybe some rich philanthropist saved me from the falling elevator and I’m now at their penthouse. If neither of the two, then I have no idea and I should probably get out fast.’ Before fully leaving the bed, I’m stopped with the realization that something or things are missing on my person. ‘Where are my clothes!?’ I shout internally. With a new sense of alertness and energy, I jump out of the bed onto the cold wooden floors. Gathering the large sheet that was used to cover me, I try to wrap it around myself the best that I can. Continuing my thoughts, ‘There is no way this situation is good. My arms are bandaged and I’m naked! I have to get out of here.’

Perpendicular and off to the left of me there was a large open alcove. Bunching the bottom of the sheets so I don’t trip, I tiptoe silently. As I get closer, there’s a muffled voice, maybe two. They’re almost clear when I arrive at the edge of the alcove.

“What about her?” says a man with a deep voice. It triggers something in me, like I somehow have heard the voice before, but I brush it off to focus back on the task at hand. It’s not until I hear the other person that I freeze and I stop breathing for a moment.

“Ah right, the girl. Well, I’ll deal with that, brother.” comes a reply from a man with an English accent. I involuntarily let out a small gasp and hurriedly cover my mouth. It’s too quiet and they most likely heard me. I press my back against the wall and squeeze my eyes shut in hopes I wasn’t caught. I relax a little when the other guy adds mumbling, “And just when I thought I could have quiet evening after the night I had.”

The deep voice responds, “Just don’t scare her.” Suddenly there's a noise that sounds like a gust of wind.

Resting my head against the wall I remove my hand from my mouth and finally take the time to process the information. It’s coming back, what happened to me and why I blacked out. I think to myself, ‘I went back to get my keys, the elevator shook and I thought I was going to die…maybe I did? Or maybe I’m in a coma? Or it could be an elaborate prank? Those are the only ways this can make sense, how I’m here now…in this place…with them…with him.’ My thoughts are interrupted by a loud voice.

“Are you going to stand there all night pretending you’re invisible?” he asks.

Before hesitantly creeping out from behind the alcove I take a deep breath to try to control my nerves that have rapidly bubbled to the surface. I grip the sheets tightly as if they’re my lifeline to not fainting again as I finally take in the location. I’m definitely in a large penthouse, but this one is surprisingly all too familiar. The elevator door, the library, the balcony, the piano, and the bedroom I was previously in. The only difference is the smashed up bar area. To top it all off is the man who it belongs to, standing up from the leather chair with a glass of expensive whiskey in his hands. This is the Lux penthouse and the man right in front of me is Lucifer Morningstar.

I attempt to gather my thoughts, ‘I…but how…he’s…no cameras…this can’t be real.’ I must have looked dumbfounded staring at everything because Lucifer speaks again.

“Yes, I know this place is impressive, well excluding the bar. Sorry about the mess…and your arms. Good thing you humans have good reflexes or that would have been your face.” Lucifer says nonchalantly while taking a sip of his whiskey. I peel my eyes away from gazing at everything to look down at my arms with my hands gripping hard on the bed sheet, which then reminds me I’m still naked.

“My clothes.” I squeak out since my throat is in dire need of something to drink.

Lucifer casually states, “They’re hanging up in my bedroom. I couldn’t let you on my bed when you were soaking wet in them.”

My expression turns to shock and I ask, “Did you—”

“No, I had Maze take your clothes off.” He interrupts rolling his eyes. Lucifer then scoffs, “I have enough decency to not strip someone when they’re unconscious.” I let out a small sigh of relief, but at the same time think, ‘Maze isn’t that innocent…’ Lucifer then continues, “Anyway, enough with the small talk. I need some answers.”

I nod trying to clear my scratchy throat with no luck, so I ask him, “Do you have anything to drink?” He ponders for a moment then gestures me to sit on his leather couch.

As I shuffle over and sit, he moves towards the pile of broken glass at the bar. As Lucifer rummages through the mess, I suddenly have a thought, ‘So…there are no cameras, I can feel pain so it’s not a dream and it doesn’t make sense that this is what happens to me if I died. A coma is the most logical reasoning, but…what if this is actually real? It’s hard to believe it is because how? How did I get here? Why me? And…should I tell Lucifer or any of them they’re a show? That they’re fictional to me?’ I get pulled out of my thoughts with a glass being waved in my face. Taking a hand away from the vice grip I have on the bed sheet I grab it. My fingers ever so slightly touch his during the transfer and I jump a little at the contact. ‘Okay, so this can’t be a coma. I don’t think it can…feel this real if it was. I don’t know. I’ve never been in one before, but…it’s a gut feeling.’ I conclude to myself. I take a sip of the contents in the glass without even looking and immediately regret it coughing.

“Sorry, I know it’s not right to give alcohol to minors, but it’s all I had that wasn’t completely shattered. Besides, it looks like you need it.” Lucifer says as he takes a seat on the chair across from me crossing his legs. I take another swig now expecting the taste of whiskey and it’s much better. Then I let his words sink in thinking, ‘Every...time.’

I sigh responding, “I’m not a minor…I’m twenty-eight.”

“Oh well now you could’ve fooled me with your height alone. Anyway, now we’re getting somewhere! Finally some information!” Lucifer says light-heartedly with a grin and continues, “So how about a name?”

“Kate Perkins.” I tell him.

He nods gently and says, “So, Kate Perkins, why did you come to my penthouse dripping wet from head to toe when there wasn’t a drop of rain earlier that day? I mean, unless you fell into a pool?” I knew the question was coming, but what I didn’t expect was him referring to the events as “that day.”

“Isn’t it the same night?” I ask him confused.

He chuckles replying, “Oh no darling, you were out for quite a while and a lot happened when you were out.”

I hesitantly ask, “How long was I out?”

“All that…” Lucifer points to the bar continuing, “…was last night.” He takes a sip of whiskey while adding, “You actually weren’t in my bed until about an hour ago.”

“What do you mean?” I ask even more confused.

Now Lucifer scoffs leaning forward to pour more whiskey for himself saying, “If you must know, after you fainted I got framed for murder, and had to run from the police with the help of my brother. He for some reason brought you with us and after visiting my therapist to hideout, we left you with her to tend to your injuries.” If I wasn’t familiar with the show, I would be figuring out a way to run from him. However, this gave me helpful information in terms of my situation. ‘If I’m remembering correctly, that’s part of what happened in an episode…excluding me. I’m not sure which one, but…is this really going to play out like the show?’ Lucifer then adds, "I brought you back after I settled everything because I have questions. So, let’s continue shall we? Why did you come looking for me?”

Without even thinking about my answer I blurt out, “I wasn’t.”

“Then what was your purpose for coming here?” he asks. This time I take a moment and think, ‘I guess I’ll just tell him…but not everything.’

I respond truthfully, “I don’t know.”

Lucifer downs his drink then sighs clearly getting agitated and orders, “Elaborate.”

I take a deep breath staring at my hand while fidgeting with my rings and explain, “I’m from New York. Last night, I was there, in a building cleaning up from a photoshoot. When I finished it was raining.” I pause and correct myself, “No…it was a huge storm. I left my equipment and went down the elevator then left the building. I got soaked because I didn't bring an umbrella, but there was no storm scheduled for that day.” I glance over at Lucifer to see him listening, but gesturing me to get to the point. I sigh and speak again, “I left my apartment keys and went back to get them. It was odd going back because the lobby, that had at least three people, including the doorman, were suddenly gone.”

“Probably clocked out early.” Lucifer chimes in.

“No! I was gone for not even a minute and it was deserted!” I exclaim getting a little too emotional and it grabs Lucifer’s attention. I calm down and continue explaining, “Anyway, um…I had to go back to the studio, it was on the tenth floor. The light on the elevator started flickering when I reached the second floor, but I just thought it was because of the storm.” I chuckle thinking how stupid I was for that thought. Getting to the main part I grip the sheet tightly and then say, “It’s not until I got to the fifth floor that suddenly the lights went crazy and the elevator shook violently which made me fall to the ground.” I take a deep breath and mutter, ”I…I thought I was going to...”

I must have paused for too long because Lucifer asks, “What happened?”

I grasp my drink taking a sip and say, “I don’t know how to make it seem like I’m not crazy, but the elevator changed. The one I was in had small gray walls with the floors going up to fourteen. Then right before my eyes, the walls were gold, it was bigger and had more thirty floors with a keypad. The door opens and I see you choke-holding someone.” I take a breath and finish, “That’s what happened to me and I don’t understand.” Finally I lift my head to see Lucifer was no longer sitting in the chair, but by the balcony with his back to me.

There’s a period of silence before he speaks, “So, essentially you’re telling me that you transported from New York to here through elevators and you don’t know how or why?”

I give him a simple yes getting up and mumble, “Do you believe me?”

Somehow he hears and responds, “Yes, but it might not be as simple as you transporting across the country.” He huffs and steps out onto his balcony. ‘Yea, I know that’s true because I wouldn’t be talking to you if that was the case.’ I remark to myself. I proceed to follow him outside hanging back a little and watch as he lights a cigarette. After taking a long drag, he informs me, “There are such things as other worlds, specifically Earth and you my dear…” He turns to me and states, “…somehow jumped from yours to this one.” I remember the small CW clip of him that hinted about other Earths, but never thought it applied to real life.

The only logical response is asking, “How do I get back?”

Apparently this makes Lucifer laugh and say, “Oh darling, for me it’s simple, but for you humans, I have no clue.” He notices my silence and clears his throat adding, “But if you got here, you can probably get back.” I ponder for a good second before I make a decision I will most likely regret. I ask myself, ‘Should I really do this?’ With no other options, I walk up next to Lucifer a few feet away, lean on the railing and stare out at the view.

“Can you help me?” I mutter quickly.

He turns his gaze towards me, responding, “What was that?”

I take a deep breath and repeat, “Can you help me find a way to get back?”

“Are you asking for a favor?” he asks smirking.

“Yes.” I tell him. Expecting Lucifer to give me his hand to make it official, I lift my own up, but surprisingly that’s not the case.

Instead he says, “Before we make a deal, I have a few more questions.”

I’m curious about what else he wants to know and ask, “What else is there?”

“Well you my dear have been acting odd.” He accuses turning fully towards me. Before I can ask him what he means, Lucifer continues, “Ever since you’ve woken up, you have not asked me about your current whereabouts, question as to why I call people “humans,” and you just fully accepted that there’s more than one Earth. Furthermore, you have not even asked me for my name. The only thing you did ask me was how long you slept and for a drink.” I try to keep my composure when he moved closer until he towered over me while he spoke. ‘Okay…I’m in trouble. Telling him that his life is a television show and he’s fictional on my Earth would not be a good idea. I need to think of something fast, but he’ll know when I’m lying.’ I internally panic.

My thoughts are put on hold when Lucifer looks directly into my eyes and asks, “Tell me Ms. Perkins, what is it that you—” I interrupt him by tearing my eyes away and turning back towards the view of Los Angeles. ‘Oh no no! He is not going to do that to me! I have no idea what I’ll say. I might spill the truth to him, so I can’t risk it.’ I mull over while glancing over to Lucifer from the corner of my eye. He’s clearly annoyed that I pulled away before he finished.

“Well that’s because…” I start lingering a little before I continue, “…I just experienced this weird phenomenon in an elevator that I can’t explain and you seem to have the answer. I decided I’m just going to accept anything else that’s odd because why fight something I can’t control in this moment?” I then add, “Also, it looks like I'm in Los Angeles and after you asked for my name, I assumed you would introduce yourself.” Hoping that relieves his suspicion of me, I peer back over to Lucifer. He adjusts his suit and stands a little straighter.

He holds out his hand and once I hesitantly grasp it, he smirks introducing himself, “Lucifer Morningstar.” I’m unsure if he fully trusts me, but I’ll take it as a good sign. ‘I have to be more careful with how I act around him from now on.’ I make a mental note.

“Lucifer? Meaning—” I say acting the way he’s expecting me to.

He let’s go of my hand and finishes, “The Devil.” Even though I’ve watched him have this interaction on the show a number of times, it feels different. When it was on the show, I liked seeing the reaction of the person and I smiled. However, with Lucifer addressing it to me, with the smirk he always has on his face, it’s a bit unsettling. It’s not a show anymore. This is the actual devil standing in front of me. However, I do have an idea, ‘I've always wanted to mess with him and shake him up a bit when it came to this.’

“So…what would you like me to call you?” I ask him casually and before he responds I finish with, “Beelzebub? Satan? Lord of Darkness?” The only sign I see of Lucifer being caught off-guard by response is the slightest eye twitch.

He chuckles and says with a tight smile, “Firstly, it’s usually prince, not lord. And secondly, again you don’t seem to be…surprised with the fact that I just told you I’m the devil. Do you think I'm lying? Because the devil never lies.”

“Well, like I said before…I’ve already had strange things happen to me. It actually makes sense with the explanation you gave me about multiple Earths. I would think the devil is the one to know about things like that.” I reply to him. There’s an unexpected silence which causes me to look over at Lucifer only to find him staring at me with a puzzled expression. “What?” I ask him.

“So, you believe me, yet you’re not afraid?” he questions.

I confirm, “Yea,” and explain, “you haven’t given me a reason to be afraid. I mean, the situation, especially waking up without clothes, scares me, but you’ve actually been kind of helpful.” My outside response is different from what I’m thinking, ‘Plus, it helps that I knew who you were beforehand.’

Lucifer clears his throat and speaks, “Right well,” he puts out the cigarette and holds his hand out announcing, “I’ll help you get back to your Earth, but I’ll require a favor from you whenever I choose to use it.” This is what the night has been leading up to, making a deal with the devil.

I lock on to his hand, take a deep breath, and shakily take his in mine saying, “Okay, it’s a deal.”

“Great!” Lucifer chimes while turning to go back inside, “We’ll meet and start first thing tomorrow, it’s been a long day.” I follow behind, but stop with the realization I have nowhere to go.

Feeling stupid, I stammer out, “I need another favor.”

Lucifer spins on his heels and scoffs, “Honestly, we haven’t even fulfilled our first agreement.”

“I need a place to stay.” I mumble embarrassed.

He pretends to not hear me and jokes, “Sorry what was that? You need a face to sit on?”

“What!? No!” I shout taken aback. Recovering from his comment, I repeat louder, “I need a place to stay.”

He laughs, “Yep, heard you the first time.”

I include, “Just until I can get my own place temporarily.”

Grabbing his whiskey glass to finish the last bit he says, “Fine! You can stay here until you get yourself sorted out.” Lucifer puts his glass down on the piano making his way to his bedroom.

I exclaim, “Thank you!”

“Yes, yes. I’m mainly doing it to keep an eye on you. Anyway, it’s been a long day.” He says turning to me on the steps and points to another alcove on the same side of his room. “Guest room is down the hall and to the left, further down to the right is the washroom.” He informs me. Before I can comment, he says quickly, “Good? Okay, night.” He retreated into the room afterwards leaving me alone in the main room.

Not knowing what else to do and feeling awkward alone in Lucifer's penthouse, I head down the hall he mentioned. ‘This area was never shown in the show, I’m kind of curious with how it looks.’ I wonder with a hint of excitement. Reaching the door, I open it and surprisingly it’s like Lucifer’s room. The only difference is it’s smaller, the bed sheets are white, no stone carved walls, and it doesn’t have Lucifer’s things. I immediately make haste towards the bed and flop down on my back.

“I don’t think I’ll ever be able to fully let this sink in.” I whisper, “I just made a deal with Lucifer Morningstar in…no…clothes.” Hopping out of the bed hoping I can get my clothes before he falls asleep, I hurry to the door and open it, but crash into something. I move back to discover it’s a torso, specifically Lucifer’s.

“You left your clothes in my room.” He smirks amused and adds, “Second time I’m saying that to someone who I haven’t slept with first.”

I snatch the clothes from his hand embarrassed and stutter out, “Thanks.”

Right before I shut the door, he stops me and says, “One more thing.”

“What?” I ask tiredly.

“Why did you call me Tom?” he inquires with curiosity.

“What?” I ask again, but more awake now.

Lucifer explains, “Right before you fainted, you looked at me and said “Tom?””

I reply fast, “I don’t know.” I attempt to close the door again and he stops me a second time.

With a stern expression he says, “You do know. Why?” I think, ‘Oh no…I can’t tell him. Unless…’

I respond, “I thought you were someone else that I know.”

Lucifer examines my face for a second then smirks, “Well, he must be quite handsome.” I sigh finally closing the door in his face and through the door hear him chuckle, “Have a good night, Ms. Perkins!”

Dragging my feet to the bed, I fall face first this time. That wasn’t the best decision because my arms scream out in pain and I immediately turn over. Lifting my arms to fully examine them, I sigh clearly exhausted physically and emotionally. ‘I’ll figure more things out tomorrow like where I’m at in terms of the show and if it does play out like the show, what I should or shouldn’t do. I dealt with enough right now.’ I decide for myself and also think, ‘At least I know how to get around revealing too much to Lucifer. Don’t lie, but be vague with my answers. Hopefully I can keep up the act and nothing bad happened. I just don't know if I can handle him.’ After that, I drift off to sleep with one more thought, ‘But seriously...Lucifer Morningstar is actually real.’

Thanks for reading! I don't know how long this story will be, but look forward to more of it! I hope you're enjoying it so far!

[tightropenuzlocke]

Tightrope: a Y Storylocke

Chapter Three: Bring Wings to the Weak and Bring Grace to the Strong

Neuvartault was larger than Quarellis and far busier even at this early hour. The streets were straight, regular, and lined with stately townhouses that smelled of musty old money. Clearly the municipality contained hordes of wealth deep enough to have the flagstones relaid all neat and flat, enough to maintain the wall around the old city and the château on the hill that still reigned over them long after the lord himself was gone.   Aisling would have to hold out hope for Illumis because none of it held much appeal. However, since looking it up, she had come to appreciate the curving vine motif of all the signs, lampposts, and public benches leftover from the city’s Art Nouveau period. They did a lot to counter the rigidity and dullness of the place. She’d never spared much thought for it before, but maybe there was something to this decorative arts business.

