#theres just something about owning dogs that have peoples brains sliding right out their fucking asses honestly

[snorfbin]

.

[thewritingstar]

Until My Heart Stops Racing

Pairing: Mitch x Mike (or Bitch as I like to call them, ya know cause Believe x Mitch.....nvm lol) 

Fandom: The Powerpuff Girls 

Note: This was a commission for the wonderful @lisathefan who gave me the cutest prompt and I know she loves her crack ships. I hope you enjoy my dear and thanks to my beta, Faxx for helping me! 

Word count: 5538

---

The car whipped into the parking space, dirt flying around us and I felt my heart rate finally go back to its normal beating. I looked over to Butch who had a goofy grin and ignoring everything he just did.

“Butch your driving is terrible. Now I get why you fly everywhere.” I groaned as I finally got out of the car. “I swear if Brick saw how you drove this thing... actually I don’t want to think about it.” I thought that speeding was illegal but apparently if the cops can’t even see your car, it's a free pass. And being in touch with the puffs might be a bonus we all have.

Butch let out a laugh before locking the car. “Relaxe Mike, what Brick doesn’t know won’t hurt him.” He shrugged and sometimes I wondered how he could even say that. Brick could kill someone with just a glance but when you are a superhuman, and his brother, maybe the effect doesn’t work.

Maybe I should ask Blossom about that.

The beeping of other cars brought me out of my trance as I followed him on the dirt path.

“Anyways, why did you drag me all the way out here?” I turned to see the lights and the signs. “The fair?”

In front of me was the entrance to what could only be deemed as a somehow legal way to make people shell out three hundred dollars on cheap food and even cheaper ride systems. Every kid wanted to go to the fair and, yeah, it was fun when you were five, but now that we had just graduated high school, it seemed more dangerous than fun.

“Yeah, why not?”

I glanced at him and he only smiled widely but something in his eyes had mischief written all over it. “What's the deal?”

He sighed and smirked.

“A little birdy told me you got heart eyes for a certain someone.” Butch threw his arm around my shoulder. “And as the king of romance, I’m gonna help you out.”

Theres always a small tinge of fear whenever Butch gets an idea. It either ends badly where someone gets hurt, usually him or bad in the way that we all get in trouble and the notorious Powerpuff Girls have to get us out of it. But this...this was much worse.

“Butch, what did you do?” I said through gritted teeth. He only laughed at me instead of answering and pushed up towards the gates.

“Relax. Look they are here.” He pointed.

I followed his sight and walking up towards us was Buttercup, Robin and Mitch. Butch let out another laugh, probably because he could hear my heartbeat. Fuck superhearing. Of course Robin opened her mouth. You tell a girl while you’re throwing up that you have the biggest crush on your best friend who wears dark leather, has piercings and makes your heart swoon and think that she can keep her mouth shut. But no, she can’t.

“Hey guys.” Butch waves to him before leaving me to wrap his arms around Buttercup and ignore the public by kissing her square on the lips. PDA is always gross unless you’re the one doing it, so I can’t blame them. Also it's funny to watch her smack his arm.

“Sup Mikey.” Robin smiles smugly. Little demon.

“Hey. Hi Mitch.” He gives me a wave and a nod of the head and I have to mentally tell myself not to blush. Stupid hormons.

“Come on you two.” Robin says and grabs my arm and Mitch’s and forces us towards the carnival’s entrance. “Lets go!”

One of the perks to being besties with the puffs is the mass amount of freebies. Buttercup swiftly pulled out a ticket for each of us and handed it to the ticket collector.

“Sweet, free entrance.” Mitch smiled at me and held up his hand for a fist bump.

I gladly returned the gesture and every time I did so, I wondered if he could feel the electric spark between us. God, I need to stop reading romance novels.

“Alright losers. We’ll see you all later tonight, meet up for fireworks at 9?” Buttercup said and apparently everyone already had a plan that I was not aware of.

“Sounds good to me!” Butch smirked. “BC and I are going to do coupley stuff no one wants to see and Robin said something about henna soooooo.” He looked at me. “Guess Mitchy boy and Mikey are on their own.” I didn’t miss his wink and before I could protest, everyone was walking away.

My mind was now racing as I tried to comprehend what was happening. I realized in this moment that the group had ganged up on us, well specifically me. Mitch probably didn’t even think twice as the group broke up but they were out of their minds if they thought something was going to happen.

“Wanna hit the rides?” He asked.

I take a breath before nodding. We turn into the direction of the ride area and I have to remind myself that he is just a friend. A friend. Nothing more, nothing less. I usually have my emotions in check but for some reason, they want to act up now. All I have to do is get through tonight without embarrassing myself or giving Butch the satisfation of him being the king of romance. As if that were possible.

The area is buzzing with so much energy. There’s little kids whining and screams coming from the various rides. The smells of corn dogs, popcorn and, oddly enough, waffles mixed in the air and I can’t tell if it smells good or not but I know my pockets are gonna be much lighter by the end of the night.

We get into the shortest line for the tickets and it's truly a scam that each ride is a separate cost.

“I don’t feel like dying tonight so I think two rides is good for me.” Mitch says and I laugh a little because it's true. Just watching the swings makes me feel like one of them unhinge and plummet to the ground but that's what I get for being a paranoid person.

“I feel you. How about the rollercoaster and ummm... the spinning ride?” I suggest.

“Sounds good to me.” He smiles and god fucking dammit, those damn dimples.

The line moves as we chat about the newest horror movie coming into theaters and how Mitch saw a certain pair of redheads making out in a car.

“Wait for real?”

“I swear to god dude.” He raised his hand. “Unless some other chick wears a big ass bow, it has to be them.”

“Interesting.” I smile and soon we get called next.

“Hi there boys, how many tickets can I get ya?” the older woman asks.

“Ten.” Mitch says and I reach into my pocket to grab my wallet, that may or may not have a photo of all of our friends and definitely not for the reason that I can see his face at any given time, but Mitch stops me and places the cash in the tin. “I got it.” he says casually and something inside me felt all warm and fuzzy as the row of blue tickets was handed to him.

“Have a nice date night.” The woman says as we walk away and I almost do a double take thinking I heard her wrong. But when I look over to Mitch, he seems unaffected by the words so I just let it slide.

The rollercoaster isn’t as grand or cool as the ones at the theme park, it doesn’t even go upside down but it has a good bit of hills and bumps to give some air time so i guess it will do. The only problem is that these workers don’t care and make Mitch and I sit in the same cart as these two younger kids.

After we get the bars onto us, the ride starts to go. In front of us the girl grabs the boy's arm and I give a small eye roll as we start to climb the lift hill.

“Babe I'm scared.” She cries and he wraps an arm around her shoulders and I’ve never been so jealous of middle schoolers before.

“These carts are so damn small.” Mitch complains. And it's true. The two of us squished in this together leaves no space for our arms. The pressure of our shoulders touching isn’t too bad but it's to the point it almost hurts. “Hold on.” He says and I feel him pull his right arm away from mine and throw it behind us. “Sorry this is better.”

“No, it's cool bro.” I say even though I realize that this boy really just made it ten times harder to breath now.

I can barely grasp my surroundings as the rollercoaster takes its first turn before the drop. I can see the ending of the track as we go down but the only thing my brain is processing is the fingers tightening on my shoulder.

“Holy shit.” I mumble hoping that Mitch doesn’t know how he's affecting me.

We let out screams and shouts as we go up and down, flying around on the track and I try to enjoy myself, I really do. Before long, it's over and Mitch reaches his hand out to help me up and I take it with silence.

“That was fun.” He smiles and I am really happy he ignored his moms protests and got that lip piercing. It suits him.

“Yeah.” Is all I can muster and he gives me a look before walking towards the next ride.

Luckily as we enter this ride, there’s more room. Only our knees touch as we buckle in the seatbelt and I feel myself being able to breathe better.

“Good thing we didn’t eat before getting on here.” I laugh as the lights start to flash.

He snorts and nods. “Robin would have blown chunks either way.”

The ride is a simple circular track with small hills. All it does is follow the path and goes around pretty fast. Simple but a classic. The music begins and soon we feel the cart shift. I'm sitting on the right while Mitch is on the left, next to the exit and he wiggles off his black beanie just for good measure. His light brown hair, slightly damaged from dying it black back in freshman year, is ruffled from hat hair and my god is it cute.

“Fucking love this ride.” Mitch smiles and it begins to pick up the pace.

Soon, we are at full speed, which is fine. Perfectly fine. Except for the fact that the gravity from the ride is pulling me towards Mitch and no matter how tight I hold on, I end up smacked against him. Shoulders touching and I can clearly smell his cologne. It's the scent of sandalwood and campfire and my god does it smell heavenly. Men just smell like nature and I am more than okay with that.

But Mitch doesn’t mind, because why would he? Instead he's laughing and truly enjoying the ride. I smile and laugh too because honestly, it's just fun to spend time with him. The ride is over faster than I wanted and we hop off, slightly dizzy and I walk a little out of line but he catches my arm and pulls me to him.

“Easy dude.” He chuckles and I nudge him playfully and ruffle his hair before he plops on his beanie. Goodbye cute hat hair.

All of a sudden, my shoulder is hit. It was a pretty hard smack and my body jolted to the side as Mitch grabbed me from falling.

“Look a bunch of homos.” I look up and realize that it's some assholes from our school.

Duke Jones and Mark Dalton. Some of the few people who actually try to be douchebags on the regular.

My eyes do heavy eye rolls and I want to scream at them but I've never been a confronting person. My voice is in my throat but Mitch takes a step forward, his hand never leaving my arm.

“And what of it? Really dudes? You think some lame insult is gonna hurt our feelings. You’re lucky I don’t just kick your ass, better enough I can call Buttercup in a second and have your bodies all the way across this place. Grow the fuck up and maybe don’t choke on your toxic masculanity.” He sneered and sometimes I forget that Mitch can be pretty intimidating.

Their eyes widened as Mitch pulled out his phone to show BC’s number. They mutter something before turning and rushing off in a hurry.

“You okay?” He asks me.

“Yeah.” I say. “Sorry you got caught in that.”

“It's not a big deal.”

But it is. It's not a secret that I'm out and proud. Yeah its cool and all to not have to be closeted, even Princess came out last year so its nice to know that someone higher up won’t pick on me, but even then, it sucks. No matter where I go in life, someone will be there with a flame thrower of slurs or anger for something I didn’t choose. As for Mitch, theres something about him being called gay and him not having a hissy fit about it that makes me feel safe. Uhh fuck.

I take a second to recollect myself and Mitch just pulls me from the herds of eyes that saw that fiasco.

“Lets go here.” He points to the hall of mirrors and for some reason it's beginning to get extremely hard to be around him.

But I take a deep breath and push those feelings to the side once again.

--

The hall of mirrors was by far the lamest thing the fair could have done. Sure, as a little kid it was cool and slightly scary but now, all of our heads could see just above the tips of the mirrors making it lose the effect. It probably would have been more fun if the others were there. Butch would hide behind the mirros trying to scare us before Buttercup sent some lasers his way causing them to bounce everywhere and making us duck and cover. Good times. However, it was just Mitch and me.

While Mitch was walking, I couldn’t stop thinking about those jerks just now. Of course everyone already knew about my preference but Mitch seemed unbothered by being referred to as gay. Probably because he's not some asshole that thinks it's a bad thing, I mean if he did, why would he be friends with me for all this time? He’s just a good person, that's all.

Not to sound like the coming of age kid, but I knew I was into dudes before I could comprehend the idea of love or romance, I just thought they were pretty to look at. Moving to a new city at such a young age was hard for me, not to mention the whole invisible friend that tried to kill everyone. But after everything was said and done, I did in fact make some friends.

The famous superheroes had become my pals and when Buttercup introduced me to Mitch, I think that's when it all went downhill. We became the dynamic duo and everyone always paired us as the best friends, which is true but...it makes me feel guilty.

He turned a corner and I stopped walking. All of a sudden I was lost and staring at a mirror. Just me in my beat up sneakers and the uncertain face I seem to be wearing a lot lately. There's always a time in your life where you stop and contemplate everything, question all your decisions and how nothing truly matters.

“Hey you stopped walking?” Mitch said to me and I looked at him with a shaky smile.

“Sorry. Lost in thought I guess.”

“Care to share?” He asked and leaned against one of the mirrors.

I laughed to myself thinking about what I could possibly say. “Yeah sure Mitch, why don’t I just tell you that I’m in love with you and how it pains me to wake up to know that you will only see me as just a friend. Why don’t I just rip out my heart and put it on a silver platter for you to squash or just confess and kiss you here, ignoring all the states and hopefully pissing off some people?”

“...What?”

My eyes shot open and my eyes met his. He looked at me with confusion and shock. His mouth hung open slightly and it took me a solid three seconds to relaize that my dumb ass had just blurted that all out.

Panic. That's all I could feel as he stared like a deer caught in headlights. I could feel myself on the verge of tears and suddenly the air was too thick as I turned and ran, not caring about the employee telling me I was going the wrong way.

Mitch’s voice echoed behind me but I couldn’t stand to turn and look towards him. To hear the pure rejection and probably the disgust. Throwing away years of friendship for some stupid feelings? What was I thinking?

After nearly hitting my head several times, I made it out and ignored the weird stares and glances people were giving me. All I wanted to do was find Butch and get out of here and hope that I can just pack up and move away for college. Maybe even change my name.

Instead I found myself pushing my way into the bathroom stall and biting my arm to stifle my sobs. I felt like my heart was about to shatter, that all my nightmares where coming true all thanks to my stupid mouth. I was a fool to think that someone like him would even consider me as something more, a complete and utter fool.

“Mike?” A voice called and of course the sneakers peaking outside the stall belonged to Butch.

“What?” I spat bitterly. “Go away.”

I barely heard his sigh. “Dude, I don’t know what happened but suddenly Buttercup saw you burst into here. Really dude, is everything fine? At least come out and talk to us. Plus it smells really bad in here and there's a line of dudes.”

There's some truth to the matter and I wiped my face and pushed open the stall with a little too much force but luckily he grabbed it and just nodded towards the exit.

Robin and Buttercup are standing outside and luckily, I don’t see Mitch.

“Wanna explain what happened?” Robin asks as she hands me a tissue from her purse.

“No. I just wanna go home.”

Buttercup looks arounds then back to me. “Where's Mitch.”

“Probably somewhere and never wants to see me again.” I mumble.

“What?” She asks and looks towards Butch then back to me.

Butch raised his brow. “Mike, did you tell him?”

“Tell him what?” Buttercup asked.

It was at that moment that Buttercup didn’t know that I was practically in love with her best friend. Maybe Robin and Butch planned this together but it didn’t matter, not anymore. I would be losing two friends after this. Great.

“Look. It doesn’t matter. He doesn’t feel the same way.” My throat is dry and it hurts and there's no doubt that my face is red and flushed with tears. “I'm just gonna call my mom to come get me.”

“Come on Mike don’t go.” Robin asked and she padded my arm.

“You don’t get it, Robin.” I spat. “You don’t understand what I just did. Thanks to someone’s dumb idea, I now lost my best friend. And for what? Did we really think he would like me back? That he could even see me in such a way? I don’t even know if he’s gay or let alone into dudes. But who gives fuck? I don’t.”