Aisling passed by the grand square with its patinated copper Roselia fountain in favor of the little park on the quieter east end of the main boulevard while Cináed continued to snooze on her shoulder. The Neuvartault Gym was a far more modern building than most of the others, but the architect had been sensible to its surroundings and created a design that reflected the park around it as well as the older buildings across the street. The front was large, regular stonework with tall, arched windows while the back was an enormous glass dome held up by a webbing of steel. “Why exactly are you doing this now?” Cináed asked with a yawn. “I thought for sure you’d want to show off for your new friends.” “Because I want to be first and Serena will wake up any day now and realize she’s more than ready. I can show off the badge to them later.” Cináed eyed her. “Suit yourself.” Aisling glanced down at her belt to turn her face away from him and brushed her fingers over the pokeballs there, settling on the one with a little Lepidopteran motif engraved into the top. It turned out that shininess did not influence the coloration of Vivillon wings beyond giving the scales a more intense iridescent sheen. Dáire had the same deep blue and white of any other polar pattern variant. But her body had stayed a pale cream rather than turn gray, which complemented her wings quite nicely. Which was why Aisling sent her out as they approached the bug-type gym. Although she was now significantly larger than Cináed, Dáire fluttered nervously to Aisling’s other side to avoid his gaze. At least she hit hard since evolving. “I was thinking—” Aisling began. “Dangerous,” Cináed cut in. “What if you battled for the badge?” “Aisling,” he groaned. “It would be so easy for you! You’re already way strong enough and you have every type advantage in the book! We’d be in and out in minutes!” “Aisling, I’m not your pokemon.” “We can go to the Pokemon Center first and get you registered!” He turned away from her. “We’ve been over this. I’m not a battler.” “But you could be!” “I don’t want to.” He took off and landed on a nearby bench. She skipped forward into his line of sight. “But we’ve never even battled against any trainers together. Just one gym and then if you—” “I’m not doing it, Aisling!” He flared his wings for emphasis and his clear note struck her quiet. “I said I’d see you to the first gym and I have! After I watch your match, I’m going home.” Aisling clenched her fists, but couldn’t make her tongue form any words. Dáire fluttered by her shoulder. Aisling could never get a read on that stiff face of hers, but she was watching now instead of hiding. “You’ve got jitters.” Aisling had thought it, but it was Cináed who said it. He bowed slightly, placating. “And I understand, believe me.” She remembered how nervous he had been when they had first started battling, how much she’d needed to reassure him, how she’d punted that one Bunnelby herself when it wouldn’t get off him. “But you don’t need to be. I helped you put this team together and they’re strong enough. They’re ready for this badge. And you have your own strength too—I’ve felt it.” He gestured to his chest, to their bond, to the energy she poured into him when they battled. “That will take you anywhere you want to go.” He was right, she told herself, but she wavered. “You could stay on as a companion pokemon. I wouldn’t make you fight anymore.” Cináed sighed and shuffled his wings. “This move and then this trip with you is more than enough for me. I miss Grace and Raleigh and home. I wasn’t made for adventure.” Her eyes fell and her jaw clenched almost painfully. His white wingtip flitted in front of her nose as he pointed to her. “But you, you’re destined for greatness.” She let her gaze be guided back up to him and he puffed, standing up on his toes with his wrists up to look as big as possible. “You’re gonna show this region things they’ve never seen. You’ll bring them to their knees and carry them on your shoulders. And I’ll be watching. We’ll all be watching you the whole way.” She wasn’t going to cry… And she wouldn’t insist anymore either. “I’m going to miss you terrible, Cináed.” “Same here, Rough Rider. But you’ll call home, won’t you?” “O’course.” “And you can wear my feathers, so I’ll always be with you.” Aisling smiled and sat down on the bench next to him. Cináed hopped back onto her shoulder and nuzzled up against her cheek. She tickled him and then slumped in her seat, letting her head loll back and exhaling a long sigh. Cináed chuckled good-naturedly and Dáire alighted on the lampost to their left. Aisling should never have let her out before she talked to Cináed. Would Dáire say anything to the others? What would she tell them? “Excuse me, Mademoiselle, is that your Vivillon?” It was a gorgeous woman, probably in her thirties, with a pen tucked behind her ear. She wore a short-sleeve jacket with a generous opening at the top and one of those asymmetric, short haircuts that were practically illegal for straight women. “Why yes, she is, Madame.” Those silver jeans should have been illegal too. “I’ve never seen a shiny one before. She’s just lovely!” Aisling hummed and nodded in agreement, sparing not a glance for her pokemon. “Are you going to challenge the gym?” the woman asked, indicating the imposing facade to her right. Aisling straightened from her comfortable sprawl. “Oh, uh…” “You seem like a capable trainer.” A damn sight more than capable. “Why not give it a go?” She could still do this. What the hell was she even worried about? “Yeah, alright.” Cináed snickered on her shoulder, which was fair honestly, but she still brushed him off. “Excellent!” the woman declared, fist raised triumphantly, and Aisling hopped right out of her seat to that rallying cry. “This ought to be good. Let me walk you in.” That seemed a bit odd, but Aisling wasn’t about to argue. “I’m Alexa by the way. It’s a pleasure to meet you.” She eagerly accepted the hand offered her. “Aisling. A pleasure to meet you too.” Alexa put her hand on the small of Aisling’s back and she let herself be guided inside and right up to the front desk where she handed over her trainer card to whoever was working there. Cináed alighted beside her and she glanced over her shoulder to see Dáire almost get clipped by the automatic doors for her hesitation. She turned and slouched back against the counter. “Come here often?” “Like a second home,” Alexa said brightly, paying more attention to her registration than Aisling was. “Oh, is this your first gym battle?” “Yeah.” The clerk placed Aisling’s trainer ID back in her open hand. “The first time is always the most exciting!” Alexa leaned on the counter too, resting her chin on her palm. “Are you going to use your Fletching?” “Oh, Cináed?” she asked, pointing her thumb at him. “He’s just a friend.” Alexa laughed at that and Aisling laughed too. Holy shit, she was doing it! Aisling declined the opportunity to battle other trainers first and made sure Dáire was following as Alexa took her past the photo gallery to the middle of the greenhouse where there was a packed-earth battlefield. The air was heavy and full of buzzing wingbeats. Another woman emerged on the other end of the field in a white tank, dull green cargos, and heavy hiking boots. She had an expensive professional camera slung around her neck. “Hey Vi, look what I found!” The woman’s face fell into her hand at the sight of Alexa with her arm around Aisling’s shoulders. “I’m sorry, I hope Al didn’t drag you in here—” In an instant, exasperation and embarrassment gave way to purest excitement. “Is that a shiny Vivillon?!” “Sure is!” Aisling declared with almost as much enthusiasm. “I’ve only ever seen one before, and he was an elegant variant. The shininess plays so much better against the blue here. She’s gorgeous!” Aisling was sorely tempted to say the same thing about the woman in front of her, who was somehow even more attractive than the one she’d come in with. But flirting with the Gym Leader was a bold move even for her, so she just said “thank you” as if it was a compliment about her own appearance… Oops. Viola’s hands were already on her camera. “Would you two be open to some photos?” “I’d be honored, Maîtresse.” “Vi, shouldn’t—” Alexa began to interject. “Right!” Viola let her camera fall back against her chest. “I’m sorry. You’re here for your first badge.” Aisling nodded with somewhat less enthusiasm. “We can talk about my hobby after the match.” “I’d love to.” “But where are my manners?” She offered her hand. “It’s great to finally meet you, Aisling. Xoana and my daughter have been talking about you non-stop. I’m excited to see what you can do!” WHAT?? Why had no one told her this? They probably had and she just wasn’t paying attention. She should have realized it the moment Viola came in. She was literally an older, hotter Serena. Same pale blonde hair and blue eyes, same cheekbones, same perfect hands, same broad, dark eyebrows. The resemblance was uncanny. And now that she had been pulled back to reality, they also looked a lot like the woman she’d come in with. “You gonna stay and watch, Al?” “Of course! Wouldn’t want to miss my big scoop!” She gave Aisling’s shoulder a squeeze before retreating to the edge of the arena. “You’ll have to forgive my twin her terrible journalism jokes. She works for Illumis Press.” Twin? No way. No fucking way! Well, fraternal twins were a thing so it was actually totally possible— For once she stopped her mind from going down that road. She couldn’t afford it right now. She felt hot all over and she couldn’t tell if it was the humidity, confusion, embarrassment, or other feelings anymore. Probably all of it at once. She only barely caught Viola mouthing some kind of reprimand to Alexa as her head stopped swimming. Viola smiled awkwardly to cover it and Aisling was saved from having to try and continue the conversation by Viola’s own readiness to move past it. “Let’s begin!” Viola paced back to her side of the battlefield and put her hands on her hips. This family was going to be the death of her. She could feel it. “Ready Aisling?” It was going to take days. “You know it!” Viola pulled a ball from one of her many pockets and released a Surskit onto the field. “Alright, Dáire, let’s go.” The Vivillon dipped in the air and turned away from the field to look at Cináed, perched on a branch. Her antennae bobbed nervously and then she shook her head at Aisling. “Come on, not now,” Aisling hissed. “You’ll do fine!” Dáire backed away and shook her head even more emphatically. “You’re embarrassing me!” Aisling whined as quietly as she could. Dáire beat her wings, blowing air in Aisling’s face, and let out a chirping click. “She’s not going to do it Aisling,” said Cináed. Aisling glared at her for another beat and the Vivillon didn’t budge. “Fine.” But they were going to have a talk later. “Everything alright over there?” Viola called. “Fine! Dáire’s just a bit sensitive about getting wet. I’ll use someone else for the Surskit!” Aisling considered the other options on her belt. Emer was willing, but couldn’t take a hit worth a damn and couldn’t really deal one either. Bree could probably handle it, but her accuracy wasn’t great yet and she had a type disadvantage. Gobán had the least experience, but the Dunsparce had proven hardy. Aisling let her out. “You ready to win the badge for us?” Gobán looked between Aisling and her opponent, and her wings vibrated. She did one of her little spins that meant she was not only ready, she was stoked. Good. “Gobán use Rollout!” The Dunsparce covered herself in a rocky shell and barreled forwards like a runaway tire. The Surskit was fast and light on her feet, so she waited until Gobán was almost upon her before dodging easily out of the way. By all accounts Rollout was a bit crude in the hands of a beginner and quite difficult to master, but Gobán was almost serenely graceful. She turned on a dime, drifting like a pro racer and kicking up an elegant wave of dirt that Viola captured on her high-speed camera. The Surskit pelted her with explosive bubbles, but it wasn’t even enough to slow her down and this time there was no escape. The torque sent the Surskit arcing through the air and spinning on her antena where she landed. Viola let go of her camera long enough to withdraw her and send out a Vivillon of her own. This one was shades of pink and not really Aisling’s aesthetic, but pretty nonetheless. The palette would suit Xoana well. “Keep up your momentum and wait for my signal!” Aisling commanded. Viola and her Vivillon went for Bug Buzz to weaken and disorient Gobán, but it didn’t matter. When Aisling called, the Dunsparce launched herself into the air with a flick of her tail, coiling again before impact for maximum speed and spin. The Vivillon plummeted like a stone while Gobán glided lightly down on her small, translucent wings, shedding the rocky remains of her attack onto her opponent as she spiraled. The Vivillon fluttered one wing weakly, unable or unwilling to rise. Viola withdrew her pokemon. “Good work as always, Gobán.” The Dunsparce hummed as she slithered back to Aisling’s side. “Fantastic! Just fantastic!” Viola cried, striding across the arena. “You had me worried with that last-minute switch, but it looks like you’ve been working with your whole team.” “O’course.” It didn’t matter that Aisling had made Gobán practice Rollout mostly to improve Bree’s skill with the move. Or that she had never intended to have her Dunsparce in this battle. She had proven herself and so had Gobán. Maybe it was time to consider a new role for her. “I must say that was quite impressive for a first badge match, even with that little snag at the beginning.” Aisling tried not to wince. Of course she noticed. How could she not? “Hopefully your Vivillon will be more up for a battle next time. Pokemon all have their own fears, quirks, and preferences but sometimes all they need is a little encouragement to expand their horizons. Being on a trainer’s team is very different than being wild, after all.” Aisling was beginning to think Dáire might need more than encouragement. “And it’s very important to listen to your pokemon the way you did. I don’t imagine you can understand them perfectly after so short a time, but you are communicating and that’s essential.” Aisling would be doing plenty of communicating with Dáire after this was over. “You and your Dunsparce are really quite in sync for how green you are.” It was a lucky shot, but Aisling was good at those. “Even more impressive considering you have five pokemon already. That’s a lot for a beginner to handle and normally I’d advise against it, but you’re clearly managing them well. Here’s the Bug Badge.” Aisling accepted the bright, beetle pin and took a moment to admire it against her palm. Her insides twisted, but not in a nice way—not the way they should be after being complimented by a gorgeous woman and winning her first badge. “Thank you.” “Now I know your Vivillon wasn’t up for getting doused, but would she be willing to do an impromptu photo shoot?” “She’d love to.” ... Xoana tapped her foot against the polished wood of the gallery floor as she looked up at Aisling’s confident grin. She probably should have known this photo would be up already after how excited Mme Pascal had been at dinner the other night. Xoana always liked coming in here, seeing what Viola was working on and what sort of pokemon had come through. Serena’s attempts at photography had long since been taken down as per her request, though a few were preserved among the family photos in the family’s front hall. A few of Xoana’s were there too. Serena had never really had the patience to follow her mother down that path. Xoana had pursued it for longer, surpassed where Serena had stopped, but she had never done anything for long enough to become truly skilled. Nor did she excel at anything the way Serena excelled at sports and academics and battling. Viola had taken decades to hone her craft, worked until she could capture motion, vitality, and spirit with a still image. It was almost like meeting the pokemon and people in the photographs, except that one had permission to study every detail. Dáire really did look stunning with that beam of sunlight making every scale of glitter shine like a dewdrop. Aisling was in matching colors with gold dust twinkling between her freckles. She looked like a model—or like how a model should look: all self-assurance and pleasure, staring right at the viewer in challenge with just a hint of warmth in her cheeks. “Mme Bellamy,” Andre announced over the speaker, “Gym Leader Viola is ready for your badge battle.” Xoana looked down at Froabble, who blew bubbles out of his nose at her. She took a deep breath and walked into the greenhouse. The air inside was always wonderfully full of life and smells and oxygen. The heat and humidity may have been a bit much for some, like Tessa who yawned loudly to adjust to the change in atmosphere, but Xoana and her Froakie welcomed it. Viola was waiting for them on the opposite end of the arena and Xoana’s friends waited on the park benches on either side. Tierney cheered and the others followed suit. Even Tracie clapped, from the safety of her oversized hoodie and legs pulled up inside her skirt while Tierney hollered next to her. Serena felt obliged to pile assurances atop Tierney’s from her perch beside a comfortably sprawled Aisling. “I’m excited to finally face you, Xoana,” said Viola warmly. “Are you ready?” “Yes, Maîtresse!” Xoana didn’t breathe until her first opponent was released—a Karrablast. He brandished his horn, thick carapace gleaming in the sun. “Go Tessa!” Nothing happened. The Teddiursa wasn’t paying attention. Viola didn’t wait for Xoana decide what to do about it. The Karrablast charged. And suddenly, barreling right for her with violent intent, it wasn’t cute anymore. This was crazy! What on earth was she doing here? What should she do?? Fortunately, the Karrablast’s aggression did hold Tessa’s attention and she planted herself between Xoana and the oncoming beetle, teeth bared in an uncharacteristic snarl. She grabbed him by the horn and threw him to the ground. The Karrablast rolled right back to his feet but by then Xoana had the presence of mind to issue an actual command. The two pokemon boxed back and forth with Fury Swipes and Fury Cutter, neither gaining the upper hand—or paw. Tessa was slugged repeatedly but she stayed standing and kept herself between Xoana and her opponent with a relentless and wild fervor. Tessa’s usually round face pulled into angry lines as she bellowed. Her once soft paws stretched into claws. Her cuddly frame knocked the Karrablast to the ground like a battering ram splintering a castle gate. Xoana yelled encouragement even as her gut twisted up watching it. Was this the same pokemon she had befriended? It couldn’t be. Tessa wouldn’t be here without her. She wouldn’t be battling at all. She wouldn’t be rearing and smashing the Karrablast into the dirt over and over until he squeaked in defeat. Just like that, she was back—limping back to Xoana with a cautious smile and soft eyes searching her face, making sure she was okay. Xoana kneeled and hugged her and told her how well she had done. Tessa snuffled her ear and patted her between the shoulders. But the battle wasn’t over. Froabble had already taken his place on the field and Viola sent out a Vivillon—a garden pattern decked in warm shades of green. Froabble leapt the same moment she called to him. The Vivillon’s Gust missed but made Froabble’s Bubble go wide. The Vivillon dipped back and forth, re-evaluating, and when Frobble leapt again, she anticipated his move and hit I’m dead on with Infestation. Froabble hit the ground hard, writhing as the tiny insects swarmed him. There was nothing she could do to help him. The Vivillon hovered over him, eyes glowing as she urged her minions on. “Come on, Xoana!” Aisling was sitting up now, both feet planted and leaning towards the edge of her seat. She met Xoana’s eyes boldly, poured something into her with that stare. Heat coursed through her. She could help Froabble by finishing the battle, by winning. She had a strategy. Last night Serena had noticed the nervousness in her face and shoulders and addressed it in that almost tactful way she sometimes had. She had endured Xoana’s babbling and frantic pacing with the patience and equanimity she kept stored for her friends and pokemon. She had been gentle where she could be, direct when she needed to be. And now Serena was there cheering for her. She always was. Xoana commanded Froabble with borrowed confidence and turned the battle with borrowed smarts. Froabble zigzagged with his signature speed, dodging any further attacks and getting close enough to repeatedly soak the Vivillon’s wings. She sunk under the added weight and when she was low enough, Froabble leapt above her and bore her to the ground. The infestation left him, signaling the Vivillon’s surrender. Xoana’s friends whooped, hollered, whistled, and clapped. The pokemon cheered too. Emer was bouncing high on her tail and squeaking at the top of her voice. Froabble jumped into her open arms. “Nice battle!” Aisling’s compliment somehow rang above the others. “I wasn’t expecting that awesome strat after you and Tessa just brute-forced the Karrablast.” That was because it wasn’t hers. Or maybe she was being a bit unfair to herself. Serena hadn’t actually told her what to do, just steered her thinking in the right direction. “Thanks!” “Well done, Xoana!” Viola congratulated warmly. “You’ve got a great connection with your pokemon already. I couldn’t be prouder.” Aisling smirked at her over Viola’s shoulder, smug vindication smeared across her visage. But the reason for it and the faint glow rising to Aisling’s cheeks forced a grin onto Xoana’s face. She’d yet to stop insisting that Xoana had real potential as a trainer and this battle hadn’t convinced her otherwise. It was tough to be sure about Tessa, but Froabble was a natural battler—that focus, assurance, and pure athleticism. If he hadn’t gone to her, he would have gone to some other trainer. He was going to be great and maybe she could help him get there. “That was fun,” Froabble declared as if he could read her thoughts. “Thank you, Xoana.” Xoana startled all of them with her giddy shriek but she didn’t care. She danced around with Froabble held high, yelling “he talked!” over and over. It was stupid, because all pokemon talked, but she finally understood him. And she couldn’t wait to have a conversation.

[nowitsdarkfic]

chapter fifteen (subterranean pop)

“You got a kiss for me, it hits me hard; you got a fist for me, you love so hard. My hands on my head, your words are like arrows; my hands on my head, there's permanent damage.” -”Head Injury”, Soundgarden

October 15, 1988. Interstate 5 between Portland, Oregon and Seattle, Washington.

“Hang on, Joe.”

There are no seat belts in Nancy’s car except for the one that goes over my waist there at the base of the seat; in other words, every time she hits the brakes on a patch of traffic or a curve, I have to hold onto the door panel to keep myself from flying forward right into the dashboard. I raise my knees up and slide down into the seat when she goes around a tight corner. It’s only an hour and a half trip up there but it’s going to be quite long from all of the fact I’m holding onto the car for dear life. But on the other hand, the soft rich red interior of her car is pristine and carries with it a faint smell of lilac, and is as silent as a cold, still winter morning following a blizzard.

I’m amazed by the vast stretch of lush greenery on either side of us on the way up to Seattle: upon leaving Portland, I catch glimpses of Mount Hood and then Mount St. Helens off in the distance, both of them surrounded by wispy cold gray clouds: I wish part of those clouds would float over this way and cool things off over here over the highway.

Sometime before reaching the capital city of Olympia, I roll down the window to feel the wind, and it’s still humid and warm outside even if we have moved closer to the ocean. Indian summer, alright.

I push my bangs off of my forehead. I almost inclined to take off my shirt, and in fact, I want to take it off and feel the wind on my chest and on my stomach, but seeing it’s me and Nancy here in the front seat, such a primitive sight can wait.

Mount Rainier rises out from behind a line of tall skinny trees, much to my shock.

“Holy shit,” I blurt out at the very size of the massive cone coated in thick blanket of pure white snow.