Butch took a step towards me but my anger only rose. “C’mon Mike I'm sure-”

“This was a stupid idea Butch!” I yelled and at that moment I didn’t care what anyone thought. I was embarrassed and hurt. “I just want to be alone.” I pushed past him and the others, ignoring everything they were saying because it didn’t matter any more.

It didn’t matter that my friends tried to help something that shouldn’t have even been considered. It was just a stupid crush. Nothing more, nothing less. Hopefully by the new semester, it would be gone and out of my system…. hopefully. A stupid crush that I’d been harboring for years and titling on a scale of something more.

It wasn’t long until my tears dried and I found myself among the section of carnival games. All of the rigged and hard to win and if you did win, it would be a small sappy prize that you would toss into a garbage bag or try to sell for a nickel at a garage sale.

There were darts and guessing the weight of a small pig. The basketball tossing and hitting the giant hammer looked tempting but instead I walked to the game that no one had ever won. Ring toss. A game of chance and so incredibly rigged, it's a miracle if one prize is won in a year.

Without a second thought, I gave up a fresh twenty dollar bill and the girl working, who clearly hated her job, handed me the biggest bucket of rings. Enough to keep me entertained until I call my mom or muster up enough courage to ask Butch for a ride back like a dog with its tail inbetween its legs.

I thought I had it all figured out. I thought I could be okay with this. But I was stupid. Stupid to think that the boy I had a crush on, one of my best friends, would like me back, or even be into dudes for that matter. But no, instead of having my secret crush kept, ya know, a secret, the one person who shouldn’t know, did.

I tossed another ring into the sea of bottles, the high pitched clinking echoed for just a moment as another was tossed. Maybe this was pointless. Maybe trying to figure out feelings was a waste of time because in all honesty, I never knew.

Like the plastic rings people pay way too much for, you jump and you think you’ll land on that bottle, secure the prize and show everyone up. Prove that you can do the impossible.

But then you miss and reality comes back. The bucket dwindles down and soon you’re left with nothing but regret for trying and shorting eight bucks.

“Hey.”

I turned, of course he would follow me. Why wouldn’t he? He was probably here just to tell me to let it go and sweep it under the rug, and say it's not weird when it totally is. Or he was going to come out and say that maybe our friendship has come to its expiration date.

“Oh. Hey.” I threw another one, missing again.

I tried not to care as he stood next to me but I passed him the bucket and he took his own shot, missing, just like me.

“Have you been crying?” He asked and there was no way around it.

“Yep.” I popped the p and threw another ring. “Look Mitch, I’m sorry what I said-”

“Don’t be.”.

Oh

“Most guys would just push someone like me away if that happened.”

He hummed and tossed a ring, missing. “Well, I’m not like most guys and I thought that was pretty clear. Especially after those jerks. I value your friendship too much to get worried or upset.”

I looked over at him, and that in itself was a mistake, because it would be just my luck that the other carnival games with their bright flashing lights would surround him and make it seem like he was glowing. The lights soften his features, a small twinkle on the black orb of his earring and making those very so light freckles appear.

Almost like a painting hung up in a museum. You think the trip is boring, and for the most part it is. A few interesting things here and there but just as you are about to leave, you find a room you hadn’t explored. It could be nothing and you could leave, forgetting everything in the last three hours and moving on with your life.

Or it could be life changing. As if when you walked in there, the most captivating painting was on that wall and you wonder how you skipped it in the first place. You stare at it, taking in the picture itself and the meaning. Stepping closer and looking at the paint strokes, the time taken to make this is clear and it's full of questions and mystery. The small plaque on the wall fails to answer.

He picked up the last ring. It twirled in his fingertips unsure of where to go.

“I kept thinking, you know.” He said. “I remember watching a show, a random cartoon and an ad for a pride festival popped up. I thought nothing of it, didn’t know what it meant at the time but my father did. He was outraged and changed the channel, screamed and shouted saying that if his son ever was caught doing something like that…” Mitch paused and closed his palm.

I could see the hurt in his eyes as he sighed.

“Then he would have no son. So when I found out what it all meant and learned about myself....I thought it would be best to never act on it. No matter how much I wanted to look towards another guy, I couldn’t.”

“I’m sorry Mitch, I didn’t know.” And it was the truth. I wanted to mentally slap myself for not realizing that he was, in fact, gay as well. Way to go Mike, your gay-dar is broken. But then again, you can’t just tell a sexuality clear as day. I can’t blame him for hiding it, after everything with his dad.

He sighed again. “But when you told me that. Told me you wanted me, I think I started to realize that I would rather have something I want no matter what others think of me. I envy how you can just come out and be proud, as you should, but I wish I was that brave instead of a coward.”

“Mitch.” I slid my hand on top of his cautiously. He didn’t flinch or have any indication of pulling away. “I’m scared every day. Scared that someone might yell something offensive or even try to hurt me. Just like those assholes did earlier.But I can’t stop those things from happening but I can choose to not let them affect me. It's hard but you know you’re surrounded by people who care about you. Plus your best friend is an actual superhero.”

“I know, I’m sorry. You probably don’t want to date such a fuck up like me.”

Fuck up? Did this boy really think that?

“I would never see you as that.” I said honestly. “It's normal for us to have conflicting feelings when someone in our life isn't supportive. It's never gonna be a walk in the park or smooth sailing but when you're with someone who cares about you, it makes it easier.”

He sighed for the hundredth time. It was clear the gears in his mind were running at full steam and he looked at the ring in his hand then to the bottles.

“I guess you’re right Mike. I guess I was thrown off that the dude I've liked since kindergarten likes me back.” He looked towards me and tossed the ring, not bothering to pay attention. “I just hope you haven't changed you mind-”

The next thing I know, my hand is tugging on his worn leather collar and his lips are pressed to mine.

I never thought that my first kiss would be as enchanting as this. You always think it's magical and fulfilling but in reality it's probably a mess of lips that don’t move quite as well and somehow there's a tongue doing whatever it wants. I guess I can’t count this as my first kiss because Robin had peaked me on the lips in third grade, also giving me the clear sexual awakening of how I never want another woman to come near me again, but this was different.

He tasted like cotton candy which I should find gross and oddly weird but I didn’t mind one bit. At the beginning there was a bit of hesitation, or maybe he was caught off guard since I did interrupt him but I couldn’t help myself. Stupid hormones. He wasted no time kissing me back and I even felt a hand on my waist pulling towards him. Although it lasted only a few mere seconds, it was like a lifetime of waiting had lifted.

When we pulled apart, loud speakers and alarms went off above us. I looked towards the game, I noticed one single plastic ring was stuck on the bottle. The worker smiled at us before nodding.

“Wow, I can’t believe you made it, especially without looking.” She said and I looked to Mitch who just shrugged.

“What? You kissed me, I just threw it.” He smiled brightly and I hugged him.

“So what will it be?” I asked him and he turned towards the prizes.

“Well, what about that dinosaur?”

“I love dinosaurs.”

Mitch smiled. “I know.”

The worker used a ladder to climb and retrieve the massive blue dinosaur prize. As a kid, i used to dream of winning such a cool thing but know, I think I got something better. Mitch handed it to me with a blush and I looked at it with just as much pink on my cheeks.

“Ya know.” Mitch started. “I have enough tickets for one last ride. Maybe the ferris wheel?”

“That sounds good.” He reached out his hand and I took it. Before I could blink, I felt his lips press against my cheek.

“I don’t like to see you cry.” He said.

I simply hummed and we walked hand in hand to the ferris wheel before deciding to give the prize to some kids. He handed the tickets to the worker as we climbed into the cart and began to go up. He threw his arm over my shoulder like he did on the rollercoaster, but this time, I leaned against him and let those emotions I tried to keep at bay, run wild.