“Yeah, Rainier’s big, isn’t she?” Nancy chuckles. In fact, it stays within our view all the way into Olympia and winding our way into Tacoma. The sky is so blue over our heads, and I have never seen it such a way back in New York. I lean forward to check it out better, and then I peek over my shoulder to see Rainier still looming large behind us against the blue sky. I remember the huge eruption down by Mount St. Helens just a few years ago, and I don’t want the big jewel of a city before us to experience the same thing here.

Even from a distance, I can see the Space Needle shooting up from the heart of downtown. So small and nestled down into the earth for a city: it looks smaller than Portland in fact. To our left stands the blue glimmering waters making up the Puget Sound, and past that are two ridges covered in rich green pine trees, and then a row of more snow capped mountains. Nancy and I wind our way through the southern side of Seattle, or Sea-Tac as one sign on the side of the road declares to us. She takes the third exit off of the freeway and we roll down onto the side streets of downtown.

“This kinda reminds me of New York City,” I remark.

“Not as rough, big, and tough, though,” she adds to it as we pull up to the first stoplight.

“Not at all. It feels a lot... homier, I’d say?”

“Definitely homey here. Here and Portland both.”

She hangs a right and pulls up to a low red brick building with big tinted windows peering out to the street.

“Welcome to the heart of Seattle, Joey,” she says, pressing the button on her key chain and killing the hydrogen engine in front of us. I relax for a moment at the feel of us stopping and I breathe out a sigh of relief. My stomach turns a little bit but sitting there feeling the breeze on my face helps out.

“You okay?” she asks me.

“Yeah... yeah, yeah.” I reach down to unbuckle the seat belt, and climb out to the street to better feel the breeze on my head and my neck. Nancy follows suit on the other side of the car with her purse over her shoulder. I run my fingers through my hair before shutting the door behind me. I round the front of the car, and step onto the sidewalk, and she leads me into the front room which smells of fresh paper and clean carpet. There are three guys and a black girl congregated on the right side of the room: one guy seated in a spindly blue chair, and the other two and the girl around him. They all look like they’re reading something.

“Chris?” Nancy calls out to them. The queasy feeling in my stomach keeps the feeling of butterflies at bay as the guy seated glances up at us.

“This is Joey. He’s a music guy and he wanted to meet you guys.”

He stands to his feet and strides over to us. He’s tall, a little bit taller than me, but he’s got wavy black hair like me and that same default grave expression riddled upon his face. He almost looks like me, albeit a little softer than me and his hair doesn’t stick out every which way like mine does, and he’s got larger eyes. He has on a black sweater underneath a dark green flannel shirt, black jeans, and heavy black boots. He reaches out for my hand.

“Joey,” he says in a soft mild voice, “I’m Chris.” His grip is firm but gentle.

“And this is Matt--” The second guy comes up behind him: he’s tall, too, but with long smooth golden blond hair down to his shoulders. He looks strong and fit, much like one of the Grey brothers.

“Music guy, you said, Nan?” he asks her as he takes my hand: he’s firm but gentle himself.

“I’m a singer and a drummer,” I tell them as Matt tucks his hands into his faded denim pocket.

“Oh, that’s bitchin’, man,” Chris compliments me. “You in a band?”

“Used to be. I got fired.” And he winces at that.

“Oh, man,” Matt feels with me. “What for?”

“No idea. No idea at all. I did drink a little bit but I stopped but I guess that wasn’t enough. I dunno what was going through anyone’s minds when the manager called me.”

“We came here because I thought he reminded me of you, Chris,” Nancy fills in, and he nods his head at me.

“It’s funny. You--kinda do. From the hair and the demeanor in particular. Would you like, uh--” He gestures behind him. “--a drink of water or something?”

“Oh, yes please, I got a little carsick coming here.”

“Yep, that’s Nancy’s driving for ya,” he jokes and she rolls her eyes at him. I follow them over to the other two people when Matt turns back to me.

“I like your accent, by the way. You sound like you’re from back East.”

“Upstate New York.”

“Phew, long way from home!” the girl declares at me.

“That’s what I said to him!” Nancy says with a chuckle. “And Joey, this is Matt’s girlfriend and my best friend, Dominique. Dominique, this is Joey. He’s yet another singing drummer.”

She’s a slim lovely girl with a full head of tight black curls and that light black skin with a light sprinkling of freckles over the bridge of her nose. She tilts her head to the side at the sight of me.

“You look familiar,” she remarks.

“I do?”

“He looks like me,” Chris covers for me, and the other guy bursts out laughing.

“Well, aside from that. I feel like I’ve seen you somewhere, like in a music magazine before... I’m studying to be a journalist.”

“She just got back from New York herself,” Matt explains, putting his arm around her.

“Oh, yeah?” I press my hands to my hips.

“Shadowing under a mentor and at the New York Times, no less,” she continues. “I was immersed in a bunch of music culture so I discovered a lot of music--lot of heavy music in particular--and so... I don’t know if I saw you in a magazine as part of it or what, but yeah. You look... very familiar, like I’ve seen your face.”

“You might recognize my voice,” I point out to her. “But we’re in a recording studio right now, so you know--”

“Yeah, there’s another band in there and we’re just waiting for our time slot to open up,” Chris explains. “You know, add... finishing touches to the production and make sure everything’s squared away and whatnot.”

“Oh, right, right--and who’s this guy?” I nod to the fourth member of their party, another blond haired guy but with a large nose like me and beady little eyes.

“I’m their personal mailman,” he says.

“Oh, I see.” And we can’t help but laugh out loud as he sets down a bunch of things on the chair right before he strides out of there.

“Did Nancy tell you that this is our first album, Joey?” Chris asks me.

“I think she did,” I recall, “pretty exciting, ain’t it?”

“Totally,” Matt replies, his face lighting up. “We just got signed, too--we were signed to Sub Pop and then we switched labels for our new record.”

“Sub Pop,” I say aloud.

They all glance at one another with excited expressions on their faces. Dominique gestures me even closer to the chair and the stack of papers in the seat.

“Our little holy Bible of sorts,” she says, picking up the stack, “I see Bruce sent us the last couple of copies, at least that’s what Mark was telling us a bit ago.

“Yeah, here, Joe--check this out.” Nancy gestures to the stack right as Dominique takes out a thin black booklet from near the bottom. It’s a zine, much like After the Watershed.

The thick front cover of the zine reminded me of scratch art with its cavernous black background and pure white silhouettes in the middle. Up in the top left corner, written in thick capitalized letters was “SUB POP 5″. I open the booklet to find several newspaper clippings bookmarking the pages throughout.

“Incredible,” I mutter under my breath as I pick out one near the front. “Oh, he writes about Metallica right here, wow, badass!”

“I think,” she begins again, stooping over to better shuffle through it all, “I think anyways, he might have written about you and your old band, too, if I recall correctly. There was just a lot of shit to learn back East when I was there so it more or less feels like a blur to me.”

“That’s the cool thing about him,” Nancy adds, “about Bruce--Bruce Pavitt--and his team over at Subterranean Pop as they were originally called.”

“Yeah, he doesn’t just write about lesser knowns in places like Seattle and Portland or maybe even people like yourself,” Dominique continues, “but all the punkie type peeps across the nation. It’s because of him that Chris and Matt and their band mates Kim and Hiro are here in this studio right now and they’re putting out our first album on Halloween.”

I slip the clipping back into the booklet before taking out another one from near the back.

“What’s that one?” she asks me as I scan it over.

“From... The Rocket.”

“That’s the last entry he did for the newspaper The Rocket. Like he wrote a column called ‘Sub Pop U.S.A.’ for a while--”

“And then ended it because of the record label,” I finish for her.

“Right, right!” 

“And it’s been a rough road for us, though,” Chris pipes up again, “from all the money lost and whatnot...” I think back to when I was with Anthrax and how we were struggling for money ourselves. I also think about the fact I’m struggling myself.

“This is your first album,” I recall. “For real.”

“Yeah, we already made a couple of EPs, but yeah, this is definitely our first real big thing, though.”

“You guys nervous?”

“A little. I think Kim might be because he’s the one who named it kind of as a joke.”

“As a joke?” I chuckle at that.

“Apparently things are more than mediocre for us. They’re... ultramega OK.”

“Reminds me of a sentiment my old band used to say a couple of years ago, and with kind of the same vibe to it. ‘Nice fucking life.’”

“Nice fucking life!” Matt snaps his eyes shut and imitates an air guitar.

“Now, let’s get you a cup of water,” Chris recalls from before. “I assume you’re not hungry.”

“Nah, I just ate a bunch of pancakes before coming here,” I tell him, patting my stomach.

“I say that ‘cause there’s nothing to eat here. And--pancakes courtesy of Nancy, right?”

“Hell yeah.”

“She makes ‘em--well,” he mouths that last word and flashes me a wink and an okay sign.

“I try my best,” she remarks with another eye roll, but this time with a shy smile to accompany it. “He helps me out a lot when the going gets tough.”

“You’re a lucky girl, Nan,” I tell her with a nod. There’s something about Chris, something that reminds me of myself, and not because we have a similar look to us. I think about this for a minute as he ducks into the next room, and Matt and Nancy start talking about something. Dominique strides up to me with a bright look in her eyes and a smile on her face.

“Joey Belladonna, right?” she asks me.

“Yes.”

“Anthrax, right?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“See, I thought I remember you from somewhere.”

“Was it ‘nice fucking life’ that tipped you off?”

“Yes! Yes, that was it! I heard about you guys all the time when I was back in New York City. Like you guys were the next big metal band to come out of the East Coast next to Overkill and... Nuclear Assault, too. I think--I brought home a copy of you guys’ latest with me to share it with Kim and Matt later on. State of Euphoria.”

“That’s the one.”

Matt and Nancy fall silent right then.

“Hey, who’s this guy?” she notes. I turn around to find Lars striding up to the front door with a flustered look upon his face.

“What’s he doing here?” I wonder aloud, and I meet up with him there on the other side of the room.

“Hey,” I greet him.

“Hey--”

“What’s going on?”

“I have to tell you something,” he states, out of breath.

“Tell me.”

“Apparently... you remember that wormhole I made over in Black Orchid? The one in the top stairwell? The one I opened up to get you and Maya back to your place?”

“Yes.” I pause for a moment. “What about it?”

“I guess every time you make a wormhole, it doesn’t close up all the way.”

“What’re you--”

He chews on his bottom lip. And then I realize what he’s trying to tell me.

“Oh, my God.”

[setaripendragon]

The Light of a Pole Star - Part 3

Okay, this part was a lot of fun. The whole birthday scene came out of nowhere as I was writing, it was a complete aside that turned into an actually important plot point XD Also, Maes’s voice will always and forever sound like Opalsong’s reading of The Demon Alchemist series in my head.

“You know your boy is hopelessly in love with you, don’t you?”

“My- Are you talking about FullMetal?”

“Mmhm.”

“He’s fourteen.”

“Mm, I don’t think he is. Not really.”

“He really is.”

“Don’t be so literal, Roy, it doesn’t suit you.”

“I know what you mean, Madame, but it’s still- I can’t just ignore-”

“Ahh…! Is my baby boy falling in love, too?”

“What? No! That’s not-! He’s a child! I would never-!”

“Pfft. Of course you wouldn’t. I raised you better than that.”

“You did.”

“But he’s not going to be a child forever, Roy. He’s not even going to be a child for much longer.”

“…I know.”

“I’d let him work here in a couple of years. Maybe even one, given how world-weary he seems.”

“World-weary. That’s a good phrase for it. Speaking of, how’s Nina doing?”

“Oh, she’s as precocious as you were, Roy-Boy. She’s recovering well.”

“Good, I’m glad.”

“I’ll have someone drop some pictures off with Maes for you.”

“Oh, good god, alright. I’m sure FullMetal will appreciate some as well.”

“Speaking of, I hear his fifteenth birthday isn’t too far off.”

“Mother…!”

“Don’t take that tone with me, Roy, I’m helping you out here.”

“How, exactly?”

“Have you thought about what to get him for his birthday?”

“If you’re about to suggest something salacious, let me cut you off now and say; don’t.”

“Heheh. Only a little salacious. He’s fifteen, I think he can handle a Vittori.”

“A- One of the Vittori reproductions? Really? Why on earth-?”

“Call it a hunch.”

The Hughes residence is packed to bursting. Ed feels distinctly uncomfortable, being at the center of all this attention and effort, but it’s also kind of nice. He isn’t super keen on the idea of celebrating his birthday. He has eight of them rattling around inside his skull, plus two namedays, and a soulday. This one in particular gets lost in amongst the others too easily for him to care very much. Still, Teacher’s visiting, and so is Winry, and a woman who introduced herself as Roy’s foster-sister has brought Nina round, and Roy’s whole team have come, and Gracia has made a freaking fantastic triple chocolate cake.

Al is sitting on the floor a few feet away from the couch where Ed is sitting, passing Elysia crayons for her colouring, and Nina had two slices of cake and is now chattering Winry’s ear off, and Hughes is taking pictures of everyone and everything like a maniac, and Roy’s sister is flirting with Havoc, which seems to be mortifying both Havoc and Roy, which is hilarious. And Teacher is chatting with Gracia and Riza over mugs of tea from her place in Sig’s lap.

It’s good, Ed decides. It’s just good to be surrounded by friends and family and to take one day off from the pressure of righting his wrongs and fixing his mistakes. He’ll get back to the quest to restore Al’s body tomorrow, but today, he has permission to relax a little. It’s good.

“Is it time for presents yet?” Nina asks abruptly, abandoning Winry to throw herself half over the back of the couch, feet in the air and tail wagging, which puts her head somewhere in the vicinity of Ed’s shoulder. “Big brother! You need to open all your presents!”

“Good idea, Nina!” Hughes enthuses, and then suddenly everyone is bustling about retrieving their gifts for him and depositing them on the table. A lot of them, Ed is delighted to see, are book-shaped. Then Hughes holds Elysia up so that she can very solemnly hand Ed the card she’d made for him. It’s covered in glue and glitter, and of course the glitter goes everywhere, and Winry winces when it gets on Ed’s automail, but even she can’t deny that it’s utterly adorable.

“Mine next!” Nina insists, so Ed opens up the clumsily wrapped package she thrusts at him. It turns out to be a hand-knitted scarf, which Ed suspects is the result of Roy’s Mum’s attempts to keep Nina occupied and out of trouble. It’s a little wonky and uneven, but it’s a bright, eye-searing red, and it was made with love, so Ed wraps it around his neck at once and preens. Winry gets him a set of automail maintenance tools, like she always does in a passive-aggressive attempt to remind him to take care of his automail, and Granny sent on a book titled Beginner’s Guide to Combustion Engines, because she thinks she’s hilarious, and only Teacher and Al really get why it pisses him off so much.

Teacher got him a proper Xerxesian kattari, which she must have made herself, and Ed freaks out for a moment, because what idiot decides to take up blacksmithing – even alchemically enhanced blacksmithing – when they’re sick? Sig shares a commiserating look with him when he hands over all the extra bits and pieces Ed needs to maintain the blade. And in keeping with the theme – had they collaborated? – Al got him a book about the few Xerxesian alchemists that history remembers with a handwritten note inside that says ‘you can tell me all the things they got wrong – love, Al’.

Hughes got him a photo album half filled with pictures of Ed and Al and the people they know, with space left over for more, and Gracia added a pile of blank journals to the gift, which Ed definitely appreciates. The rest of Roy’s team all got him various books; a massive scientific treatise from Falman, a recent alchemist’s autobiography from Fuery, a fascinating obscure book about spiritual symbology in alchemy from Hawkeye, a book about the art of making fireworks from Breda. Havoc, on the other hand, had got him a swear-jar. Which sends Ed into hysterics.

Then Roy’s sister – Vanessa – hands over a small, prettily-wrapped package, and Ed splutters a little about how she didn’t have to, he doesn’t even know her, what the hell. She just laughs at him. “I insist. Auntie Chris insisted. At least as a thank you for making Roy’s work stories so much more interesting.”

“Oh, well, um, okay then, I guess?” Ed says, and sets to opening the packet. It turns out to be a couple of pretty hair-clips. Nothing so ornate as to be mockingly ‘girly’, but whoever made them paid just as much attention to form as function. If he wears them day-to-day, he’s going to end up worrying about damaging them. Not that he ever does anything creative with his hair anyway, so it’s a bit moot.

Roy looks mortified, though, so that’s definitely a plus. And, in the spirit of winding him up as much as possible, Ed decides ‘fuck it’ and tugs the band off the end of his braid, shaking his hair out and tugging the top half back into the clip he likes the best. It’s a style he’d worn a lot when he was Proteus, one that Huang had always gotten distracted by when they were researching together. “Thanks!” He says brightly to Vanessa, who looks so gleeful Ed figures she’s caught on to his plot to torment Roy and approves.

“Alright, I suppose it’s my turn, is it?” Roy asks, resigned.

He slides a large square present out from where it had been leaning against the side-cabinet thing that Gracia keeps knick-knacks and Elysia’s toys in, and hands it to Ed over the table before stepping back. There’s an odd touch of apprehension about him, nothing obvious, just a stiffness in his pleasant expression that suggests it’s taking effort to keep it in place.

Ed lays the present on his lap and studies the shape of it. “It’s a picture-frame.” He decides after a moment of feeling the edges.

“The purpose of presents is to unwrap them, FullMetal.” Roy drawls.

“The purpose of giving presents is to shut up and be nice, Colonel Bastard.” Ed retorts, but he does tear into the wrapping paper, and peel the picture out of it. And then he freezes, heart racing and head spinning, because that- that’s him. Or well, technically, it’s her, when he was a her. He presses a hand to his mouth to stop himself blurting out something stupid, and just… stares.

It’s not the original, he can tell right away, but it’s an excellent reproduction. Ed-when-he-was-Lucia is sitting naked in an unmade – and very rumpled – bed dressed in off-white linens underneath a wide window letting in a spill of brilliant morning light that picks out the amber tones of Lucia’s tanned skin and the golden tones of her light brown hair, which is twisted up into a messy, careless bun pinned in place by a paintbrush, many loose strands curling about her neck and shoulders. There’s ink and graphite stains on her fingers and thighs, and love-bites dappled across her neck, chest, and wrists. She’s sitting sort of cross-legged, one knee tucked uselessly under the light sheet and the other propped up so that she can lean a notebook on it and scribble down her ideas.

Several people are asking what it is, and Havoc and Hughes and Hawkeye all shuffle around the back of the couch to peer at it over Ed’s shoulders. Havoc lets out an impressed wolf-whistle, while Hawkeye says, in a carefully neutral tone of Stern Disapproval; “That’s a bit inappropriate, isn’t it, sir?”

Which, no. No, Ed’s not going to let that stand, because it’s not. The moment hadn’t even been sexual, except that they had just had lazy morning sex. But then Ed- Lucia had had an idea, and she’d flung herself out of Fiametta’s arms to find something to write it down with. Only then had she realised that she’d just abandoned her new lover without regard in favour of science, and she’d looked up expecting annoyance and exasperation, only to find Fiametta grinning and looking at her like she was the most perfect thing in the whole world. So Lucia had gone back to bed and settled in to write down her notes, and she’d gotten so absorbed she hadn’t even noticed Fiametta going for her sketchbook, and then her paints, until several hours later.

At which point she’d taken one look at the first attempt, and punched her in the arm for ‘making me look ridiculous, you complete sap’. The consequent versions had only gotten more ridiculous, because Fiametta had decided it was her purpose in life to wind Lucia up like that at every available opportunity.

It’s not inappropriate at all, except for the fact that Roy has no idea what he’s saying with this picture because he doesn’t know. Ed looks up at Teacher, the only one who gets it, and she raises an eyebrow at him, smug. ‘He doesn’t know he knows, but he does know.’ Ed thinks, and it’s… Good is something of an understatement.