“I’m really glad Butch dragged me here.” I said honestly and Mitch only laughed and silenced me with his lips pressed against mine.

“Me too.”

When we pulled apart, a few questions still lingered in my mind.

“You mean, you’ve liked me this entire time? And you knew I was gay?” I asked hesitantly. It wasn’t a secret, the last part at least.

He scratched the back of his neck, a nervous tick he's had since he was little. “I mean I wasn’t hundred percent sure, I thought maybe it was a one time thing or just happened occasionally. But as we got older, more specifically high school, I think that's when it hit me.” He sighed. “All I knew was that I wanted to be with you until my heart stopped racing.”

His eyes met mine. I’ve always hated when people didn’t see the beauty in brown eyes. They think they are dull and lifeless, only one hue but that's far from the truth. Mitch’s eyes had spots of gold and a slight tint of green, breathtaking to say the least.

“I mean it’s a shame we spent our high school years just as friends.” My hand went on top of his. “But I’d rather have you as my friend instead of losing you so I understand. But what about your dad? Will be okay with us dating-or well I assume we should-”

“I don’t care about his opinion of us. Plus we would be idiots not to date at this point. If he doesn’t accept. That's his loss not mine.” His gaze went to the sky where a firework exploded.

The colors lit up in the sky and we realized we got lucky as our cart stopped at the very top. It felt unreal to be sitting next to my best friend and now, boyfriend. There's always moments in your life that you feel like were meant to be. Maybe it's the career you chose or the person you marry. Milestones that are already set in stone and fate just happens to bring you together, all that stuff. And as I looked at him through heavy lashes I thought that maybe, just maybe, the stars aligned on this one.

That or I would have to admit that Butch is the king of romance, even though he did literally nothing today and this was all me. Either way, Mikey boy’s got a man.

--

I hope you enjoyed love!!

[kashimos-hajime]

sing for the lion and lamb

Summary: “This was what she had signed up for - a good man and minimal pleasure.”

WARNINGS: spoilers as we get through it, swearing, backstory, struggles, this is one of the happiest chapters Pairing: Dectetive Loki x Reader Word Count: 3.7k

A/N: i’m a mess over prisoners and i wrote this super mess series called 1996. this is the first chapter. this is finished so i’ll be posting the other parts later but its movie+extra scenes bc theres so much stuff to get through and also reader and loki need to get through shit

... | 02 | 03 | 04 | 05

To say you love Loki would be a stretch. Two humans, born and raised in Pennsylvania who just happened to have known each other since the care system should have a natural tendency to gravitate towards each other. The two of you found each other again, so you are bound to have some sort of connection. But whilst you have a certain fondness for the man, a certain bond you are quite sure was deeper than blood, you wouldn’t name it love.

No, love is for those who didn’t know better. 

Love is not for the shadows of your eyes or the darkness in his soul. Love is not for men and women like you. 

“Detective.” 

Your eyes raise from the police report of the missing girls before you, blinking away the black boxes and messy scribbles as the man tilts his head at you. “You need something?”

The corner of his mouth twitch into something almost like a smile but your eyes only soak in the pale half-moons under his eyes. He’s sleeping again. Good. He needs all he could get before the case on the missing kids gets some steam. Rolling out your neck, you slide the report into a manila folder and stand.

“Wanted to know if you wanted to head home for a minute or two.” There comes his wide smile, one that completely morphs his face. It tugs at his cheeks, wrinkles his eyes, makes him look younger than he is. Whenever he smiles as he does now, it makes you forget about the paleness in his cheeks, the taste of coffee on his tongue, the rough stubble along his jaw. It makes him look young and handsome and like the street kid you’d known.

He knows you like that smile. Like looking at him. In bed, flushed and moaning, or otherwise. He knows it will convince you and you roll your eyes because this is not going to be a rare occasion where it’ll fail.

“Are you trying to sweet-talk me?” You stretch your arms high above your head, ignoring the way his smile drops off his face as you turn off the burning lamp on your desk. Only the pale lights of the office remains, washing the both of you in ugly pale light. 

“If you have room for dinner, maybe I will.” 

You grab your long coat, popping the collar around your cheeks and he pushes off the wall of your cubicle, walking around and stuffing his hands in his pockets. You sling your bag onto your shoulder and pull hair from underneath your collar.

“No plans for Thanksgiving?” you ask, knowing the answer. It’s only polite to ask. Detective Loki always has a pleasant way of surprising you outside the bedroom.

“None without you, I s’pose.” 

“And we’ve spent the day at work.” You don’t sound particularly surprised and the detective merely shrugs. “Come on, I know a place.”

He cocks his head to the door. It isn’t only the two of you in the station at this time of night but your caffeine-lacking brain rationalizes that they wouldn’t care and you lean up to kiss his jaw. He turns at the last moment and presses a hard kiss against your mouth, teeth snagging on your lips and you sigh into his mouth, tasting coffee and gum and the faint scent of his aftershave. Hands finding his jaw, your fingers scratch at his cheek, trail down his neck and take fistfuls of his jacket.

Your heart thrums in your throat, beats at your stomach like a drum and all you want to do is peel off the clothes burning your body, feeding the fire in your core as he noses your chin, granting himself access to your neck.

“Hey,” you whisper, hands carding through his hair. You aren’t quite sure if you want to push him away or pull him closer as he raises his head from where he’d been sucking a wet mark along the cord of your throat. “I’m hungry.”

“I know.” He ducks again to gently nip at the mark and you smack him lightly, pushing him away.

“You know I’m actually fucking hungry,” you mutter and he growls against your lips, kissing your mouth bruisingly and too, too quickly before he rips himself away. You hadn’t even realized he’d been sucking the life out of you while his hands had casually been in his pockets but he shrugs, the jacket shifting along his shoulders.

Cocky bastard. 

“Come on. Sooner we get dinner, sooner I get you,” he whispers against your ear and you chuckle into his mouth as he snags another kiss.

.

“Do you know what your, uh, Chinese zodiac sign is?”

You wipe at your mouth with a napkin, frowning when your lipstick smears over white. The detective looks up from where he was reading the meaning of each on the paper place mat, offering a smile. This restaurant is one of your favourites, having been the restaurant you went to after your… well, you wouldn’t call it a first date. You went here for a meal once, alone, ‘cause you were hungry after a night with the man sitting across from you. 

After-fucking meal. That’s the phrase. Apt, and conventional, and...

Point is, you like it here and you want him to like it.

He sips on his white mug, taking in the tea as you push around your fried rice. He’s working on some noodles as you drag a finger over the drawings of the Chinese zodiac on the paper.

“No. Do you?”

“Rat.” You watch as he turned to read, finger trailing until he finds the animal at the top of the list. 

“Intelligent, charming, quick-witted. Hm.” He arches an eyebrow and you roll your eyes as the waitress came with the check. It’s only the two of you in this small establishment and you look around, nothing the absence of fortune cookies in the red metallic bowl near the register.

“Happy Thanksgiving.”

“Thanks.” He raises his hand to gesture in a vague shape and you squint as the waitress poured your mug full of tea. “Hey, you have any of those, um, fortune cookie things?”

“My boss told me cops don’t like fortune cookies.”

“Well, it’s Thanksgiving,” you murmur and the waitress laughs under her breath. “What’s your Zodiac sign?”

“Monkey.”

You toss a glance expectantly at the man sitting across from you and he drops the bill he was reading, looking down at the paper.

“Very intelligent. You have an ability to influence people.” You hum thoughtfully at his answer as he continues, “Maybe you could influence your boss to lower the check a little bit?”

You snort quietly, hiding your laugh as you pull out your wallet. Picking up the slip of paper, you read the the total and begin to lay out bills to pay as the waitress shakes her head.

“Mr. Li is a rooster, Detective,” you comment, extending the check back to the waitress. 

“Thank you.”

“Keep the change.”

“How do you know that?” You don’t miss the edge of his tone as he takes another sip of his tea. Jealousy. You opt not to answer and his gaze drops to the paper. 

“What does the rooster mean?” Leaning on your hand, you watch as he reads out the description. 

“He’s selfish and eccentric.” His eyes raise to meet yours and his gaze carries a hint of mischief. “That’s—”

In unison, both your phones vibrate. David’s clatters against the table and you shove a hand into your bag, feeling for yours. Digging out the phone, you stand and gather your coat and bag as David grabs his own raincoat. The heels on your boots click hard against the tile in your haste to get from the restaurant to the car with as little rain contact as possible as David answers the phone, right at your heels.

Shielding yourself from the rain, you walk to the car and duck into the old thing, slamming the door shut. He slides in beside you, twisting the keys in the ignition and he hands you the radio on instinct. As the two of you pull out of the parking lot, you can’t help the warmth in your gut extinguishing. 

It is so easy to pretend, sometimes. To act as if you’re people you wish you could be. A bitter taste floods your mouth as you think about moments like the ones in the restaurant, ones where you felt so perfectly normal that it’s crazy to even think about the broken parts between you and the man beside you.

But then you’re dragged back into the real world. The real world of long nights, and bullet rain, and the fact that you and David are merely co-workers who live together because that is the only way you can survive having him in your life.  Any more than what he is now, the occasional hook-up, your partner in every case, it might as well break you.

It’s clockwork, working with him. Without rust or a knot in the system, you never feel like there is a task you cannot handle, a case you cannot crack. That ease, that bond, doesn’t come from something messy like what could’ve been. It comes from someone who knows your mind better than you. 

The thought terrifies you at night because you sure as hell think about what could’ve been more than you’d like to admit.

Shaking yourself of the person you were in the restaurant into the person you are, you roll down the window and let rain-slick wind slice into your cheeks. There is a plastic container of gummies on the dash and you reach for it, nerves biting at your fingers. Your other hand reaches for the radio as you respond.

“This is 13-40 and 13-41. We’re five minutes out. We’ll meet the responding units there.”

.

Your whole body drenched in sleet-cold rain, you feel your jaw twitch as David interrogates the man into the corner of the room. You can’t help the pity welling up inside you as you gently tease your hair through a proffered towel, and you can’t help the fire burning in your stomach, warming you from the inside out.

His tactic, getting up close and personal with the potential suspect, always has a way of messing with you.

Shaking it off, you ignore the thoughts that dog at you persistently — the images of him grabbing at Alex Jones and wrenching him to his feet — as you turn away. You squeeze your hair between the towel as you walk through the halls of the station, your heels echoing in the mostly-empty building. Linoleum reflects the artificial light as you reach the locker room, pushing open the door and throwing the damp towel into the dirty wash basket.

Shedding your long rain coat, you sigh and begin to unbutton your blouse. It sticks to your skin like wet paper as the air conditioning puffs goosebumps onto your chest and arms. You unzip your boots, tugging them off before peeling away your pants and examining the status of your socks. Your badge clatters against the wooden bench as you sit down in nothing but your bra and underwear. Your nose twitching, you stare down at your toes and inhale sharply. Rain is clogging up your sinuses, but your socks are dry.

Not soaked through, so boots held up. Good. 

The shower pelts against your skin, hot bullets that slam into your skull deliciously and chase whatever chill rain left on your skin as you hear the door open. Closing your eyes, you let the shower run over your face, focusing on the hissing stream over the clatter of boots you can hear.

It’s nearing 12 AM and you are sure everyone who doesn’t want to be here and don’t need to be here are gone. No one is here more than you and David. No one showers in here if they had a choice. So much for Thanksgiving. Should I be giving thanks that we might’ve caught the sick fucker already? Perhaps.

In your heart, somehow, you know it isn’t him.

Through the shuffling of fabric, you rake shampoo through your hair and begin to lather your body with soap, merely waiting until he shows up as steam begins to soak into your skin. A pair of pants drop to the tile, the clink of a belt against ceramic. Then, soft footsteps that brush against the shower tile and a shadow that blocks out the faint light. Taking a deep breath, you run your hand over your face and pull open the shower curtain. 

“Come here,” you murmur over the steam rolling out of your little shower stall. David steps in through the shaft of light that pours through to your little world before thrashing the curtain back into place. The stall dims remarkably as he leans down to kiss your forehead. You step back so he can stand under your stream of burning hot water and he blinks against the current.

Your forehead rests against his collarbone. His arms rise to run hands through his hair and he cards fingers through the dark strands as your hands encircle his waist. It’s darkly intimate, and all too familiar but you can’t help the addicting heat that he provides. Water runs down his chest and over your arms as you count the tattoos on his chest. One, two, three...

“Any leads?” Your voice is barely audible over the hiss of the shower.

“Aunt’s house.” He has a tattoo of a robin mid flight along his ribcage, and you trace the arc of its wing, palm flat against his heaving ribs. It’s one you know every stroke of, one you watched being carved into his chest. Your eyes close as a finger curls underneath your chin, lifting you to him. “Open your eyes.”

You do to see strands of hair falling into his eyes, his skin red against the blistering heat of the shower. Cupping his face with one hand, you use your fingers to delicately pull away the dark slick hair. His eyes bleeding midnight, his breath ghosts against your lips as his finger trails down your neck. His hand is warm against your throat and he makes sure that your eyes do not stray. As if an astronomer can look away from the phenomenon in the universe, a clash of asteroids, a dying star. He reaches into your mind, pulls you apart like a well-worn book, and reads your thoughts like a diary entry before he pulls out and his eyes fill with shards of glass.

“This isn’t like that,” he promises, insists, convinces you, and you nod because it’s the only thing you can do. Your heart splits in your chest, thrumming in your mouth and crushing your stomach all at once as his gentle grip on your neck firms. Your hands trail his waist, fingers dancing along tattoos that used to have meaning as you count the seconds you can stay standing. “We’re gonna find these girls.”

“Yeah. I know that.”

He sighs, eyes searching your face and you kiss him fully, softly. His lips taste of wind and rainwater.

The shower turns off and the two of you step out, drying each other’s legs and arms, face and hair as is routine when you shower together, and then you get dressed. He clips your badge to your belt, you slide the ring onto his pinky finger. He zips up your boots, you clip the necklace around his neck.

Clockwork.

You toss your hair up into a tight knot and hang your raincoat over your arm. Your gut twisted, you turn to your… something. He gives you a short nod, raking his hair back with rough fingers. You shed your old self, leave it in the shower to slip into the drain.

“Let’s go.”

.

Whilst David went for the Birches, you stop outside the Dovers, walking up the steps. The two of you had gotten no sleep last night after the visit to the aunt’s and forensics for the RV came back negative. Caffeine rules your system as you climb the steps and ring the doorbell.

A kid no older than sixteen or seventeen answers, all pale and terrified-looking. He looks like he hasn’t slept a wink either and you press your lips together. Although you empathize with the family, you can’t afford to become attached. You nudge your coat to flash your badge and the kid steps aside. Your fingers unclench from its tight fist as you enter the home.

“What’s your name, kid?”

“Ralph. Uh, my dad… I… I saw the RV first. Did my dad tell you guys that?” 

You pause, turning around to spot the kid closing the door. He looks like he’s seen death, and his eyes are wide-eyed and shine under the light through the windows. Poor kid.

“Yeah, I read the statement.”

“Okay, Dad wanted me to, uh, make sure,” the boy says and you follow him to where a blonde sits on the couch, tissues littered around her. “Mom?” The woman looks up as you stick out a hand for her to shake.

“Detective Y/L/N. My partner and I are heading the case for your missing daughter.”