Roy is fumbling for an explanation under Hawkeye’s stern stare, trying to play it off as a combination tasteless joke and attempt at winding Ed up, but Ed isn’t listening. He carefully leans the paining against the back of the couch and gets up. Roy’s faux-blasé defence trails off as Ed rounds the table, walks right into him, and hugs him tight. He’s in civilian dress, so it’s actually comfortable to hug him, and as Roy’s body-heat soaks through to him, Ed silently mourns the fact that he can’t just stay like this forever. “Thanks. I love it.” He says quietly.

“…You’re welcome.” Roy replies, just as quietly, carefully setting his hands on Ed’s back, not quite returning the hug, but something close to it.

“Huh.” Hughes says, in his scheming-voice. “I didn’t know you were a fan of Vittori, Edward.” He remarks lightly.

Teacher snorts.

“You shut up.” Ed grumbles at her, pointing in her direction without looking. He forces himself to let go of Roy before the hug becomes awkward, and turns to Hughes to try and explain his overly-emotional reaction to an indecent portrait of a long dead Aerugonian alchemist. “She did a good series on alchemy.” He states, crossing his arms defensively and feeling his face heat up.

“Hey, it’s okay, Boss. You’re at that age where-” Havoc begins, his tone gleefully mocking because he’s obviously a sadistic fuck.

“No. Nope.” Ed sticks his fingers in his ears. “LALALALALA!”

Ed is minding his own business, grabbing a quick lunch at a bakery a few streets away from the library, when out of fucking nowhere, Hughes slides into the seat opposite him with a cheerful “Hi, Ed!” and the sort of smile that makes Ed realise why most people find his grins a little unnerving.

“Uh, hi, Hughes.” He greets warily.

“Oh, please, Maes is fine.” Hughes – Maes – insists. “This is a social call.”

Ed gives him a dubious look. “Well it looks kind of like stalking.” He counters, and then takes a huge bite of his pasty. Maybe if he finishes quickly he can escape back into the library.

“That’s hurtful, Ed.” Maes protests, sounding entirely insincere. Ed makes an indistinct ‘mrmph’ noise around his mouthful. “I just wanted to know what your intentions are towards my best friend.” He announces, and although he’s definitely joking, tone jovial and eyes bright, there’s a thread of something a little more serious underneath.

Ed swallows hard, coughs a little, and then starts laughing. Because trust Maes Hughes to see that there’s more to Ed than a fifteen year old with a crush. “Well, I guess my intentions right now are to wait until he won’t have a panic attack if I jump him, and then jump him. Repeatedly. Preferably for the rest of our lives.” He answers, just as light-hearted as Maes, with just as much truth underneath.

Maes’s smile becomes a lot less sharp, softens into something that doesn’t make Ed want to flee to the safety of the library anymore. “How long a wait is that going to be?” He wonders, without any hint as to what he thinks the right answer is.

“Well, I had it from a reliable source when I was twelve that I’d be eligible for moderately respectable sex work in five years, so that’s only two more to go.” Ed replies lightly. Maes blinks at him for a moment, which isn’t the reaction Ed was expecting, but then he laughs. Cackles, really. “What’s funny?” He asks dubiously.

“Madame Christmas told you that, did she?” Maes asks pointedly.

Ed stares at him. “You…” He stops, and wonders if the synchronicity of his lives could get any more ridiculous. “Wait, let me guess. She’s got something to do with Roy, doesn’t she? Oh, that fucker.” He exclaims, eyes widening. “That’s how he knew to get me that painting! She fucking told him, didn’t she? Oh my fucking-!”

“Mm, yes. I think it was one of hers, originally. She likes to hang what she calls ‘dignified pornography’ on the walls of her upstairs business.” Maes confirms.

Ed whines and puts his head down on the table. “Next you’ll be telling me Roy grew up there or some shit.” He complains.

“As a matter of fact, he did.” Maes confirms, sounding intrigued, and Ed just groans, because, okay, he walked right into that one. “When she’s not working, she goes by Chris Mustang.” Maes adds, and at that, Ed sits up again.

“She’s Roy’s mum?”

“Biologically? His aunt. But she raised him ever since his parents died. So, yes, that’s who he means when he talks about his mother.” Maes explains. “But going back to that painting, Ed.” He goes on abruptly.

Ed huffs, going a little pink. “What about it?”

“I had a long chat with the Madame after your birthday. You said some very interesting things in between being very, very cryptic, and bringing up conversations you never actually had with Roy about old Aerugonian painters.” Maes states, resting his forearms on the table as he leans in and watches Ed with a pointedly patient expression.

Ed narrows his eyes. “We did too talk about renaissance painters.”

“Yes, but not Vittori.” Maes stresses. “And nice dodge, by the way.”

“Well, I was talking about Vittori, and he got the story right, so it’s not my fault if he didn’t realise, and only got it right because he’s that much like a perverted lesbian hedonist from the fifteenth century.” Ed retorts. “And I didn’t dodge shit. I just addressed the only point you actually made.”

Maes snorts, and leans back in his chair with a sigh. “You’re going to be very good for Roy, you know, when he manages to pull his head out of his ass. He needs someone like you in his life to keep him honest, keep him from twisting himself up into contortions with all the games he likes to play.”

Ed eyes him for a long moment, because, hell, but that was a good summary of at least one of his lives in its entirety. The Xingese royal court was a pit of vipers. “Yeah.” He agrees shortly, but apparently even that is enough to put that worrying gleam of curiosity into Maes’s eyes again. This time it’s totally a dodge, and Ed doesn’t even care, when he says; “So, what were those interesting things you wanted to interrogate me about?”

“Oh, you know…” Maes says, with entirely and obviously feigned nonchalance. “Treason.”

Ed snorts. “Yeah? Is this you delivering Roy’s official pitch?”

“No, Ed. This is me asking how the hell you even knew there was a pitch.” Maes sighs, no longer light-hearted at all. He’s watching Ed carefully, worried, and it makes Ed feel bad. He hadn’t meant to make Maes paranoid about discovery. But of course, if a teenage wildcard like him could figure it out, anyone who didn’t know that the knowledge came from lifetimes of experience with Roy and his masks and his stupid doublespeak bullshit and his penchant for self-sacrificial righteousness would be forgiven for assuming that one of the Generals, or the Fuhrer himself, might be able to see it, too.

Ed could lie, or dodge again, or something, but he doesn’t want to make Maes’s life harder than it has to be. He’s a good friend to Roy, and he’s been a good friend to Ed, too, so far. “I bet you looked into Valentino’s Bar, huh?” He asks.

Maes narrows his eyes, but plays along. “What do you take me for, Ed? Of course I did. Headquarters for one of the most successful Aerugonian resistance forces this side of the border in a hundred years before they blew the place up. I looked into this Malka person you mentioned too. And believe me, I’m dying to know what a border scuffle and a mullah from eighty years ago have to do with Roy, but I’d like to know about the treason thing first.”

“Valentino’s Bar.” Ed holds up his hand, and then ticks each point off on his fingers as he goes. “The Wolfsbane killings. Knyazhna Tatiana Nikiforova. The assassination of General Maultier. The Riviere Traders. The first Xingese Empress.” Ed pauses. “I think that’s… No, wait, you can probably count the Second Drachman Revolution, too, really, although you may have to dig pretty deep to figure that one out.”

“I recognise a few of those.” Maes acknowledges.

Ed nods emphatically, as though it must be obvious even though he knows Maes probably won’t understand. “That’s how I knew. I don’t think anyone else has made the connections, though, so you don’t need to panic.”

Maes stares at him for a long, long moment. “Challenge accepted.” He says finally.

Laughing, Ed shakes his head at him. “If anyone can figure it out, I’d put my money on you, Maes.” He offers, and Maes beams at him.

“Your faith in me is heartwarming, Ed. Almost as heartwarming as my beautiful daughter!” Maes enthuses, and Ed resigns himself to watching the man parade out a stream of photographs of Elysia. At least, since he’s not required to say more than ‘aww’ and ‘wow’ every now and then, he actually has a chance finish his pasty.

This goes on until Ed’s almost finished eating, and then Maes, with well practised insincerity, checks his watch and says; “Oops! Looks like my lunch break is over!” And sweeps all of his photos back into his pocket and stands up while Ed is still chewing on his last bite. “See you later, Ed.”

“Mrmph.” Ed says again, nodding.

Maes chuckles. “And, one last thing, Ed?” He says, pausing on his way past Ed’s chair. Ed looks up at him with his eyebrows raised, and Maes hands him a little folded up piece of paper. “Don’t wait too long. Roy will keep you at arms length forever if you let him, because he’s got a martyr complex the size of the Eastern Desert. We’re working on him, but he could do with a reminder from you that you’re older than you look.”

Then he’s gone, and Ed’s left staring at empty space in confusion. If he’s translating Maes-speak right, that was a ‘well, I think you should jump him now’. He looks down at the paper in his hand and unfolds it, only to find nothing but an address written there, and he’d bet his other arm and leg that it’s Roy’s. Maes is an interfering matchmaker, and Ed doesn’t know whether to be pissed off or grateful.

Ed decides Maes’ gift is too good to let it go to waste, so the next time he’s back in East, he breaks into Roy’s house while the man’s still at work and makes himself at home. When Ed had told Al his plan, Al had given him one of those inexplicably readable looks of his where he’s judging every single one of Ed’s life choices in every single one of his lives, and then he sighed and wished him luck, which is why Al is best little brother in the whole wide world.

When Roy gets back, Ed is happily ensconced in Roy’s living room with half the books from Roy’s personal library spread out around him, a fire blazing in the grate, a ridiculously snug blanket over his shoulders, and a mug of some weird fancy tea at his elbow. Roy, of course, comes in warily, prepared for an intruder, fingers poised to snap, and stops dead in the doorway, staring. “FullMetal?”

“Hey, Bastard.” Ed will call Roy ‘Roy’ to his face when Roy calls him ‘Edward’ again. “Shut the damn door, you’re letting all the heat out.”

Roy is so off-balance that he actually does as he’s told. Ed will have to remember that trick. Then he returns and goes right back to staring. “How did you get in?”

“Transmuted the lock, obviously.” Ed informs him. “I can show you how to alchemically booby-trap your locks later, if you like.”

Roy sighs in long-suffering exasperation. “How did you even know where I live?”

“How did you even know I’m a fan of Vittori?” Ed retorts.

“Touché.” Roy admits, and then just stands there, staring in bewilderment.

Ed glances up from his book at last, and gives the man a judging look. “Well don’t just stand there like an idiot, idiot. Go order some take-out and then come explain to me why the hell you have bullshit like Dee’s Hierarchy of Elements on your shelf.”

“FullMetal…”

“Food, Bastard.” Ed insists.

Sighing again like the melodramatic bastard he is, Roy goes to call for take-out. While he’s doing that, Ed clears a space for him on the couch, shifting books he’d left lying open beside him when he got caught up in something else. Roy comes back, eyes the newly open space, and then gingerly seats himself. “FullMetal.” He says again.

“I’d say ‘that’s my name, Bastard, don’t wear it out’ except, you know, it’s not.” Ed says pointedly.

Another sigh. “What are you doing?”

“Investigating your personal book collection.” Ed replies immediately. “It’s not half bad, honestly. Although, seriously, what’s with Dee’s shit? His theories were debunked decades ago.”

“Most of his theories were debunked.” Roy counters, and the next half hour is full of good-natured bickering and alchemical debate. Then the food arrives, and the next hour passes by the same way, except now with really good food, too. The conversation takes a slightly darker turn as they dive into discussing human transmutation, biological alchemy, soul alchemy, and the difference between them, but even then, Ed feels more hopeful about his quest than he has in a while now, revved up with new determination because Roy might not have as much knowledge as Ed on the subject, but he’s painfully insightful, and so good at coming up with the things Ed’s missed.

Shit, but Ed loves him.

And it must be written all over his face because Roy falters in what he’s saying, in whatever argument he was making, and his expression turns conflicted and uncertain. Ed hates it. “Don’t.” Ed says, before Roy can say anything. Roy closes his mouth, but doesn’t look any less pained.

“Edward…” He says, half chiding, half pleading.

“Roy.” Ed returns, wry. Roy sucks in a sharp breath. “It’s okay, you know.”

“You’re half my age.” Roy retorts, sounding agonised.

He’s not exactly wrong, even if he’s not exactly right, either. Ed sighs, and looks down at the blanket that’s now draped over both of them. He picks at the edge of it with his automail hand. “Yeah. Why d’you think I haven’t actually made a move on you yet?”

Roy huffs a weird little half-laugh at that. “This isn’t you making a move?” He asks dryly.

Ed snorts. “Believe me, bastard, when I make a move on you, you’ll fucking know about it.”

“Literally, I suppose.” Roy muses wickedly, and then winces. “Sorry, that was-”

“If you say inappropriate, I’m gonna hit you.” Ed warns him, holding up his flesh hand in a fist in warning. Roy very pointedly presses his lips together and doesn’t say a word. “Cause it isn’t inappropriate, it’s fucking true. But I’m not stupid, you know. I do get that you’d feel kind of skeevy if we did anything yet, so- so I’m waiting. That doesn’t mean I’m going to pretend that there’s even the slightest fucking chance I’d pick anyone else in the world but you.”

Roy’s eyes go wide, and then he closes them. He leans in, and for a moment Ed thinks he’s going to kiss him, but instead he just leans their foreheads together. “You can’t know that for sure.” He whispers, sounding like it hurts to say it.

“I can.” Ed insists. “I do.”

“I know you’ve seen more of the world than most people your age, and I know that- that there’s more to you than just a fifteen year old hellion, but you shouldn’t tie yourself to me before you’ve had a chance to- to explore, and-”

“Idiot.” Ed huffs.

“I’m serious, Edward-”

“I know you are, Roy, that’s why you’re an idiot.” Roy pulls back to frown at him, and Ed wonders if Teacher is right, if he should tell him the whole truth. They’ve already been talking about souls half the evening, after all. But Ed… Ed isn’t quite ready to put himself that far out there when Roy is still battling his fucking conscience. It would feel… manipulative, or some shit. “Can I tell you a story?” He asks, instead.

“Can I stop you?” Roy answers wearily, but he’s smiling fondly, so Ed figures that’s not a no.

“Nope.” Ed squirms around until he’s comfortably leaning on Roy, and Roy hesitates only a moment before curling his arm around Ed’s shoulders. “Once upon a time, in a far away land, there was a boy.” Ed begins, measuring out the words.

“A fairytale?” Roy wonders, sounding startled.

“Yeah, sort of.” Ed hedges, because no, it’s not, it’s his life – their lives – but he’s not going to tell Roy that just yet. “Anyway, so this boy, he had real shit luck. Like, the shittiest. His parents died in a landslide when he was four, and not even a year later, he got nabbed by fucking slavers and carted off into the desert to be sold to some rich asshole who thought he was hot shit and that it somehow made him look good to have a tiny ‘exotic’ little boy serving drinks at his stupid parties, and not like a complete shit-stain.”

“That does sound unfortunate.” Roy comments, sounding confused.

“Yeah, but this kid, right, this kid was resilient, and clever. He made this plan. Cause, see, in Xerxes-”

“Oh, is that where this is set?”

“Yeah, shut up. In Xerxes, academia was everything. If you were smart, if you could make a valuable contribution to the Great Library, you could earn your way up to the top, even if you started out a slave. Even if you weren’t Xerxesian by birth. So that’s what he decided to do.” Ed pauses, thinking back and trying to sort an entire lifetime into something he could tell Roy and have it make sense. “One day, when he was out running errands or some shit, this slave just happened to be in the right place at the right time to see this building – one of the big manors for the Savants – collapse.”

“Savants?” Roy questions.

“It’s the best translation of the title. Like I said, the heirarchy in Xerxes was about academia, not the military, or inheritance, or anything like that. They were people who- who fucking revolutionised knowledge in whatever field of study. Being recognised as a Savant was, I don’t fucking know, like being a General, I guess, here. You’re powerful, and people kinda have to listen to you, and you get lots of perks and rewards and shit. There were also teachers and shit, Professors or whatever, which was basically one step sideways, not quite parallel, but… the State Alchemists, sort of?”

“I see.” Roy says, sounding a little bewildered. “So… so this manor collapsed?” He prompts.

“Yeah, and this boy- Well, he was a teenager, by today’s standards-”

“Today’s standards?”

“In Xerxes you were considered a child until you were twenty-five, on average.” Ed explains impatiently. “When you completed the standard education and could choose a speciality. Anyway-” Ed presses when it looks like Roy’s about to ask more questions. “So, this boy recognised an alchemical reaction when he saw one, and managed to pinpoint the source in amongst the rubble.”

“Who did he find?” Roy asks, which at least isn’t a distracting question.

“This kid. Nine years old, half crushed by rubble. His entire right arm was so much mush. He’d been being an idiot, trying to get his super-clever Savant grandmother to pay attention to him, and his circle had backfired on him and brought the whole house down. And this slave kid pushed this massive piece of masonry out of the way with one shoulder and grabbed the other kid with the other hand and just hauled him out of the mess he’d turned his entire life into. Carried him to the healers. Went right back and dug out the kid’s cousin. His grandmother was already dead, but if it hadn’t been for that slave, his cousin would have died before anyone got around to getting him out.”

“Edward…” Roy says slowly.

“I’m not finished, bastard, let me finish.” Ed retorts. Roy nods silently, so Ed forges on. “So this kid, this dumbass kid who destroyed his entire life all by himself because he couldn’t appreciate what he had when his dad was gone and his mum was dead, knew that he had to pay back this slave for saving him and his cousin. So he went and found him and taught him everything he knew, everything he got to learn just because he was born to an educated family. They studied together for years, ended up fucking revolutionising alchemy. Heh. The slave was elevated to Savant because he figured out that water is actually combustible if you pull it apart.”

“Is it really?” Roy asks, smirking. “I had no idea.”

Ed cackles. “Sure you didn’t.”

“I assume the other boy became a Savant, too?” Roy questions, giving Ed a soft look under faintly furrowed brows. Like he’s figured out Ed’s talking about them but still isn’t sure what the point is. Jokes on him, because that is the point.

“Yeah. He figured out some really cool architectural tricks. There’s so much cool shit you can do with rocks and sand if you really pay attention to the molecular structure. Like fixing fault-lines in otherwise apparently solid stone.” Ed explains with a grimace. Roy tugs him a little closer.

“I take it the boy’s cousin did recover, too?” Roy asks gently.

“Yeah.” Ed confirms. He knows Roy thinks he’s talking about Al, even though he’s not. Lyco hadn’t been much like Al, really. He’d been a daydreamer, kind but absent-minded, and he didn’t understand people at all, not the way Al did. Ed had loved him just as much, though. “Xerxes was pretty good with healing alchemy, so he got better eventually. And eventually, these two dumbasses got around to admitting that somewhere between the heroics and the research and the awards, they’d fallen in love. It didn’t really change that much, though, they still bickered over theories and played with alchemy together and spent most of their time side by side in the library. It was just that when they went home, they went to the same place, and sometimes they had sex, which was pretty fun.”

Roy makes a sound that’s trying to be a laugh, but is a little too strangled to manage. “I think I see your point, Edward-”

“Still not finished, bastard.” Ed interrupts. “So they got married, and eventually they got asked to tutor the royal children. Which, in case you can’t figure it out, was one of the very highest honours a person could be awarded in Xerxes. They probably couldn’t really have said no without being, like, shunned or something, but it didn’t really matter because… because they really enjoyed it. Not just teaching, which was frustrating as all hell but entirely worth it, but teaching those kids. They were hellraisers, don’t get me wrong, but they were so good, too. Getting to help them discover themselves? Discover the amazing things they could accomplish? Those two stupid boys loved that a whole hell of a lot. Queen Aesara was one of Xerxes most beloved rulers, and they were so proud of her.” Ed pauses, and collects himself. “And they lived happily ever after for the rest of their days or whatever shit. There, now I’m done.”