“Yes, of course. Sit. Do you need anything to drink?” She begins to unfurl on the couch but you simply hold out a hand. The woman’s face is sallow and thin, and she looks almost as if she is phasing from another time to your present. You sit down on the couch. Her voice scratches and you wonder when the last time she ate was, the last time she showered or drank or slept.

“I’m fine, thank you. I’m just here to…” Your voice fades as your phone vibrates in your pocket and you dig it out, turning on the screen to see an email notification from David. Opening it up, you frown at the few attachments strung along.

Better photos of the other kid. Heading over to you now. -D

“So, did we pass?” As you watch the bar across the screen signify the speed of your download, you also begin to forward the photos to the Captain.

“Hm?” You are only half-listening. Your phone vibrates again and you open up the downloaded photos, letting out a soft sigh as round, dark brown eyes stare back at you on your tiny screen. What a fucking shame.

“The poly thing. The lie detector we took this morning.” Turning off your phone, you let it fall into your tight fist as you look at the mother. She stares at you as if you hold all the answers and you swallow a tight knot. “Did we pass?”

“Yeah. You’re fine. I don’t think anyone really suspected the two of you anyway,” you say, glancing at your phone again. “Thank you for your cooperation, though. You understand — the formalities we have to take. Precautions.” You tuck a slip of hair behind your ears and her eyes flicker to the movement, gaze following your fingers. You know what she is trying to do and you interlace your fingers, hiding the permanent ink needled into your skin along your knuckles.

“Yes, of course. It’s just… it’s embarrassing. I don’t know. All this fuss — people are just going to think we’re crazy when they show up here, perfectly fine or… I don’t know.” The woman’s arms crossed tight against her chest, she doesn’t even look at you anymore. Your eyes dart to her knuckles to find them stark white, her fingers digging into the flesh of her bicep.

“Do you have any reason to believe they might’ve run away?” The words come out tough as rubber in your mouth. The woman’s eyes close and you sigh, already regretting your words. You know in your gut that that isn’t the case.

“No,” she breathes, “no. They’re happy. They… the must have run away.” A silly child’s game. The woman nods along to her own words as she tries to convince herself. Your heart crumbles to ash in your chest as you force on a smile. “I think they must have run away, right?”

“Of course, Mrs. Dover. But we’ll find them,” you assure, setting a hand gently on her knee. She seems to quiver under your palm as she swallows and looks at you with bleak, earthwet eyes.

“Your police captain told me about the two of you. Um, he said that you and your partner—” You suck in a quiet breath, already knowing what her next words are going to be. You don’t like it, the pressure, the want to keep a record pristine, but your reputation has always preceded you in cases like these. Cases where you just wanted to find the grave and be done with it when your very thought should be finding a warm body, not a cold one— “he told me that the two of you have solved every case you’ve ever been assigned. Is that right?”

Your nails dig into the flesh of your palms as you look away. You don’t want to give this woman hope, even if she needs it. It’s stupid, you realize, to stare at the reflection of yourself when you have already smashed every mirror.

Your nose twitches.

The doorbell rings. The kid, Ralph, goes to get it again as you look up at the woman. She’s beginning to break down, hiding her face in her hands as she mumbles out apologies.

“I’m sorry. I am so sorry,” she whispers through her tears as the door opens. You can see the shadow of him on the walls before he comes in and you shake your head minutely as soon as your gazes meet. Nothing here. “Do you… do you have children, detective?” 

You bite your lip until you taste blood.

“We’re gonna find your daughter.” Mrs. Dover looks up jerkily, flinching at the man’s voice. Closing your eyes, you hang your head as your partner walks deeper into the room. Everything feels like it’s been scooped out of you, replaced with nothing but sick and acid.

You can’t listen to promises you aren’t quite sure you can keep anymore.

[lets-talk-appella]

Don’t Touch Her

Bechloe Week Day Three - Drunk Texting

Summary: Getting drunk texts from Chloe is nothing new for Beca. However, when the messages become a little alarming, Beca races into action. Potentially triggering interaction in a bar, though very brief.

Word Count: 3.5 k

AO3 and FFN

Beca reclined on the fold out bed she shared with her best friend, casually scrolling through Instagram on her phone. She ‘liked’ a picture of Aubrey and Stacie together, as well as one of Emily celebrating the end of her semester. Her thumb hesitated over a picture of Jesse with his new dog, unsure whether they’d become good enough friends since their mutual breakup for her to ‘like’ his photos. After debating for a moment, she decided that the dog was cute and hit the button.

After another few minutes of mindless scrolling, Beca set down her phone with a sigh, locking the screen. She looked dejectedly around the small apartment she shared with Chloe and Amy, hoping something interesting would catch her eye. Nothing did.

She glanced hopefully to her right, wondering what Amy was doing, only to see the Australian sprawled out on her back, clearly fast asleep, her mouth hanging open. Beca sighed again. She liked a quiet night in every now and then, sure, but this was a little ridiculous.

It was kind of embarrassing, actually, how bored she was without Chloe there. She wasn’t sure when it had happened, but somehow, she’d started to rely on having Chloe around in the evenings to hang out with. The apartment without her in it seemed smaller and dingier.

Beca missed her best friend more than she cared to admit. Chloe not being with her felt wrong.

She knew she was being dramatic. Chloe had only gone out bar hopping for the evening, so it wasn’t like she was on some major trip across the country. Beca was only put out about it because it had been a spontaneous decision of Chloe’s to “re-live her crazy glory days” and Beca hadn’t been able to make plans of her own.

Chloe had invited her along, of course, but Beca had declined. It was a Thursday night, and she had to work the next day. Besides, she found bars less appealing after her last experience, which had involved far too much tequila and far too little time to make it to a toilet before she’d hurled her guts out on the middle of a dance floor. So, Chloe had gone out alone.

Beca was broken from the unpleasant, tequila-filled memory by a short buzz from her phone. She snatched it up immediately, smiling when she saw a text notification from Chloe. She unlocked her phone, already guessing what the message would be.

Heeyyy Becs another move, at the plus now love you lots be good

Beca rolled her eyes affectionately. Chloe always told her when she was changing bars so that Beca knew where she was. She’d already gotten three similar texts and figured this would be the last one; The Plus was Chloe’s favorite bar and was only three blocks away from their apartment, so she’d probably head home after she finished there. Beca pushed on the text and typed her response.

Thanks dude, be safe.

Chloe replied a few seconds later, always quick to respond to Beca.

youre so nice beca alwyas you care abt me

Beca stifled her laugh. She could tell that Chloe, typically good with grammar and spelling, must be more than slightly tipsy. She typed out a reply.

Of course I care. Almost done?

Chloe got back to her nearly instantly.

Almost i'm pretty gone had 3 shots and 2 mojito already

Beca frowned slightly. Chloe could handle her alcohol, but that was kind of a lot even for her. Bars tend to make their mixed drinks strong, so the mojitos were especially concerning. Still frowning, Beca sent a quick response.

Maybe it’s time to slow down?

She had to wait a little longer for Chloe’s reply, the unusual delay making her wonder if she’d offended Chloe with her suggestion. But then, her phone buzzed in her hand once, twice, three times, until she had a string of messages from Chloe.

bec theres a really nice guy

hes bying shots for evryn

no just me

this guy is buying drinks

hes so nice

I like shots

Beca read through the messages quickly, her worry increasing with each one. Chloe was entering scary drunk territory, and some random guy was encouraging it. Beca closed her eyes, berating herself for not going out with Chloe. It had been dumb to let her go to drink alone. It wasn’t that she didn’t trust Chloe; she didn’t trust this mystery guy.

She opened her eyes, needing to respond to Chloe to gauge how drunk she really was. Though, even as Beca frantically typed into her phone, she already had a good idea of where Chloe was at based on the look of her messages.