They sit in silence for a while. Ed doesn’t mind, although he’s a bit restless. “Is that the sort of thing you want from your future, then?” Roy asks eventually. “Teaching?”

“Eh.” Ed shrugs and tries to explain. “Maybe? But there’s lots of things I could do once I’ve fixed my fuck up and Al’s okay. Lots of fulfilling paths to take or whatever. Could teach. Could do research. Could become a doctor. Could open a restaurant. Could go into fucking journalism. Lots of ways to do good in the world. My point is… it’ll be better with you there. I want that. And I think you want that, too. To do whatever we end up doing together.”

He hears Roy swallow, and then let out a breath that shakes. “Yes, Edward. I want that, too.” He agrees. His arm tightens momentarily around Ed’s shoulders, and his head tips to lean his cheek against the top of Ed’s head, and then he turns so he can press an achingly gentle kiss to Ed’s hair. Ed turns into Roy and hides his smile against the man’s shoulder.

[allaboutthebooz]

Wish I Was The One Pt. Five

Summary: Things come between the brothers become tense, while Y/N is gone.

Warnings: Angst.

A/N: Alright y’all. I’m not too happy with this part, but I’m still working out how to write certain aspects of stories. So if it seems extra out of character, I promise that I have a reason for it. Please stick it out and I promise, the next few parts will be better!

Part One Part Two Part Three Part Four

The Bunker isn’t the same without Y/N around. Dean and Sam can feel it. It’s only been a day since she headed out and they both already want her back. It’s quiet. The usual interaction between the brothers has come to a necessity.

Sam is mad at Dean. He knows it. He can tell in the way they interact. The clipped responses to any questions or suggestions Dean tries to offer him. The avoidance of eye contact. The tension that rises in Sam’s shoulders as soon as he hears Dean coming into the same room. Sam knows it’s childish, but she doesn’t care. The way he sees it, is that it is Dean’s fault that Y/N decided to take a case by herself. He still doesn’t know what was said between them while he was off on his run, but he knows it hurt them both. He can still see her tear stained face and her broken heart on her shoulder. He can still hear the defeat in his brother’s voice when he confronts him about it.

Dean’s sitting in his entertainment room, when he hears Sam laugh through the wall. He mutes the television. He knows that Sam is on the phone with her. She hasn’t called Dean. Not even a text to let him know that she made it. It’s been a day and a half since they talked. Is he mad that Y/N can’t even stand the idea to let him know that she’s okay? A little. Is he upset that she has no problem calling his brother? Hell yeah. But there is nothing he can do about it. All he can do is wait, until she decides to come home and talk to him.

“So, everything’s going okay? Did you find the grave?” He hears Sam ask her, followed by silence.

“Well have you found anything that the spirit could be attached to...A Map? Who attaches themselves to a map?” Sam laughs. “Well, I’m glad you were able to take care of it. I guess you didn’t need me there after all.” Dean grips the remote tighter, in his hand. “Are you still okay with me coming out there to meet up with you? Uh, yeah. Of course, I’ll head out in the morning and should get to you in a few hours. Just text me the name of motel that you’re staying at.”

‘He’s going to see her? She can’t even pick up the phone to call me, but she’s letting him come out there?’ Dean asks himself, growing angrier by the second.

“Alright. Well I’ll call you when I leave. We can figure everything out when I get there.” He hears Sam finishing up the conversation with Y/N and decides he’s heard enough. He shuts the tv off and tosses the remote across the room. He stands up and heads to the War Room. Pacing between the tables before leaning against one. A few minutes later, he hears Sam shuffle into the room.

“Hey. So, uh, Y/N’s got everything under control.” Sam pauses when he sees the rigid stance he finds Dean in. “Everything okay?” He asks cautiously.

“Yeah everything is just peachy.” Dean responds sarcastically. “Did you know that these walls are pretty thin? That anything above a whisper can be heard?” He stands up straight and squares his shoulders, jaw clenched.

“And? It’s a pretty old building, Dean. A lot of places have thin walls.” Sam shifts form foot to foot. Watching his brother.

“So then, you know I could hear your entire conversation with Y/N? Who hasn’t talked to me since before she left, by the way.” Dean says, moving around the table.

“That’s my problem Dean. I don’t know what you two talked about, but I do know that it was enough to make her leave.” Sam tells him, standing tall.

“Do you want to know what we talked about? We talked about how she could hear everything that you and I were talking about the night before she left. We talked about, how we loved each other, but I screwed everything up. How she was through with me. How she was ready to move on. How she just wants to be happy.” Dean moves slowly towards Sam, seeing the look of realization cross his face.

“She heard everything.” Sam asks.

“Oh yeah. She heard everything. So, she knows everything.” Dean comes to a stop a few feet away from Sam. Watching him sort through everything. “But she must feel something for you, if she’s willing to let you join her. Especially, when she told me that she needed a week or so by herself. So, help me to understand, how there isn’t anything going on between you two.”

Sam sighs, “There isn’t anything going on, Dean. I told you. We’re just friends. Yeah, I care about her as more than a friend and maybe she feels the same way, but it’s none of your business what we do. Like you said, you’re the one who screwed up. She had to deal with deal with that pain for along time. Now that she’s starting to feel happy again, you’re just going to keep that from her? Even if it’s your own brother, who could make her happy? What are you going to do? Keep us from seeing each other? You’re not her father, Dean.” Sam shrugs. “At best, you were her lover.”

Sam can see the anger rising in his older brother’s eyes.

“At least, I’m not her lap dog.”

“I’m not doing this with you, Dean. I don’t know what’s gotten in to you, but you have no right to try and be possessive of Y/N. You gave that up, when you pushed her away.” Sam says, trying to move around Dean and put an end to the conversation, but Dean wasn’t having it.

Finally, letting the anger, that he has been feeling for the past week, take over. He grabs Sam by the shirt and spins him around, catching him off balance and throwing a punch to his face. Sam stumbles back. Hand to his face, that is covered in pain and then shock.

“Are you serious? You want to try and fight over her? That’s not going to make her choose you. I’m not doing this.” Sam watches his brother with caution. Trying to keep his anger under control. “I’m heading on in the morning. Maybe giving you some space is what you need. You need to realize, that you’re the one who’s wrong. Not me. I don’t know what’s wrong with you, but this isn’t you, Dean.”

Sam forgets his mission for the kitchen and exchanges it for his room. Opening his phone and shooting off a text, before slamming his door. Leaving Dean seething where he stood. He turns and swipes everything off the table closest to him. “Son of a bitch!” He roars. Marching to the garage and hopping in Baby. Hoping a drive will cool him off.

~~

“He just hit you? Are you kidding me?” Y/N asks Sam over the phone.

“Yeah. I don’t know what’s going on with him.”

“I’m sorry, Sam. This is my fault. I should have talked to him. Maybe he wouldn’t be taking it out on you, if I had.”

“No, Y/N/N. This isn’t you fault. Dean just needs to think about everything.” He tells her, hoping to reassure her. He hears her sigh. “Maybe I should head out sooner. Give him some space.”

“That’s up to you, Sam. I’m gonna be here either way. I know we said that we would figure out what we would do when you got here, but maybe if you leave tonight, we could grab some dinner and then hit the road. We’re a little more than half a day from New Orleans. I’ve always wanted to go.” He can hear a smile in her voice, causing one to crawl across his face.

“A road trip? Just for the heck of it?” He asks her.

“Yeah, why not? When’s the last time that you just went on a trip for the hell of it?” He stays quiet. “That’s what I thought. I mean, we can head that way and if we happen to catch wind of anything going bump in the night on the way, we take care of it. That way it’s not a complete and total vacation.”

Sam sighs, “What the hell. Let’s do it. I’ll pack up and leave in an hour or so. Do you need any more clothes?”

“Maybe a few more jeans and a sweater. Just bum a car, that way we won’t have to worry about two cars and we can take my truck.” She tells him, excitement in her voice.

“I’ll see what I can do.” His own excitement growing, causing his stomach to flip.

“Okay. Just text me when you leave, and I’ll see you when you get here.”

“Alright, Y/N/N. I will.”

“Okay. Bye Sammy.”

“Bye.” He waits for her end to go dead, before hanging up. Internally, tossing a fist in the air.

He starts moving around his room and begins to pack. The conversation he just had with Y/N playing in his head. A smile on his face. Then he can hear, Dean in the back of his head. Telling him how she had heard everything that they talked about. Did that mean that she felt the same? Should he get his hopes up? He tells himself not to, but the seed has been planted. If she really wanted time by herself, she wouldn’t have suggested, that he join her. Right?

Sam manages to pack up and head out in thirty minutes. Making the short walk into town, he finds a car. Shooting off a text to Y/N, that he was on his way.

~~

Two hours later, Sam rolls into the parking lot of the two-story motel that Y/N is staying in. He called her when he was five minutes away, so that she would be ready for him. He steps out of the stolen car and stretches.

“Hey stranger.” He hears her say, causing him to follow the voice and look up. He finds her leaning both hands on the rail, smiling down at him. He smiles back.

“Hey.” He notices a few bruises and cuts scattered across her arms and a couple on her face. “I thought you said, it was an easy ghost?”

She looks down at herself. “It was, but you know you’re doing your job right, if the bastard decides you toss you around a bit.” Looking back at him with a smirk. He laughs and shakes his head. “Do you want to get settled first and then go eat? Or eat and come back?” She asks him, crossing her arms against the rail.

“I could eat. Probably need to dump this somewhere.” He tells her, patting the roof of the car.

“True. Let me grab my jacket and we can go. You can move your stuff to the truck, it’s open.” Y/N says before turning to go inside the room. He unloads the car, tosses his bags into the bed of her truck as she comes down the stairs. He turns to her and reaches down to hug her.

“There’s a diner in town. We can dump the car in an alley and go eat.” She tells him as she pulls back to look at him.

“Sounds good. I’ll follow you.” Walking to their respective vehicles and pulling out of the lot.

@adoptdontshoppets @katiecurls75 @curly-haired-disaster @clarinette07 @ain-t-bovvered @spnfamily-thewinchesters @snffbeebee @peridottea91 @foreverfoodlover69

[ontheline-ff]

1 | wyd?

Whoever invented buzzers was a fucking asshole.

For the last two minutes, a non-stop staticy buzz rang through the loft that housed Venus Carter. It reverberated off of the brick walls into one long buzzing sound that wasn’t helping anything right now. It sounds too much like an alarm in the dark, blackout curtain assisted bedroom, and it makes her head spin a little as the little lines of sunshine that fight to fill more than just slices on the floor put everything into perspective for just a second.

It’s morning now. Last night, from the jibberish staring back at her as notifications on her phone as she pulled it from underneath her pillow, she was definitely more drunk than she usually allowed herself to be. The inquiries from her followers lets her know that she was definitely on one last night. She’d love to open her phone and try to figure out what was going on, but she can’t.

Not yet, anyway.

The buzzing is the only reason she’s up, really.

“Ughhhh…. Fuck, okay, I’m coming.” Venus whined pitifully as she pulled her body up from her bed, and jabbed her fingertips into her eye sockets.

She pressed her fingers there for only a second, but it’s enough to see dots of color when she pulled back. Small feet with black and blue glittery toes stuffed into Nike slides and her hands reflexively snatched down a purple and black ombre robe as she walked the long walk to the front door, all while cursing the fact that this loft had floor to ceiling windows that wouldn’t dare allow her to miss out on the sunlight.

Usually, she wouldn’t complain, but right now, it just needed to be dark. The darker, the better, actually. She felt like shit. She felt horrible, and promised herself that she would never fucking drink liquor again.

It was eleven AM in Brooklyn, and Venus had a hangover. Like, a bad ass hangover, one that not even a Postmates delivery of Gatorade and Chinese that she was still drunk when she yelled for Alexa to arrange could help with. She still shuffled across the floor and sighed softly as she finally opened the door, and winced at the sight of the sunlight that was determined to break in through the front door.

The guy standing in front of the door pulled his finger away from the buzzer and stared at her.

“Here’s your hangover cure.” She was still wincing as the bag was thrust into her hands without much else being said.

She silently thanks him for his patience. There was a look of understanding that passed, and a nod from the driver as he walked back to the sidewalk. He looked like he knew her, or understood her struggle. Most likely both, from the way it lingered. She just shrugged it off and served him her back.

Venus cursed softly as she closed the door behind her, shutting out the bright sunlight, and going back into the inescapable brightness of her living room. She slumped down on her couch and groaned before opening her bag, and pulling out a carton of chicken fried rice and a bag of egg rolls.

The grease probably wasn’t going to help her general overall feel, really. She would try to convince herself that it would, though. After a few minutes in cherished silence, she was killing her carton of rice with the occasional chew of the still hot egg roll without a care in the world. Everything was going good until she realized she hadn’t touched her phone since she got up.

She still had to put two and two together, still needed to recount how the fuck she ended up so drunk to where she was suffering from a massive hangover. Her phone buzzed across the living room table as she stared at it, and caught it before it fell.

215-667-8890: Wyd?

Her nostrils flared in annoyance as she glimpsed at the message on the lock screen, which came from an unsaved number with a 215 area code. Who did she know from Philly?

Her tongue rolled around her lips as she pulled herself up to sit up straight, and pressed her lips together as she unlocked the phone. It wasn't unlikely for someone to text her out of the blue; she’d had the same number since she was thirteen years old. But, she couldn’t recall giving anyone from Philly her number, or giving her number out at all, really.

She tried to think - was it work related? An internet friend, maybe? Someone from Plenty Of Fish, even though she’d deleted that app months ago? Did Juju give her number out again to some nigga she didn’t want to talk to? Curiosity was getting the best of her as no person in particular seemed to jump out at her. She decided to text back anyway.

Just woke up. Fighting a Hangover. Who is this?

The phone hiccuped as the message was sent, and the bubble was blue, which made her eyebrows raise. If she didn’t get an answer within the next couple of texts, she was definitely going to accidentally facetime the number to see who answered.

Venus wet her lips as she leaned over to the side of the couch and grabbed the forgotten, room temperature bottle of Glacier Cherry Gatorade and drank from it as if she had been lost in the desert. She nearly choked when the phone pinged back with a response.

215-667-8890: Nobody told you to do a waterfall of Don Julio like you're a big dog, V.

Oh, so this person knew her name? That made her head tilt a little as she switched away from the Messages app, and went straight to Snapchat. She immediately opened up the snapchat thread between her and her cousin, her best friend, and sent several eye emojis before she started to snap.

Vdotcarter: Juanita, who in the fuck did you give my number to?

“Fuck did I do last night?” She questioned the empty room as she looked around and tried to get any reminder of how last night went.

It was just as clean as she recalled working hard to pull off, with no trash around the room, no mess littering the table, or even her clothes or shoes lingering in the doorway, where she’d usually strip as soon as she got in the house. Juanita’s message of “GO HARD, OR TAKE YOUR ASS HOME!” from like three weekends ago was still up there on her dry erase board, and there hadn’t been any new pictures pinned up to the corkboard square of memories that stuck out to her either, so what the fuck did she do last night?

Her honey brown eyes scanned the room again as she wedged her tongue in her cheek, almost annoyed by her lack of memories. It had been that way after drinking since that night in Vegas, but, it never took this long to flood back into her head. If Juanita knew what had gone down, she definitely wasn’t fuckin’ helping, not telling her what was up.

She scanned the room again, past title momementos, old UFC promotions, newspaper clippings, and still, there was nothing that jumped out to her. She might have gotten drunk, but as she looked down at her fingers and hands, she knew she didn’t beat anyone’s ass, so, maybe that was a good thing.

Everything seemed the same, really. It didn’t smell any different, and there was nothing that really stuck out to her, until she took a look over at the ottoman she had arranged on the other side of the living room set up. There was a white, long sleeved thermal, with a little rip in the neck area. She tilted her head at it, and stood up, walking over to it. She picked it up and inhaled it, but knew it didn’t belong to her, yet smelled too familiar for her to admit as to who it did.

“Motherfucker…” She looked around, now looking for things that didn’t belong to her.

Masculine things. Little things. Like the sparring gloves hanging next to hers, bigger, red. Not her color. An extra water bottle, with an obnoxious, star spangled meshing around it. There was also a diamond link chain that hung almost ominously over one of the taller cat statues that rested over her TV that she knew didn’t belong to her.

“Fuck.” She sucked her teeth, not wanting it to be him, but knowing it was.

Now, it was just a matter of confirmation.

Her phone was still idle in her hand, and she tapped at the screen and glanced back down at her snapchat feed, and flicked through the stories. Instead of trying to tap on anything that stuck out to her, Venus opted back to her own story, and watched through slightly drawn eyes as she relived her entire night.

In the span of a few minutes, she saw herself going through the motions of locking up at the gym, or at least, the departure from her building to her car in the parking lot. There wasn’t much there, but she remembered the sparring session. She remembered kicking ass, and talking shit the entire time. She didn’t need that to be recorded to know that.

Then, she was driving, debating if she wanted to go out, ‘cause she hadn’t in a while, and then, she was home, pregaming with shots of tequila and doing lip-sync karaoke to songs from the early ‘00s. She was cursing out Juanita for not wanting to come out with her, and the rest of the snaps went like a quick, but familiar blur.

The phone buzzes again, and she doesn’t hesitate to switch screens to get back to her inbox.

215-667-8890: why didn’t you save my number?

Her response is immediate.

Because I don’t know who this is??

If she was being honest with herself, it was literally only two people. Maybe it was Tony, who came with Adonis when he made the move from Philly to Brooklyn. But, Adonis had been claimed, fucked her cousin on the regular before they broke up, and spent the majority of the time acting like he didn’t miss his shot, shooting for the wrong cousin. Tony was just there for the ride, interested in the girl who could fight, even determined enough to ensure that she still could after almost losing everything a year back.

Thinking emojis follow, and seconds later, a video pops up in response. She doesn’t hesitate to play it. Her eyebrows raised as she watched herself do exactly what she had been accused of earlier.

A large triangular bottle of Don Julio that she knew went for about $150 was being poured into her mouth with reckless abandon, and her eyes narrowed as she watched herself drink until she needed to pull away. After she threw her head back from the tequila stream, the phone shook with hoots and hollering, and the camera rotated to a smiling face, complete with bottom and top golds that made her curse softly.

She knew Adonis when she saw him, and she knew that this? Was no good.

“Oh Venus, you dumb bitch.” She cursed softly as she covered her mouth with her hands, tenting her hands as she groaned into them, but she couldn’t stifle the sound.

She went back to her snapstory with determination to figure something out. There was an appearance by Tony, who she sang loudly to, and took some shots with, and then later, Donnie was there, pipin’ it up for a second before slinging his arm around her, and pulling her into him. When the bottle of Don Julio was brought over by the bottle girl, V knew it went downhill after that shit.

Venus remembered some of this; she remembered getting dressed and leaving in an uber, heading to a club. She remembered saying, “fuck it,” and getting ready to go have some fun. After Donnie made that ignorant ass purchase though, shit got blurry after that. There was a lot of shots taken, captions that were incoherent, and a bunch of black screen requests, until they just stopped. She shook her head.

The phone hiccuped again. More video came from the unsaved number, this time, explicit at that. There was her hair wrapped around a fist, and her mouth was way too filled to do anything else than take what was being fed to her. She felt a familiar tug on her scalp and hissed. Shit.

Shit.

Donnie loved doing that shit, trying to get a rise out of her. He always had, since they first met, and he asked if it was real, ‘cause it was long, and stupid for her to have long hair, when all bitches knew how to do in a fight was go right for it. They flirted like that. For years.

But, all of that skirting around? It was a waste of time. She knew eventually they would stop bullshitting, but she wanted to fucking remember all of it. She sat her phone down and threw her head back against the couch cushions as she cursed again, in partial disbelief as to what she saw.

215-667-8890: We’re not going to fuck around with details just yet. It’ll come back to you.

215-667-8890: It might not jump right out to you, but, it will. Save my number, Venus.

She had no idea how she was going to explain how she slept with her cousin’s ex-boyfriend, but she knew she needed to figure something out. She flattened her body against the couch and cursed softly as the need for chinese and gatorade turned into a long desire to curl up, and sleep it off.

She saved the number with her tongue wedged in her cheek, and her eyes darting back across the room, trying to figure out all of the hows and whys, and if there was more video that didn’t make Snapchat...

Adonis: Since you’re acting like you don’t remember things, I promised you breakfast in the morning, and it’s not too late for french toast. Meet me at LB’s in twenty. Let’s talk about this.

[picassho-18]

Blood Petals (Finale)

Finale: Killer Queen

Summary: (Mob Boss!Bucky Barnes x Assassin!Fem!Reader) When the famous death hungry assassin, the Blood Mistress, and the charismatic mob boss of Brooklyn city, James Barnes meet, heads will most definitely roll.

Warnings: language, murder, blood, this is the WORST part

Word Count: 2267

A/N: This is it guys. I have finished. Be ready. This is a doozy.

Also, wanted to give a shout out to @hollandroos She’s an amazing writer and introduced me to Mobster!AU’s so thank you, and hope you give this series a read because I only got it done because of you.

Also, please please please leave feedback, thoughts on this finale, thoughts on the series. ANYTHING! I’d love to hear from you guys!!!

“Move one fucking inch and I will blow you two up.” Pierce yelled at you, lifting up a grenade launcher, as you shifted beyond the container the two of you were hiding behind. Your breath hitched at his words, every possible scenario, any possible escape running through your mind but drawing up blank.

Rumlow strolled up behind Pierce, grinning like a mad man, “Well well well, princess, I couldn’t have you running off now could I? Not when we just started!”

He started to pop a couple rounds off from his gun, causing them to rattle off on the metal protecting the two of you.

Your breathing seemed to speed up at the mere presence of your torturer. You couldn’t go back. Yo just couldn’t endure it any longer.

You were far enough from them, that you were able to whisper under your breath to Bucky, “If we can’t get out of this, promise me you’ll kill me before he captures me again.”

“HEY! No talking!” Rumlow yelled, stomping down the corridor to get the two of you, along with the rest of the men behind him following. He shot off a couple more rounds, the bullets hitting the metal just above your heads

Not paying attention, you stare Bucky down, pleading from your eyes, “Promise me Bucky!”

Dismay shown from his, until they hardened. He pulled your face close to his with his hands caressing your cheeks.

With a new wave of determination coursing through his eyes, he whispered, “Y/N, my friend, my one and only Sunshine, my love, I’m getting you out of here.” Pulling you flush against him, he placed his lips to yours sparking a heated kiss, gunshots barely registering in your brain as Bucky poured every ounce of love he felt for you into his kiss.

All to soon, he pulled away, giving you one final look, smiling once his eyes reached your own.

He kissed your forehead swiftly, “Goodbye Sunshine.”

Before you could register his words, he stood up, cocking his gun and started to run forward out of cover and firing his gun towards the Hydra men.

Whipping your head around, you screamed out his name and he continued to run down the hallway shooting down man after man.

As if in slow motion you saw as Pierce drew a handgun from his belt, aimed it at Bucky’s chest, and fired three times.

You screamed out, “Nooo!” your whole body deflating as you watched Bucky stagger back, and fall onto the ground.

Fire clouded you vision, and with a blood curdling heartbroken fight cry, you leapt over the containers.

You ran to the closest man, dodging everyone's flying bullets before kicking at his legs causing him to crumble on the ground.

With a kick elbow and hand you snapped his neck, quickly pulling his body up, shielding you from the gunfire aimed at you. His body quickly became filled with bullets, each one causing it to splatter around you as you efficiently worked your way closer to the next group of men further down the hallway.

With one hand you kept his body up, and with the other, grabbed his gun, and started firing wildly at the group screaming at the top of your lungs.

After the clip finished, you pushed the body off of you, throwing it at another man. While he was distracted you grabbed the knife out of his belt and stabbed him in the gut, over and over again.

Blood started to splattered onto you, drenching you in it, but you continued until you stabbed him through his eye, ending his life quickly.

You looked up, whipping your wet hair back and started to run at the next man, getting him in a choke hold while the rest of his men shot him trying to get to you, then dropping his body and hiding behind a cabinet.

Grabbing a wire off of a cabinet, you quickly grabbed another man, wrapping it around his neck, pulling so tight it started to cut into his skin. Putting your knee into his back, you pulled even tighter, his gurgling only encouraging you. With another heave, you yanked it back, the wire cutting clear through his bone, ligaments, and muscle, his head slicing right off, hitting the floor before his body could. Blood spurted from the neck when the head flew off, drenching you even more, blood dripping from you hair as simple as it was water. Wiping your face, you smeared the blood, causing you face to look like you had red war paint on.

You marched down the hallway, a crazed glint in your eyes, and that's when you noticed. There was fear in Pierce’s eyes. He was stepping back hesitantly and in the moment you knew you were saving him for last.

Swiping up a pistol, without a single thought left in your head, you shot the 3 more men, square in the head. Their bodies dropped in a rhythm, and that rhythm was closing in on Rumlow and Pierce.

“Kill the bitch!” Pierce yelled at Rumlow in frustration. With Rumlow starting to pick up his fire, you slid behind another container.

“Come out a face me!” Rumlow screamed, bullets bouncing all around your head. “Let's end this now!”

As soon as you heard the click of his gun signifying it was out of ammo. You stood up, and turned around, pointing your gun straight at his face.

His face fell as soon as he saw you, and with a smile on your bloody face, you pulled the trigger.

With a loud bang you saw the bullet hole form on his forehead, a small trickle of Blood form before his body dropped to the floor.

Not even giving his lifeless body a second though, you stepped over him, and continued your deadly march for the last man standing, Alexander Pierce.

He was hiding behind a crate, and when he saw Rumlow go down he screeched slightly jumping up in fear.

You dropped your guns, the clanking off them hitting the floor rattling around the dim hallway. “Don’t worry Pierce. I’m gonna kill you with my bare hands.”

He started to scramble back in fear when you approached closer. In panic he left his gun behind, and reached frantically for his handgun from his waist belt.

Once you saw the handgun again, the one that killed your Bucky, you hardened, gritting your teeth.

“You took everything from me!” you screamed, standing over him, “My parents, my family, my childhood, my home, and even now you’ve managed to take away the one last good person in my life, my love. But that’s not the worst, you’ve taken something far more valuable. You’ve taken my one last piece of humanity out of my soul.”

His gun started to shake in his hands, wobbling unsteadily, not even able to lift it and point it at you. “I’m sorry.”

“You’re sorry?! No, you’re not you motherfucking bastard!” you kicked his gun out of his hand, getting on top of him.

You began to punch him over and over again in the face.

“YOU,” a swift right hook to his temple

“TOOK,” a left hand connecting with his mouth, causing some teeth and blood to fly out

“EVERYTHING,” another punch went flying, resulting in split knuckles

“FROM,” a slammed fist into his left eye, instantly swelling it shut, blood trickling from it

“ME!” as you lifted both fists above your head, and brought them both down in unison, smashing them into his face, caving in his nose, spewing blood everywhere.

He coughed and sputtered, while you were gasping for breath. You looked at his face, barely recognizable, so splattered with blood, bruising, and swelling. Pierce gurgled a little, his mouth filling up with blood which had nowhere to go.

A wave of realization hit you. You didn’t want to live in a world with him breathing any longer. So quickly, you straddled him again, squeezing your blood soaked fingers around his throat. His body tensed at the lack of oxygen and started to fight weakly against you. Just gripping it tighter, you started to squeeze with all your might, his one eye open in complete fear.

With a jolt, you heard and felt a loud pop, and his whole body went limp, his head falling to the side. Slowly, you pulled your hands off, and scrambled up, not yet realizing what you just accomplished.

Not letting yourself dwell on it, you shuffled over to Bucky, and saw that he was still slowly breathing. Collapsing to the floor, you let out sobs, as you cradle his head into your lap.

“Bucky…” you let out shaky, gasping for breath between your cries.

His eyes were foggy, barely open, but he moved his hand to cover yours. “I’m so,” he coughed a little, “I’m so sorry.”

“Oh baby, you idiot.” you cry as you put your forehead to his. “I just got you back.”

He smiled weakly, love shining in his eyes, “I love you so much.”

You body shook, not able to control your emotions anymore, helplessly looking at the blood draining from his body from the three bullet holes. You stroked his cheek, rubbing some dry blood off.

“I love you too. You were always the best part of my life.” He smiled, almost at peace when he heard those words, but pain still evident of his face.

As tears mingled with the blood splattered on your face, you told him a story. “Have I ever told you what got me through my time here?” He shook his head no, so you continued, “Well, every time I thought about giving up, or telling them something about the mob, I would think of you.” You smiled slightly, giving his forehead a small kiss, trying to take his mind off the pain.

“I would think about the times we’d go to the little clearing in the woods behind our neighborhood. How we’d lay in the grass for hours, and you’d make me little bouquets of wildflowers. I’d always tie them in my hair, wear them around proudly, because my best friend made those for me.

Maybe that’s how I started to put roses in my hair.”

He chuckled lightly, coughing a little bit, blood trickling out the side of your mouth. Fear gripped you, it was soon, this last moment was going end.

Bucky could sense it, so with some of his last bit of energy he asked you, “Will you promise me something?”

“Anything.” you whisper.

“Lead my men. They’ll need someone after I’m gone, and you’re a natural leader.” Smiling slightly, “Plus, they really like you.”

All you could do was smile, tears streaming down your face.

“Promise me. Please.”

“Of course, my love.

He shuddered, his face paleing considerable. “Thank you.”

He peered at your blood stained face, “You know, you’ve lost the Blood Mistress title.”

“I have?” you asked confused.

“Yes, you’re my Killer Queen now.”

His voice was growing weaker, shallower, losing its natural deep huskiness.

Swallowing a sob at the realization he was almost gone, you kissed him slowly, giving him one last moment on Earth.

“I love you so goddamn much.” you whispered.

“I love you too…” At the end, his head fell to the side, his eyes closing for the final time, his breath leaving his body one last time, and his body deflated, losing its life.

It was like all the horrible things that have happened to you throughout your harsh life came rushing back all at once. You couldn’t control yourself, and you let out a scream as you laid your head on Bucky, sobs racking your body. You lost all control and could barely think.

“No….” you whimpered. “Please God, no, not him.”

*****

It was a rainy day, and all you could think about would be the jokes he would have made about how cheesy it was. An outdoor funeral with black umbrellas everywhere, rain pouring down as the Brooklyn mob was all located in one spot, mourning their King. He would have laughed, said it would have been something out of a movie. A classic funeral scene.

This though was the only thing keeping you going today. The memories of his classic smile, swirling around in your head. You clenched the handle of your umbrella tightly, trying not to let the tears pooling in your eyes from falling.

Looking around, you studied the faces of the mob. Every single one was almost to tears. Lang was holding his family, and was wiping some away. Steve was sobbing quietly off to the side. Sam was tearing his hardest not to let any fall, but was failing miserably.

It made you realize that the tears only showed your love for Bucky. So instead of wiping your eyes every couple of seconds, you let them fall.

Walking up to the open casket, you carried the bouquet of roses, white and red alike, and placed them on top. You kissed your fingers, and placed them on his cold cheek whispering, “I will make you proud, my love.”

Turning to the group there, you nodded allowing everyone their moments alone with him.

Families broke down, children sobbing into their parents arms. Burly men could barely hold themselves together. And you stood there, the mourning Queen.

After everyone had said their peace, you stood up, gaining their attention. You’re eyes bright red, tears on full display for all to see.

With a cracking voice, in all of your glory, “We have work to do.”

Blood Petals Tag List:

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[asflowersfade]

Ficlet: 5 Times Mac Didn’t Save Himself

A what-if fic. What if Mac didn’t escape Murdoc in 204? 5 possible scenarios.

Warning: these ficlets deal with things like death and dubious consent!

“He means the trail's gone cold,” Cage tells Bozer. “If Mac doesn't save himself, no one will.”

And Jack adds, not entirely convinced, “He'll be alright.”

But Mac doesn’t, save himself, that is. He isn’t alright. And hours turn into days turn into weeks…

I.

On the 28th day following Mac’s kidnapping, Jack discovers a box sitting on his threshold when he comes home. It’s a plain white box with no address on it, no post stamps, anything. It’s just sitting there, on the floor in front of his door. It’s a wonder one of his neighbors didn’t steal it.

Jack knows he should call it in. It might be a bomb, it might be anything. But he’s drained after yet another day spent looking for Mac with no result. Matty’s been making noises about putting the search for him on the back burner; with no new leads, they’re just chasing their tail, and their cases have started piling up. Jack refuses to accept that. He’s going to quit the job before he quits looking for his partner.

And so, in the light of that desolation and exhaustion, frustration and anger, he just crouches down in front of the box and gently lifts the paper lid - and with a quiet gasp of horror, he jerks away, sitting down hard on the dirty floor. His pulse is thundering as he stares down, wide-eyed, at the content of the box.

Because there, inside it, there’s a clear plastic box and inside that... a human heart, perfectly preserved.

Breathing harshly and full of dread, Jack reaches out with a trembling hand to pick up the square piece of white paper stuck to the top of the plastic box. It’s a quality paper, thick and cottony to the touch, and on it…

He never stopped believing you would come for him. How does it feel to break his heart?

The heart is Mac’s. It’s the only piece of him they ever get to bury.

II.

Six weeks after Mac’s kidnapped, Jack receives an irritated phone call from Detective Greer.

“Are you running some op I don’t know about in my backyard? Because I just saw your boy downtown, hanging out with Rattling Annie…”

Turns out that Rattling Annie is homeless, has been ever since anyone can remember, a middle-aged woman nicknamed after the rattling old shopping cart she drags everywhere with her, drawing frowns and disapproving looks because of the ruckus her little vehicle makes.

But not today, Jack notices after he races downtown, to where Greer told him to go. No, Annie’s cart isn’t rattling anymore, the cause of the loud noise fixed with a simple, yet ingenious trick, with a couple of shoestrings and a rusty paper clip and nothing more. Jack would recognize that hack anywhere.

“Please, Miss Annie, please!” Jack pleads with the woman, rushing after her as she tries to escape, shuffling down a litter-strewn alley. “I don’t mean you any harm, I swear. I’m just looking for a friend.” He steps in her way and pulls out a photograph of himself and Mac, snapped by Bozer during Mac’s birthday party last year.

He shows her the picture and Annie throws a quick look at it before ducking her head and hunching her shoulders even more, letting her dirty gray hair cover her face. “Don’t know him. Don’t wanna know him.” She gives her cart a push, bumping into Jack’s shins.

But Jack can’t, he won’t let it go. “Miss Annie, please. He’s…” His throat closes up and he has to swallow hard several times to find his voice again. “His name’s Mac and he’s more than a friend. He’s like a brother to me. I love the kid and I’ve been looking for him for weeks now. Please!”

She pauses, peeking at him through her straggly locks. “If you love him that much, how did you lose him, huh? Huh?” she demands, suspicious.

Jack runs his hand over his face. His shoulders slump and he lets his hand with the photograph drop. “I-we had a fight and I got angry and I left. And while I was gone, while I wasn’t looking, a very bad man broke into his house and took him. He took Mac, Miss Annie.” He looks at her pleadingly.

And there must be something about him, maybe all those pent-up emotions and fears and worries found their way into his face, because her expression softens, just a little, and she reaches out her twisted hand for the photograph. Jack gives it to her.

She studies it contemplatively for a long while, the happiness in their faces, the way Jack’s hugging Mac close with one arm thrown around his shoulders. Then she asks, “What was your name again?”

“Jack, Miss Annie. Jack Dalton.”

There’s a pause, then Annie looks up at him and smiles. “He keeps talking in his sleep, that boy, he keeps saying Jack will come for him…”

And Jack heart jumps.

Annie takes him home. Home being an old, abandoned warehouse, home to many of the homeless people around. They live there in their private little nests, surrounded by all their worldly possession. And in one of these nests, Annie’s, Jack finds him. Mac.

She came across him in the sewers, Annie did. He was filthy and wet and totally out of it, with a bad, bleeding wound on his head. She thought he probably tried climbing out through one of the manholes but a car must’ve clipped him and he fell back down again. Nobody came looking for him, Annie waited with him, so she took him home.

That’s what Annie told him on their way here. That she took Mac in and she watched over him but even when he came to, he didn’t make much sense. He remembered little, his memories were all jumbled up, and his head hurt badly. Annie didn’t know what to do, so she took care of him. Because that’s what they do down here, they take care of each other. And in his moments of clarity, he fixed her cart and One-Eyed Bobby’s cane and Ruby Rue’s doll in return.

“He’s a good boy…” Annie whispers.

“Yeah, he is, Miss Annie,” Jack agrees, all choked up, as he crouches down by the nest of blankets and pushes them aside to reveal…

Mac. Filthy and with a straggly stubble - the kid will never grow a proper beard, Jack knows - thin and pale and with an ugly, barely healed wound, running from his temple into his blood-matted hair above his right ear. He’s curled up on his side, deep asleep, the dark purple smudges below his eyes making him look exhausted.

Blinking hard to push back tears, Jack reaches out with a shaking hand and runs his fingers gently over Mac’s head, stroking his hair. He found him. Jack really found him.

Mac’s eyelashes flutter and he opens his eyes, looking up at Jack - and Jack holds his breath. For a very long time, the kid’s gaze remains unfocused, but then it clears and a slow smile spreads across his face. “Jack,” he croaks out, leaning into his touch. “I knew you would come.”

And this time, Jack can’t fight back his tears. “Always,” he whispers.

III.

They never figure out what happened to him, they never hear of him again.

IV.

They find Mac completely by accident, nine months after he was kidnapped. It’s Riley’s face recognition software that she set up to run 24-7, looking for either Murdoc or Mac, checking every feed on the internet. And it finds Mac walking down the street in Portland, just like that. In Portland!

They fly over there, Jack and Matty - Mac’s her agent and she feels responsible for him - overjoyed yet confused, while Riley tracks Mac to a beautiful residential home, all red brick and thick trees. And when they ring the doorbell, he comes and opens the door with a polite smile and a curious, “Yes?”

The thing is, he doesn’t recognize them. At all.

“My name’s Gus Webber, I’m a high school teacher from Wisconsin,” Mac tells them impatiently for the third time while they sit around the tastefully decorated living room, staring at him in disbelief. “My husband’s name is Dennis. I was hurt in a car accident six months ago and I lost my memory. But I sure as hell know I’m not that-that MacGyver guy you’re talking about!”

They look at each other, and then Matty says carefully, “I’m Matilda Webber.” When Mac’s frown, she nods firmly. “Yes, Webber, the real Webber here. And you’re Angus MacGyver. You’re not a high school teacher and you’re not from Wisconsin. You work for the Phoenix Foundation and you’re from California. You’re a spy and nine months ago, an international assassin whom we only know as Murdoc kidnapped you from your home.”