Chlo, drink some water for a bit. What’s this guy’s name?

She hit send, only to receive even more messages from her best friend.

he ask about you

well asked why im alone

told him my beca is at home

he got me another drink

Beca jumped off the bed, her heart racing. She didn’t like the questions this guy was apparently asking. It had gone on long enough. Chloe needed to come home.

She paced around the apartment, half wanting to wake Amy to ask what she thought. With slightly shaking fingers, she typed out a message to Chloe.

Come home, please. I’m worried.

As soon as it sent, another text from Chloe appeared. Beca groaned; she knew Chloe hadn’t read her last message. She devoured the texts from Chloe as they appeared.

im tired

feel fnny

he keeeps tuching me

he want my phone

Beca’s blood turned to ice. The air rushed from her lungs as if she’d been punched in the stomach. No. What had that guy done? Put something in one of Chloe’s many drinks?

Even before her brain had time to fully register the wave of panic rising in her throat, Beca spun to the front door, nearly tripping over a pair of Chloe’s boots on the floor as she grabbed a jacket and her keys. She shoved her feet into her shoes, only bothering to tie them because she knew she’d be running. She flew out of the apartment, the door slamming behind her (sorry Amy), pounding her thumb onto the call icon next to Chloe’s name in her phone. She launched herself down the stairs of their apartment building at breakneck speed as the ringtone sounded in her hear.

“Pick up, pick up, pick up,” she chanted as she ran. The phone rang and rang until her call was sent abruptly to voicemail. She slipped at the sound of Chloe’s recorded request to leave a message and tumbled down the last few stairs, sliding to land painfully on her butt. With barely a thought to her own injuries, she forced herself up impatiently and pressed the call icon again, plowing through the exit door to arrive on the street.

She turned in the direction of The Plus bar and started running, drawing more than a few stares from passersby. She knew she might be overreacting, but Chloe was her best friend. Chloe was the most important person in her life.

Chloe wasn’t answering her phone. Beca swore and tried again, not intending to give up anytime soon. She was panting, feet pounding against the pavement, choking on her breath and on her fear. Absurdly, she felt like she was in one of the many action movies Jesse had talked her into watching while they’d dated.

Chloe still didn’t answer her phone.

But it didn’t matter because Beca could see the sign for the bar. She stopped trying to call Chloe and instead snatched her ID from its pocket on her phone case, sprinting up to the bouncer at the door and thrusting the ID into his hands.

“Woah, there, in a hurry?” the bouncer asked, shining his light on her ID before reaching to hand it back.

“What does it look like?” she snapped, ripping her card from his outstretched hand and shoving past him into the bar.

It was fairly crowded inside for a Thursday, sweaty bodies writhing around, most holding some sort of liquid in the bar’s plastic cups. Despite the number of people present, Beca’s eyes immediately zeroed in on the red hair she spotted at the bar, knowing in her heart that it was Chloe. She had always been able to find Chloe in a crowd, as if some invisible thread existed between them, pulling them together.

She made a beeline toward Chloe, eyes on the guy standing much too close to her. Beca shoved through the crowd, most of them parting automatically when they saw her to seek cover from her rage. When she got closer, she could see the large number of empty glasses in front of Chloe. She also saw the guy’s hand on Chloe’s back. He had her phone, too, moved away from her and set facedown next to his own drink farther along the bar.

Beca’s stomach tightened, her blood boiling. That’s why Chloe hadn’t been answering: she couldn’t.

She was on them in an instant. She grabbed his wrist and flung his hand away from Chloe, barreling in between them and forcing him back several steps. She only took a moment to glance at Chloe, all wide and confused blue eyes, before she turned on the guy who’d been way too close to her best friend.

“Get away from her!” Beca yelled right in his stupid, surprised face. He was older than them, and bigger, with dark hair and small eyes.

“Bec?” Chloe’s voice, slurred and confused, almost made her turn around, but she knew she couldn’t let the man out of her sight.

He sneered at her, leaning in to say in a nasally voice, “Go fuck yourself, we were having a good time.”

Beca snarled at him and snatched Chloe’s phone from the bar, shoving it into a pocket, her own phone in her other. “That involved making sure she couldn’t call for help?”

She felt familiar hands rest on her back, clutching at her jacket. Beca reached back her right hand without taking her eyes from the man, calming slightly when Chloe’s fingers laced with hers.

“Listen, bitch,” the man said, ��Ginger here is going to come with me, and you’re going to leave and forget you saw anything.”

Beca’s mouth filled with bile and her fingers tightened on Chloe’s. He wouldn’t take her. Not over her dead body.

“Yeah, that’s not happening,” she spit back. “She and I leave together.” She raised her voice so that Chloe could hear her and said, “Chloe, we’re going home.”

Chloe clung tighter to her, mumbling inaudibly and Beca felt her stand unsteadily from her stool.

“I don’t think so,” the man growled. He reached around Beca, trying to grab Chloe again.

Beca saw red.

“Don’t touch her!” she shouted, swinging her left hand up in a fist. Her punch connected solidly with the side of his face, jerking his head back and making him stumble away from them. Chloe screamed, drawing the attention of everyone around them.

Chaos erupted in Beca’s mind, her only goal to get Chloe out safely. Chloe’s hand was still in hers so she whipped around to support Chloe, leading her rapidly to the exit. She heard the man calling obscenities after them, but he didn’t follow. Beca risked a glance over her shoulder to see that several other guys, including the bartender, were holding him back, preventing him from getting to them.

Beca fought a path through the crowd, never losing contact with Chloe. She stumbled once, her foot having caught on someone else’s, but Chloe supported her surprisingly well and they made their way to the exit. For a moment, she thought she was going to have to punch the bouncer, too, to get through; he stood, blocking her way, only to move aside at the last second to let them pass. Once they made it out of the bar, he moved back in place and she understood – he was making sure they weren’t followed.

She fully intended to race home but was dragged to a halt after only a couple of feet by the hand holding hers. Shocked, she turned, wondering if Chloe had forgotten something. But Chloe released her hand to teeter alarmingly to the side of the building, leaned forward, and was sick against it. Beca was there instantly, holding her hair back, grimly relieved. If that creep had put anything in her drink, it was gone now.

She waited for Chloe to finish, finally registering the throbbing in her left hand. She internally berated herself for not punching the man somewhere softer, but it had still done the trick. It had gotten him away from her best friend. Fury rose in Beca, and she was tempted to run back inside the bar to hit the man again, as many times as possible.

However, reason kicked in and she forgot her rage when Chloe, wiping her mouth, straightened up to look at her. She was shaking, whether from adrenaline or from being sick Beca wasn’t sure. Without hesitation, Beca slipped off her jacket and put it around Chloe, trying to comfort her.

“Hey, it’s okay, it’s over,” Beca soothed, her hands sliding up and down Chloe’s arms bracingly.

Chloe blinked at her, attempting to clear some of the alcohol haze from her mind. “You found me,” she said, looking at Beca like she’d put the stars in the sky.

“Of course,” Beca replied softly. “I’ll always find you. I’ll always be there.”

Chloe nodded jerkily. Beca hated how pale she looked, how shaky she still felt under her touch. Her anger spiked again, but this time at herself for not accompanying Chloe and for not checking on her immediately after leaving the bar.

“Thanks, Bec,” mumbled Chloe. “’M really drunk.”

Beca couldn’t stop the small, crooked smile that formed at Chloe’s words. “I know,” she said. “That’s okay. I’m here. Let’s go home?”

Chloe nodded and Beca turned away, only to feel Chloe’s hand land on her arm and pull. She knew what Chloe wanted and opened her arms, enveloping Chloe in a hug. She smelled like alcohol and sweat, but Beca squeezed her tight, thankful that the bar was in running distance from their apartment. She didn’t know what she’d have done if she’d lost Chloe.