Something flickers through Mac’s face and his left eye twitches, but then he laughs out loud. “You realize how ridiculous that sounds? Me, a spy? I teach physics! Or, I taught physics before the accident,” he corrects himself. There’s a pause, then he continues, “I was hurt in a car accident six months ago and I lost my memory. Since then, I’ve been staying at home, recovering.”

Jack sits forward and pulls out his cellphone. “No, that’s not true. You are Angus MacGyver and this man kidnapped you!” He shows him the picture of Murdoc on his phone.

Another flicker of something in Mac’s face, another twitch, this time harder. Mac lifts his hand to his forehead for a second. “No, you are wrong. You’re mistaken. That’s a lie. My name’s Gus Webber, I’m a highschool teacher from Wisconsin. My husband’s name is Dennis… That,” he points at Jack’s cell phone, “that’s Dennis. That’s my husband.”

He gets up, his breathing now a little quick, and walks over to the window, to the little table there. He picks up a framed photo from the table and brings it back to show it to them, a little desperately, a little pleadingly now. “See? That’s me, me and my husband.”

They take a look at the picture and they both feel a chill run up their spines. It’s a photograph of Mac and Murdoc, sitting together on a wooden swing in the warm afternoon light. Mac’s relaxed and smiling, leaning back against Murdoc who’s hugging him from behind, holding him tight. It would be a heartwarming picture if not for the predatory look in Murdoc’s eyes that not even his smile can cover up.

“Mac…” Jack says softly, looking up. “Mac, I swear to you, on my father’s grave, that this” --he waves the framed photo-- “is not real. You are Angus MacGyver, a spy, and this guy is a dangerous sociopath who’s been after you for months. He tried to kill you more than once. I don’t know what his game is but, whatever you think you know about your life, it’s a lie.”

Mac’s now standing there, by the couch in front of them, visibly trembling. His face’s pale, almost gray, and he’s shaking his head adamantly. Then his left eye twitches again and he rubs at it hard with the heel of his palm. “No. No, you have it wrong. My name’s Gus Webber, I’m a highschool teacher from Wisconsin. My husband’s name is Dennis. I was hurt in a car accident six months ago and I lost my memory…”

The same words, the same phrase, over and over again. Both Jack and Matty notice, exchanging a look, but Mac doesn’t seem to. Brainwashing at its best.

“I’m sorry but it’s not true, Mac,” Matty says kindly.

Then Mac’s trembling abruptly stops and he stares at them, looking completely lost. “Jack?” he whispers brokenly before his knees give out and he sinks to the floor, unconscious.

“How do we fix him, Matty?” Jack asks softly, his voice desperate, as he stares at Mac, lying in the hospital bed, still unconscious. He has yet to wake up.

She sighs. “I saw his toxicology report. Murdoc pumped him so full of drugs that it’s a wonder he was able to function properly. The doctors hope that once they flush the drugs out of his system, he’ll start to recover. And we have people who specialize in this, in brainwashing. He’s going to get the best help.”

Jack leans against the foot of the bed, gripping the metal frame hard. “But how do you come back from something like that? I went through the house with our techs. It’s not just a front. It’s a real home, with a kitchen and a swing on the back porch…” He pauses. “Bedroom.”

They fall silent for a moment, the implications of that hitting them both hard.

“We got Mac away from him and that’s the most important thing,” Matty says in the end. “We left our people at the house in case Murdoc returns but...” She shakes her head. “I don’t believe he will. We found surveillance system inside and around the house. He must’ve monitored Mac 24-7 whenever he left him alone so he must know by now that we found him…”

A moment later, her suspicion is confirmed. The door opens and a confused looking nurse walks in, carrying a long slim box. “This was left at the nurse’s station for… him.” She points at Mac.

Matty frowns. “I thought we asked you to keep his presence here secret,” she tells her sternly.

The nurse swallows. “We did. This wing has restricted access. I have no idea how anyone could know, how anyone could get in and leave this behind…”

Jack grabs the box out of her hands and opens it while the nurse quickly leaves the room. Inside the box, there’s a single long-stemmed red rose and a beautiful handwritten card, saying, “Get well soon. Love, Dennis.”

With a growl, Jack crumples the card, the box and the rose inside. “I’ll kill him, Matty,” he grits out. “I swear to you, I’ll kill the psycho if it’s the last thing I do.”

And they both look at Mac who’s lying there unconscious, unmoving, unaware.

V.

At 5.37 am, thirty-two days after Mac’s kidnapping, Jack’s cell phone buzzes, waking him up. An incoming message from Bozer.

COME TO MY HOUSE. NOW!!!

Realizing that Bozer knows very well what an upheaval such a message would cause, Jack doesn’t hesitate a second. He throws some clothes on and drives. Still, when he arrives at Mac and Bozer’s house, Matty and Riley are already there.

Barging in, Jack calls out, “Bozer? What’s going on?”

“In Mac’s bedroom!” comes the answer.

Jack follows Bozer’s voice, rushing in - and then he stops short and stares, just like everybody else in the room. Because right there, in the bed, tucked in snuggly, lies Mac. He’s fast asleep and his chest is rising and falling in a steady rhythm. He’s rather pale, his wrists are abraded from restraints and there’re visible needle marks on both of his arms but otherwise, he seems okay.

And on the wall above the bed, there’s a message written in bold red letters: DONE PLAYING FOR NOW.

“Sonuvabitch,” Jack whispers.

[rwbyremnants]

NOTES: Sorry for letting two weeks pass, didn't mean to lose track of time. Hope you like the update! Things are gonna start moving a little quicker plotwise now; not NECESSARILY because of what happens in this chapter, but it will affect things. More to come!

=Chapter 13

“Hey, Snow Bunnies! Check out where I am!”

The camera panned over to the backdrop of Times Square. Lights flashed and blinded the viewer, turning everything into a smear of colours as it slid back to Weiss’s poorly-lit face, grinning from ear to ear. Her other hand nipped a strand of white-blonde hair behind her ear as the first raised the phone on its selfie stick a little higher.

“Big things are gonna happen in the Big Apple! I’d say more, but who wants all their surprises spoiled? Certainly not me! See you soon!”

As she waved vigorously before tapping the button to stop recording, Yang approached from behind the camera and chuckled. “You sound like the biggest cheeseball.”

“Quiet, you. The fans like to see that I’m happy and my energy is up. Don’t ask me why, but it’s kind of… reassuring? Just watch Demi Lovato’s stuff, it’s all either silly or inspirational. They expect me to be positive and they have every right to expect it by now. I can’t let them down.” Then she put the phone and the selfie stick away. “Now let’s go before someone watching my Insta realises where I am and tracks me down!”

Even as she said that and they turned toward the Yamaha, there came a squeal of several young female voices from deep in the crowd. “Uhhh, too late – get on! Now!”

Yang didn’t wait, but picked her up and stuck her on the seat. They were roaring away from the curb just as a knot of superfans broke through the rest of the throng, starstruck looks in their eyes. What a lucky near-miss.

“Are you sure you’re going to be alright?” she asked Weiss as she dropped her off at the bus a short while later.

“Stop worrying,” her principal sighed with a roll of her eyes, handing her helmet back. “I’m fine. You are not our entire security team. Go see your sister.”

“Okay.” Glancing around to make sure no one was watching, she darted in for a quick peck on her lips, making sure it didn’t turn into anything longer just in case they were caught. “See ya soon.”

“I’ll be counting the seconds.” The smirk made sure that Yang didn’t know whether or not she was being sarcastic.

The streets of Manhattan were terribly busy at all times, and almost impossible to navigate. However, equipped with her bike and the GPS on her phone, Yang did manage to find her way without losing herself in the shuffle. Also, without having to untangle the clusterfuck that was the subway map. Now that they had taken care of Weiss’s little social media check-in, they could get on with the rest of their night.

A quaint little place in the upper east side was where Ruby and Penny had selected for their meeting – at Penny's insistence, her being the native. Chinatown would be the more desirable place for dining, since it would remind her of her dad’s cooking, but it was a lot further away from both where the tour bus was parked, and Penny's home in Astoria. A reasonable compromise.

Finally, she managed to find a decent place to park, pretty close to the small bubble tea establishment for which Penny gave her the address. Yang had never tried bubble tea herself, but when Penny and Ruby insisted, she couldn't exactly say no. She had chosen the very same outfit that Ruby and Weiss helped her purchase the first time they met up, a small token that she hoped Ruby would recognise.

As she stood on her toes to try and find the two, she spotted the same mess of ginger hair in a corner booth, sat beside what she thought was Ruby. So right away she headed over, sitting herself down on the seat opposite.

"YANG!" Ruby gasped, then grinned as she threw her arms forward – and was stopped by the table between them. "Hllgg! Whoops, heh…" Scratching the back of her head sheepishly, she sank back down next to Penny. "But I'm so glad to see you, sis!"

"Right back at you, nerds! Happy Easter!" Yang grinned, settling herself down opposite Ruby. The other two had already gotten their drinks, but Yang wasn't too concerned. She just wanted to catch up with her sister. "I still can't believe you're here! How the heck did you pay for your ticket?"

That caused Ruby to blush slightly, and she glanced at her companion out of the corner of her eye – who was currently sipping tapioca pearls up into her straw. "Well… Penny paid my way. One of her dads is a lawyer, so…"

"Hmm?!" Accidentally swallowing one of the bubbles unexpectedly, Penny had to cough and beat her chest to try and force it down right. Once sure it had settled, she quickly looked around to Yang. "S-sorry. Yes! Dad paid for one half of her flight, and I've offered to pay the rest out of my savings. I get more allowance than I usually need, so I was more than happy to!"

"Cool. Well, as long as you both don't mind! I'm so glad you’re in town." Quickly bringing out her phone to check the time, Yang scratched the top of her head nervously. It would be four hours till she could see Weiss again. No matter how confident she was that Weiss would be alright on her own, she was still worried.

"Wow, are we that boring already?" Ruby attempted to joke when she noticed Yang checking the time. But when Yang didn't answer immediately, her smile slipped a notch. "Wait, are we?!"

"Huh? Oh! Nononono! I was just seeing if Weiss messaged. I'm just… it’s my job, y'know?"

As Yang rested her cell phone on the table, Penny stood up, looking over at both of them. "I'll fetch Yang a drink while you two catch up on things, shall I? You did say you had lots of Weiss-related questions."

"Oh! Um, sure! Yang, what'll you have? I like the melon one," she added in a whisper.

"Um… I've never actually been to these kinds of places before. Y'know what, fuck it – surprise me!" As Penny nodded politely and left, Yang looked over to her sister again, quickly flipping her cell phone over so the screen was down – proving she was giving Ruby her complete and undivided attention. Where to start?! There was so much she wanted to say about their touring together that she hadn't had time to before. About the attack that happened, about Weiss in general, about Blake…

In the end, she settled for something else. "So… Penny's pretty nice, huh?"

Both of Ruby's cheeks lit up as she grinned, pushing her glasses further up her nose. "Oh yeah, she's totally the best! I can't believe I got so lucky with her as my roomie - I mean, she's cute, she's smart, she's nice, AND she actually cleans up sometimes instead of being a slob like-" Her words clipped off when she realized she was about to say "like you", but she had the good grace to look slightly abashed for the near miss.

Yang simply smirked at the near slip. Ruby tended to only ramble this much about a subject if she was very passionate about it, like with Weiss, or her studying, or Zwei. Things were beginning to add up in Yang's mind…

"So being here instead of home, that was your idea? Or Penny's?"

"Penny's. I mean, we both kicked around the idea of hanging out in New York sometime, like, a lot, but she was the one that asked if I'd wanna do Spring Break here and stay at her family's place and all that." Then she grinned. "Isn't it exciting?! I'm in New York City!!!"

"Yeah! It still blows my mind that we're the other side the country, and you're here at the same time!" After taking a glance to see how far Penny was down the queue, she turned back to Ruby, slinging an arm over the empty chair next to herself. "So, what are her parents like?"

"Oh, her Dad's super nice, really chill and homey!" Then her expression turned a little more uncertain. "Um… her Father, on the other hand… it's not that he's mean to me or a bad person, he's just kinda strict, and hard to warm up to, I guess."

"He really does sound like Weiss's dad…" But as soon as she let that slip, she quickly snapped her eyes open. Yang wouldn't know that unless she was extra close to her idol, and that was the last thing she wanted Ruby to suspect. "I-I mean, like, he's pretty strict with the rules I have to follow. No photos, no unscheduled signings, yadda yadda."

However, Ruby wasn't quite that thick. Her eyes narrowed as she looked at Yang, contemplating. "Why are you acting so funny about Weiss's dad? Is he being mean to my sister?" Suddenly, she shot to her feet. "I'll show him a thing or two about how my sister gets treated!!!"

"Ruby! Ruby!" She held her hands outward, trying to gesture for her to sit back down before any more attention was drawn to them. Checking the coast was clear, she laughed before whispering, "I meant mean to Weiss. Like… she's not allowed to do what she wants, dress how she wants, think for herself. She may be a popstar, but she still has so many rules set by him that she kinda feels boxed in sometimes."

"Oh…" That didn't seem to cheer her up much, but she did at least sit back down. "That's really not cool; I mean, she's such an awesome person – and obviously she's accepting of you, and she was so nice to me! She’s great how she is! So what's the point in him being so, so… control-ey?"

Yang shrugged her shoulders. "That's what I don't get; she’s got a better head on her shoulders than most people ten years older than her, and yet he treats her like she’s five. I mean…" She looked around a moment. Sure, she wasn't about to let the fact that Weiss and her were an item out of the bag, but there was a factor she remembered Weiss's father telling her before the tour began, one that Yang always cringed at when she remembered. "Even if she wanted to, I'm not allowed to let her, y’know, take anyone back to the van. If that's not controlling, I don't know what is."

"You mean she can't even have friends over? To her own tour bus?!" A little slow on the uptake, she seemed to eventually catch on to what Yang was implying, and the little sister blanched. "Ohhhh, you mean- WOW, that is SO none of his business! Geeze!"

"I know, right? He has no right to dictate that kinda stuff…"

But the blush was only growing against Ruby's cheeks as she fidgeted with her cup, staring into space. "I mean, if Weiss happens to find somebody she likes, and wants to take them back to her room… kiss them, play with their hair… maybe even let them give her a back massage… or I could go lower than her back…" Then she sat bolt upright, mortified. "THEY! They could go lower than her back! Not me, I didn't mean me!"

Shit. Of course, how could she forget? Ruby had a huge crush on Weiss. Considering the more recent circumstances between them, that made her big sister start to feel very awkward. After all, this was now her girlfriend Ruby was talking about – but she definitely couldn’t say she felt weird hearing her talk that way about her now, since their relationship was on the down low. Curling a finger through her hair, she tried to look to one side to shield her own blush.

"Y-Yeah… I mean, she can do what she wants. None of her dad’s business."

"Exactly! Up to and including massages! Or more!" Whispering to herself, she added, "No, don't think about 'more' - you promised not to do that!"

Yet again, Yang couldn't look at her sister. She'd give this all away if she asked her to stop, but to let her continue was only making things more and more uncomfortable. Scratching her head, she said quietly, "Don't tell her dad, but I… tend to look the other way when her… partner visits."

"Partner? Oh, so she…" Then her eyes went really round, and she leaned as close as she could, hissing under her breath, "Y-you mean Weiss has a secret lover?! And the tabloids have no idea?!"

That only caused her blush to intensify. Thankfully, she figured Ruby wouldn't suspect a thing. "Oh yeah, for a little while… somebody already close. But I can’t say anything – and you didn’t even hear this much from me, okay?!"

Something like a tiny squeal sounded deep in Ruby's throat, but muffled enough so that no one from other tables would probably notice. "I'm so freaking jealous! Wait, so who is it? No no no, don't tell me – I shouldn't know, oh I shouldn't know about this, but I wanna know so bad!"

Finally managing to handle herself enough, she looked back around, letting out another small nervous laugh. "Maybe when the tour is over. It's… really no one special. But she wouldn't want that info getting out anywhere – and I know you would never do anything with it, but you can't be too careful who hears."

"Who hears what?" Penny asked, placing the drink down in front of Yang. From the looks of things, she'd chosen orange juice to go with melon bubbles. Sitting herself by Ruby's side, she went straight back to her own tea, even though most of the bubbles had gone.

“My point exactly,” Yang snorted.

"N-nothing!" Ruby laughed nervously. "Just, you know… stuff! And things!" She gestured between Yang and Penny. "So, um, this is my sister; Sister, this is my Penny!"

Instantly Penny's eyes were just as round as Ruby's were, a blush joining the freckles on her cheeks. One of those words was certainly the cause. Leaning in toward Ruby, she nervously whispered. "R-Ruby, I thought we weren't telling her about that yet…"

"About what?" Her eyes crossed slightly as she ran back over what she had said, and then she slapped herself in the forehead. "D'oh! Th-that wasn't what I meant, I just got my words all mixed up!"

"So… your Penny, huh?" Yang could turn it to her advantage this time. At least it shifted the subject away from Weiss for a little while, and eased Yang's worries. As a bonus, she loved watching her sister get embarrassed.

And Penny wasn't helping at all when she just covered her face instead, groaning loudly into her hands. "Gosh darn it, Ruby, she knows!"

Slowly but surely, Ruby started melting down into her chair, covering her head with one of her various hoodies; today, it was a green one with a big white symbol in the middle from some comic book series or other.

"So I take it Ruby's the dominant one in this relationship! This just gets better and better!" Yang was teasing, quickly drinking a large portion of her tea. It wasn’t bad, even if the sensation of the tapioca pearls sliding down her throat was a little weird. But mostly, she was just glad to have it as a welcome distraction.

Although it seemed the other two needed it more. Penny especially, who could only cover her face with her hands. Although realising Ruby was vanishing under the table, she quickly pulled her back up. "Don't leave me alone with her! It was you that made it obvious!"

"Well… well it was… OH SHUSH, I didn't mean to and you know it!" All that was visible was her nose and mouth, and even then you could still tell she was beet red.

"Come on, your big sister wants details! Who asked who? When did it start? Were you roommates before or after it happened?"

Yang was going to keep insisting until one of them gave an answer. And now that she had ran out of drink and was left with just the few bubbles, Penny knew it was going to be her. Clearing her throat, she looked over to Ruby nervously as she held her hand under the table, and then back to Yang. "Well… Ruby and I were roommates from the beginning. We got along rather well, liked many of the same movies and books and things… and the relationship developed into a more romantic one from there."

"Yeah," Ruby added quietly, finally peeking out now that Penny had made it acceptable for them to be more open. "Um, I mean, I've never had a girlfriend before, so this is super new to me, so… but I mean, um… I can't imagine life without her now. Is that weird, this soon?"

Oh, the things that Yang wanted to say about her own experiences. Especially those recently. But for now, she had to smile, and simply shake her head. "That's not weird at all. First love makes people feel all kinds of ways. I mean, you know what I was like with Blake…"

At that, her sister tilted her head slightly. "Yeah, you said in a text that you saw Blake again, right? Was that… I dunno, awkward? Not awkward? Like I said, this is all new to me, so I don't know how it is seeing old girlfriends or anything…"

"No, actually! I think… I think we both needed it. I mean, we left on a somewhat bad note before; not fistfight bad but… heartbreak bad. But we're almost to the besties level again now. She has a new boyfriend now who seems pretty cool."

"Aww," Ruby sighed. "Was meeting the boyfriend weird? Yet again, another thing I know nothing about, but that seems like it would be worse than just seeing her again by herself."

Yang was half way through chewing one of the bubbles as she shook her head, swallowing before continuing. "Well… At first it was, sure. But after a while, nah. He seems like a down to earth guy, reminds me of me before I came out. Guess Blake has a type!"

At that, Ruby smiled slightly. "Really? You think maybe he's…"

She gestured to Yang with her cup, a very non-specific gesture that would make nothing obvious to anyone who didn't know about the bodyguard's gender history. It took Yang a moment to realise, until she gasped, "Oh! No. Least… I'm pretty sure he's not." But on that note, she gazed into nothing for a moment, trying to remember what she could about him. Specifically, a comment about sizes. "Aaand from something Blake said, I don’t think he’s a trans dude, either."

"That'd be cool, though! You could be buddies!" Then she glanced at Penny slightly nervously before adding, "And, um, maybe you can give him some… tips? With Blake? What she, uhhh, enjoys?"

"Ruuuubyyyy!!!" Yet again Penny was hiding her head in her hands, cheeks as red as Ruby's usual hoodie. All of which was making Yang smirk and chuckle to herself. Penny was just as much fun to wind up as her sister was!

But nonetheless, she leant in toward her, whispering, "Never underestimate the power of some dedicated foreplay. That's all I'll say in public."

Which was plenty to make Ruby turn even redder than Penny. "Ummmmm I have go to the bathroom!" she squeaked as she hopped up, sprinting for the corner of the establishment.

"Hey, don't leave me alone with her! Ruby!!!" But Penny was left with no choice as she watched her girlfriend vanish into the bathrooms, left only with a red face, and the now laughing older sister. As she ran her hands through her mass of ginger hair, she laid her head on the table and groaned. "This dinner is going to be so embarrassing…"

A very self-satisfied Weiss Schnee strolled into a mid-sized music store in Midtown Manhattan. By all online reviews, Williams Music was known for having top-of-the-line instruments, even if they didn't have a lot of variety due to space constraints. However, she was after was one specific instrument – which they definitely stocked. She had called ahead to be completely certain.

Spotting an employee lingering by books of bass tabs, she said in a polite-but-frank voice, "Excuse me. I need to purchase a guitar."

"Other end of the store," was the abrupt response of the store clerk. Her look was fitting for this type of establishment; bright green hair swept to one side, with a purple hoodie on top to hold it together. She certainly seemed the type to spend many hours tuning her bass under a blacklight. But despite the fact that all she was doing for the moment was chewing gum and reading, she didn't even stop to look at who asked her.

"Yes," Weiss began again, mood only slightly dampened by the attitude of the clerk. "I'm sure that's where they are located. But I'd like to make sure I get the best you have."

The employee finally set her book down. Of course, her attitude was still no better as she first looked her form up and down, before she started to pace toward the back of the shop. She didn't even stop to check if she was following! After all the preferential treatment she had received the past couple of years, Weiss was sorely tempted to whip off the sunglasses and the beanie she had stuffed her hair into. Why shouldn't her star power command a little respect? But she had promised Yang she wouldn't take unnecessary risks, and she aimed to keep it. Besides, it was kind of nice to have someone treat her just like anyone else for a change.

Finally, they arrived at an array of guitars along one wall. Most of them were various high-end electric models, racked up next to electric basses. However, there were six or so acoustics on display, and they all looked nice enough.

"Excellent! So… which one would you recommend? I'd pick the most expensive, but that's not always the same as buying the best."

"If you got money to burn then go for the Epiphone, I don't care." Turning back around toward her, she gestured to the black guitar, one that had a few white markings painted over it. There was no immediate response. Picking up that she was unimpressed, the clerk sighed. "What skill level is the player at? Unless it’s you." The last was tacked on purely for spite, insinuating that Weiss couldn’t possibly be a musician.

"Expert on Guitar Hero." After a few seconds, Weiss folded her arms. "Fine. She's got some real talent that I want to encourage – and I intend for the guitar to reflect her talent level. Also, I want it to last a long time, so nothing made with flimsy parts."

Looking at the racked up guitars again, the punk paced down slightly to the plainish yellow guitar, one that had a mottled brown-and-red pick guard below the sound hole. "Then you want a Yamaha JR1. Pretty mid-range pricewise, durable. For her skill level, it'll be the best choice."

"Hmm, that particular brand would be quite fitting…" Brushing over the surface with her fingertips, Weiss eventually took it from the employee and hefted the weight. "Seems solid enough.” Then she played a couple of easy chords, tuned a peg very slightly and tried again. It piqued the employee’s interest a little more, though she didn’t comment directly. “Does it come in any other colours? This finish is nice, but seems a bit… common. If the sound and quality will be the same, I would rather get her something that shows I put more thought into the gift."

"Nothing stoppin' you gettin' a paint job. But we have a catalogue of the ones we offer right… here." Picking out a small book from the shelf under the display, she quickly flicked through the pages until she found the Yamaha section. Then she handed it over to Weiss.

After a few seconds, Weiss took her sunglasses off and clipped them to the front of her shirt as she glanced down the selections. There weren't many besides the yellow finish; a natural one, a cherry red one, and one that seemed to take the yellow one and add a dark stain around the edges. That one appealed to her the most, and she had a suspicion Yang would appreciate it, as well.

"Do you have 'Tobacco Sunburst' in stock at all?" she asked as she looked up.

"Maybe, but I don’t- don’t…"

When her eyes caught those of her customer, she found herself completely freezing solid. She knew that face, those eyes, the white hair… even the voice. It'd snapped just who she was talking to at last. Weiss Schnee! THE Weiss Schnee was there in that very music store!

But she couldn't let her know that. Not yet. First, she had to be sure this was her, and do her job. So instead, she nodded. Voice now a slightly higher pitch, along with an awkward smile, she tried to sound as detached as before – and failed. "Sure! Let me just go fetch one from the back room for you!"

"Uhh… thank you. Oh, and if there's a matching case for it, I'll also take one of those!" But the woman was already retreating, so she simply hoped she had heard her request and turned to browse through a potpourri of guitar picks that were littered about in a basket.

As her assistant wandered into the store room, her mind was completely abuzz. Even though she was set on her task, she couldn't stop thinking about what she had just saw. 'That was Weiss! Holy shit, that was actually her, in the flesh! You've been trying to get into one of her concerts for well over a year and she walks in, and you treat her like crap – way to fucking go, Reese! Why are you like this?'

When she found the selection of guitars, she grabbed the finish she had asked for. The nicest one in the stockroom; it was the least she could do. And on her way back, she went to look for a case that would match it fairly well.

'Okay, calm down… It still might not be her. But if it is her, she'll have a tour bus or something, right?' She picked up a yellow ones that had a tribal dragon design over its casing. Something was telling her this would be the one she would want. 'That's it!' she thought as she made her way out with both items. 'Get Arslan to ring her up, then you can sneak out and follow her on your break! If it's not really Weiss, you come straight back. If it is, can you imagine the stuff you'd see?!'

When Reese returned from the stockroom, Weiss had selected two or three picks that struck her fancy and was inspecting a tuba out of boredom. When her eyes alighted on the case, complete with guitar tucked inside, she began to smile.

"Ooh… you know, I think that complements the guitar quite well."

'That's her, definitely. You've listened to more than enough interviews to know her voice.' She handed both items over to her seemingly famous client. Now she just had to get away for a while.

"I figured it did, y'know, the whole torched thing, plus a dragon. Now if you head over to my friend at the counter, they should be able to put it all together as a package deal for you; we’re having a promotion for guitars bought with cases. Knock off a few bucks."

"Ah," Weiss said with a polite smile as she took the case. By now, they both knew that the money didn't matter to someone like her, but Weiss didn't know Reese knew. "Well, that is much appreciated. Thank you for the assistance." Then, with a slight nod, she headed off toward the counter to complete her transaction.

"No, thank you…" She spoke quietly to herself as Weiss headed to the counter. Her plan was in action. As Weiss was being served, she made a quick dash to the staff room to sign herself out for break, then grabbed her skateboard and headed out the main doors into the hustle and bustle of the outside crowd. If she blended in, she knew Weiss would never have any chance of noticing her…

Sure enough, by the time Weiss was through talking to the dark-skinned woman with bleached-blonde hair at the counter, signing warranties and declining to become part of their mailing list, she had forgotten about Reese entirely; she was too focused on having made one of the most important purchases of her life.

"Yang is going to love this," she whispered to herself as her burly security guard motioned to the cabbie who had kept the car idling for her as she shopped. The man hopped out and helped her situate the large giftwrapped case in the back seat, where Weiss would still have plenty of room to sit next to it on their way back to her bus, the guard taking the passenger seat.

Thankfully, the traffic was rather slow in the area. Which meant that she couldn't easily keep up with the taxi in the traffic without having to get her own, but she managed – even if she did have to hastily warn some of the bystanders to jump out of the way. Every time there was a red light, Reese had caught up again, even if it had managed to get a few metres down the road.

Within twenty minutes or so, they were back to the parked bus. As the guard assisted Weiss with her things once more and Weiss tipped her cabbie generously, Reese was keeping an eye on them from a distance. It was definitely her, and the bus proved it one hundred percent. Now was the next issue: getting in unnoticed.

The guard held the door open so Weiss could struggle with the overlarge case. It wasn't all that bulky, but then again, Weiss was not an especially big person. Then she was inside and out of sight, the guard remaining outside of the door.

'This is gonna be a little tougher than I thought,' Reese mused as she hid her skateboard nearby. What were her options? She could hardly pay off a guard, not when she was barely making enough to afford an apartment in the Bronx. Nor could she fight him down. The only other option was…

A window. Weiss had left one of the windows at the rear of the bus wide open, presumably to let in the fresh air while she was out. It wasn't in the eyeline of the guard, and so pacing to it was simple. Keeping out of sight of him, she walked around to it, listening out for any possible sign that Weiss would be out of the way so she could enter, or at least just have a look…

A light humming was coming from the window. Not loud enough to signal that she was in that room itself, but she was definitely in the bus. Then the sound of running water gave away her location. It didn’t stop, which meant a shower, not just washing her hands; perfect. She wouldn't be coming out for a while.

Hauling herself up and straight through the window; she tried to make no noise whatsoever. And landing on the sofa meant she did that with ease. She'd done it! She was inside Weiss's tour bus!

"Oh man, nobody's ever gonna believe this," she whispered quietly, heart pounding in her throat. Where to start? What was she even doing in there?! The main room didn't have much to offer of value; just a few tables and seats, the wrapped guitar in its case, a couple of pairs of boots… though she happened to notice one pair seemed a bit too big for the diva herself.

Curiosity was getting the better of her, and when she looked toward the main bedroom area, she couldn't resist. As quietly as possible, she made her way inside, nudging the door closed behind her to make sure she was hidden that while longer. Yet even there offered very little in actual items that would make for a really cool memento. Was Weiss as pure and dull as everyone believed?

However, one thing did catch her eye in an unexpected place. In anyone else's household, she would have turned her nose up at the sight, but here, there was a story to tell in the laundry basket. One she couldn’t believe. On top lay a pair of black shorts, stained with the telltale remnants of a wild night. That added with the bigger boots she'd seen…

‘Weiss isn't the innocent, All-American sweetheart everyone thinks she is,’ she thought to herself with a quiet chuckle. ‘Shoulda seen that coming…’

Suddenly, the sound of running water stopped. There were shuffling sounds from inside the bathroom; it wouldn't be long now before the diva emerged, and the bedroom was her next likely destination. Eyes snapping wide open, the intruder realised she didn't have much time left. She needed to take something if she wanted people to believe her! Some kind of trinket that wouldn't be noticed, but enough to prove it.

Spotting the hairbrush on the small dressing table, she quickly nabbed it, forcing it into the large pocket of her hoodie and making her escape to the door. That would have to do. But as she opened it, she realised her escape plan had come too late.

Standing before her was Weiss herself, one towel tucked around her torso, and another wrapping up her hair in a makeshift turban. Those were the only things covering her flawless white skin. For a few seconds, she merely blinked at the girl who was somehow in her bedroom – and blushing from being this close to a nearly-nude celebrity. Then she opened her mouth, and the first words out of it were almost inane.

"Um… can I help you?"

Her intruder didn't even have any words. All she could do was stare back at the underdressed diva in front of her, blinking herself a few times to try and focus. Her mouth did work for a second, as if she could come up with anything to say that would fix this situation.

Until she made a quick dash toward the open window again.

"HEY!" Weiss shouted loudly, pelting after her. "Wait, wh-what are you doing in here?! And where are you going?!"

She almost cut off her retreat, but not fast enough. The intruder had already thrown herself out the window, dashing away from the scene. The damage had already been done; a complete stranger had been in her home, raided through her things, and made off to tell the tale.

But what she didn't consider was the bike pulling up just by the bus from the opposite side. Yang had managed to get back early, with the thought in mind of using the shower herself before they headed for dinner at Penny's. But upon dismounting, she could hear a strange amount of shouting…

All Weiss could think to shout while half of her torso was hanging out of her living room window was, "STOP! THIEF!!!" One arm held her towel over her chest while the other was levelled in the green-haired punk's direction as she snatched up her skateboard from where it had been stashed behind a trash can.

There was no hesitation. Instantly Yang was in pursuit by foot, dashing right past the van and heading the same direction as the green haired thief. In the busy streets, it was a difficult chase, especially when numerous people were looking around at them, curious of what was happening.

But having barely made it past one block, the chase was over. Yang had launched herself forward, latching her arms around the green haired thief and tackling her to the ground, sending her skateboard flying backward in the opposite direction. Despite her requests to be let go, Yang held firm, managing to adjust her position to pin the girl's hands behind her back, where she held them firm.

"What's the big deal?! I didn't take anything valuable! I just looked around!"

"You can talk to the rest of the security team about that. Now move it!"

Unconcerned about the growing crowd around them, Yang had hauled the green haired thief to her feet despite protest, keeping her hands restrained as she walked her right back to the bus's location. At least that way, the security could hold her until authorities were phoned, and Weiss could get answers she needed.

By the time Yang returned, Weiss was wearing a simple white dress and green flats that didn't particularly suit each other, but they had been pulled on in a hurry. Her hair was still in the turban. A crowd had gathered outside the bus, one or two people snapping pictures with their phones, and she certainly didn't want to be caught with a towel that could fall off at the worst possible moment.

"Thank you for grabbing her," Weiss sighed in relief. Then she fired back up at once. "You ought to be ashamed of yourself – and I can't believe you followed me here from the store!"

Teeth gritted in mild pain, Reese struggled in Yang's grip. "Hey, what do you expect?! Not every day a popstar comes in. Real question is, someone as big as you, why'd you leave a window open?!"

The comment only made Yang angry for Weiss. Right away, she pulled the girl's arms in tighter behind her back, growling lowly. "Because she's still a person? An open window ain’t an open invitation into somebody else’s home! You ever consider that before you did this?!"

"Exactly!" Weiss agreed heatedly, hands on her hips. "You have broken the law, and I'm afraid you're just going to have to live with the consequences!"

"Come on, anyone would have done what I just did! It doesn't matter if I broke some dumb law or not! Anyone would have jumped at the chance to get a sneak peek into Weiss's life – which as it turns out ain't so innocent after all!"

That response earned a few gasps from their gathering crowd, not to mention, a rather horrified look from her bodyguard. There wasn't anything to give things away inside the bus, was there?

"Wh… I don’t understand, what are you talking about?" Weiss breathed, quietly enough that the others gathered would not overhear. Her blood was running cold, her palms tingling.

"Some of the clothes in there aren't yours, and some of your laundry is… extremely dirty."

Right away, Yang knew. She remembered leaving the shorts she had used to wipe away the remains of that night in Weiss's laundry basket. But what angered her more than this intruder knowing that business was knowing that she had been in her bedroom. It was such a violation. Before she could reflect on that for too long, she forced her toward the nearest security staff to hand, trusting them to hold onto her instead. Any longer and she knew she would have ended up doing something she regretted.

But Weiss wasn't above a low blow. She followed, keeping an eye on Yang's clearly upset features out of the corner of her eye. As the police sirens began to reach her ears, she leaned in and grasped the collar of Reese's hoodie.

"Listen, you. Maybe I do have a personal life outside what I let my fans know about. But it's still my personal life – and you're still the one who broke into my bus AND went rifling through my laundry! How can you stand there and judge me?!"

"Because everyone else is gonna do it anyway. You really think cuffing me’s gonna change that?" Reese shook her head. She looked scared, but also angry at being forced to own up to her own actions. “God, all I wanted was to get a souvenir and a story! You really forgot where you came from. Well, good luck sweeping this one under the rug.”

Those were the last words the scorned fan spoke before the security staff hauled her away toward the oncoming police cars. An ominous warning that this was going to change Weiss’s life. But she didn’t know anything – not really. Whether it was the ramblings of a crazed fan or not, Yang didn't care. All she did was glare at the woman as she was forced into the back of a squad car.

But upon noticing how big of a crowd had actually gathered around them, that seemed to be the last straw for her. Raising her hands upward, Yang practically spat, "What's everyone gawking at, huh?! Show's over!"

Once the suspect was in custody, an officer had taken Weiss’s statement, as well as Yang's; finding out she was employed to protect Weiss's interests seemed to be enough to satisfy their curiosity as to why she had chased down Reese on foot. They did turn up the hairbrush in her pocket, but it could not be returned yet; it was evidence now. The fingerprints from her window provided only one clear set; there were others inside, but they were so muddled up with her own and Yang's that it didn't matter. None of the police even gave the laundry a second glance – luckily for them both. It was such a cut-and-dry case of a fan breaking in to steal a single item that there seemed to be no need.

But now they had to deal with the consequences of Reese’s outburst. It may be just a minor inconvenience for everyone else, but for Yang and Weiss, this would have widespread effects. Even if Yang's reputation was completely unharmed by the transpiring events, Weiss's was potentially under threat. All it took was one silly rumour to potentially ruin her reputation, and get her in major trouble with her father. Yang cared more about that than anything else.

Taking a seat in the sofa, she hesitated a moment before she asked, "You okay?"

"No," Weiss sighed, face in her hands. "I feel so stupid – I shouldn't have left the window open, but I wanted to air out my musty bus, and it was only… I thought the guard being with me at all times would have been enough, he should have been enough! Why can't people just… just let me live my life?!"

Rather than say anything else, Yang sighed deeply, wrapping her arms around her and pulling her body in close. The very idea that this whole thing happened was enough to make Yang's blood boil. But she couldn't let that feeling take over. Weiss was her priority. And she was going to do everything in her power to make her feel safe again.

"You're right, it should be enough." Yang repeated, stroking her shoulder softly. "Don't blame yourself, you're allowed to have a window open, it's not like you're a prisoner."

"But I shouldn't have to post a guard at every corner of the… oh, never mind. I just hate this." Sighing, she leaned back against the couch. "And now I don't feel comfortable here, I… god, I just want to be home in Nashville for once."

Looking around the bus a moment, Yang count understand why. The idea someone had been in here without either of their knowledge, even if no harm came to her… the thought of someone rooting through their personal belongings was enough to make Yang's skin crawl.

"Well… we could always book a hotel room or something. I mean, we're here for all your gigs, right? It’s gonna be a while."

"Suppose you're right. And… and maybe that sounds okay, but I don't want to draw undue attention to this by having people camp outside the hotel, trying to figure out why I'm there instead of my bus."

"Ugh… you're right about that. What else can we do?" Leaning forward, she ran a hand over her face as she tried to think. The bus wasn't the best place to be at the present, and hotels would draw attention. It was a shame that they didn't know anyone in the city that had a place of their own-

Then Yang suddenly snapped her fingers instead. They did know someone in New York City. Perhaps not with a place of their own, but it didn't hurt to ask. And with that knowledge in mind, she pulled her cell phone back out of her pocket, quickly typing away.

"Let’s try for a plan B."