The hug went on for a while, until Chloe was the first to move away. She looked better, more herself, and Beca knew it was time to go. The man had to come out of the bar eventually.

“Come on,” she said gently, pulling on Chloe’s hand and lacing their fingers together. Chloe smiled down happily at their entwined hands, making butterflies burst in Beca’s stomach. They walked like that all the way to their apartment, Beca making sure Chloe didn’t trip over anything on the way.

Chloe handled the stairs surprisingly well, only stumbling once. Beca’s tailbone ached at the memory of her own tumble, but she didn’t care. All that mattered was that she’d gotten to Chloe.

The door flew open the instant they reached the landing, Amy’s wide eyes greeting them.

“Thank God!” she exclaimed. “I was worried! And I’ve already opened the door like that for two other people, because I thought they were you coming up the steps. Aca-awkward.”

Chloe laughed weakly and Beca’s heart relaxed at the sound. She was going to be okay.  

Moving into the apartment and locking the door behind them, Beca explained, “Yeah, there was a little emergency. We’re okay now, though.”

“Mmm, Beca punched a creeper,” Chloe slurred, still far from sober but looking better with every passing minute.

Amy raised her eyebrows and nodded once. “Good on you, I hate a dumb creeper.”

“They’re the worst!” Chloe exclaimed, throwing her hands into the air in exasperation. “But Beca saved me. I love Beca,” she sighed, making Beca’s stomach somersault.

Amy looked at Beca delightedly and opened her mouth, clearly about to make a comment.

“Don’t,” Beca cut her off. “She’s drunk.”

“Oookayyy,” Amy drew out, wiggling her eyebrows excessively.

Beca rolled her eyes and nudged Chloe to the kitchen. “Water, bathroom, then to bed with you, drunko,” she instructed, giving Chloe a little push toward the fridge.

“Okay, okay,” Chloe huffed, blinking a lot. “You know, Beca, if you’d just come out with me in the first place, this wouldn’t have happened.”

Beca winced at the truth in the statement, internally vowing to never let it happen again. Then, she frowned.

“Wait, was this just a ploy to get me to go to bars with you in the future?”

Chloe only giggled as she attempted to pour water into a glass, nearly spilling it everywhere. Beca immediately moved to help her, taking the pitcher from her hands. From behind, she heard Amy make a whip cracking noise and rolled her eyes.

Chloe drank deeply from her water, finishing it before she set it down with a wink at Beca.

“I’m gonna shower, you wanna join?” she asked, swaying slightly.

Ignoring the heat that rose to her face, Beca firmly said, “No, and you are not going to shower. You’d slip and fall and die. You’re going to brush your teeth then go to bed, yeah?”

Chloe jutted out her lower lip into a pout but nodded and made her way to the bathroom, drawing the shower curtain closed behind her.

Beca plopped down at the kitchen table with a groan and covered her eyes. It had been a long night. She heard Amy walk to the fridge and open the freezer, rummaging around before closing it. A chair was pulled out from beside Beca, and she looked up to see Amy settle down in it, offering her a bag of frozen peas wrapped in a towel.

“For your hand,” Amy said in response to Beca’s questioning look. “If I know you, it was a left hook to that asshole’s face.”

Beca took the peas with a tight smile and pressed it against her hand, soothing the ache instantly.

“And if I know Chloe, I’ll bet that tonight was a lot scarier than she’s making it out to be,” Amy continued quietly, unusually serious.

Beca nodded and sighed. “Yeah, I was freaking out. It was bad. He kept touching her and he’d taken her phone.”

Amy frowned at that, tapping her fingers on the table. “I’m surprised she didn’t punch him herself. She must have been completely smashed.”

Beca’s lips tightened, her voice strained as she replied, “She was. If I hadn’t gone over…” she couldn’t bring herself to finish the sentence. Nausea rolled her stomach and she had to close her eyes until it passed.

“Hey,” Amy’s hand on her arm brought her back to the present and she reopened her eyes. “Don’t think about that. You went, you saw, you punched, and now you’re both safe. That’s what matters.”

With a deep breath, Beca nodded. Amy was right. They were okay.

“So…” Amy added after a moment in an even quieter tone, not looking at Beca. “When are you going to tell her?”

Beca blanched, guessing what Amy meant but not wanting to address it. “Tell her what?”

Amy merely smiled and said, “You know what.”

Beca stared at her, trying to keep her expression neutral. She knew by the widening of Amy’s smile that her poker face was failing. Thankfully, she was saved from responding further by Chloe’s emergence from the bathroom.

“All ready for bed!” Chloe said excitedly, moving toward the fold out. Beca jumped up from the table like she’d been electrocuted, dropping the peas and launching herself into the bathroom to complete her own nightly routine. She couldn’t handle any more serious talks with Amy.

By the time she’d finished, Amy was in her own bed, already asleep, and Chloe was curled up in their shared bed. Beca’s bedside lamp had been left on for her. Tenderness erupting in her chest at the sight, Beca quickly changed into her oversized sleep shirt and a pair of shorts and slipped under the covers next to her best friend, flicking off the light and plunging them into darkness.

As soon as she was settled, Chloe wiggled backward against her until Beca turned to hold her from behind, her arm drawing Chloe into her protectively.

“’Night, Bec,” Chloe mumbled sleepily.

“’Night, Chlo,” she replied softly, resisting the urge to press a kiss to Chloe’s shoulder.

Chloe was asleep within seconds, her breathing steady and even. Beca lay in the darkness, her eyes open and her mind racing. She’d been absolutely terrified earlier, afraid she was going to lose Chloe. She couldn’t get the image of the man’s hand on Chloe’s back out of her mind. Beca’s heart clenched; she knew Amy was right. She was in love with Chloe.

She’d have to tell her soon.

Beca’s heart pounded with nerves and her mind whirled.

She wouldn’t be sleeping much overnight.

[gulescamisade]

Minnesota:  Day 5

JADE: -slides open Jake's window.-

JADE: where did you get the device from jake?

JAKE: -snorts after having been dozing, motioning his hand quickly as if drawing out a pistol. But there is no pistol and he is blinking awake. Good thing brain ghost is gone.- Wuhor- -FOCUSES and frowns.-

JAKE: What device??

JADE: BARK

JADE: you know what i am talking about

JAKE: -yipes... But no. He puffs himself up, scrambling to his feet. Mustache scrunching up defiantly- Well quite frankly if youre so curious.

JAKE: I pulled it out of my ass!!!!!

JADE: you mean you believe i would have just left one in any of your available crevices?

JADE: because frankly thats silly even for you

JAKE: Well... you look silly! Parading about and barking at people. Youre the batterwitches lap dog and you friggin KNOW shes having a real laugh about it too!!!

JAKE: She doesnt care about you OR the things you might be left to care about jade! Shes just using you for your steadfast strengths. BECAUSE SHES TOO WEAK A CHARACTER TO HAVE THEM HERSELF!

JAKE: But youre not like that. Youve never been like that once jade. :(

JAKE: You know i will still love you no matter what you do right? Youre still family to me?

JADE: ...

JADE: thats very sweet jake, and also very misguided

JADE: i like who i am now

JADE: i could never say that before

JAKE: Well even so...

JAKE: You dont need some stupid fish to tell you how strong you are. When its always been true from the start.

JAKE: Plain and simple you dont need her.

JAKE: You can do whatever you want and no one would be able to stop you! HELL.

JAKE: Thats why youre here in the first place isnt it?

JAKE: -sniffs.- At least if you chose to be evil on your own accord youd have a more creative agenda.

JAKE: All that damn witch cares for is the OPPRESSION OF THE MASSES and making a quick buck. Bleh. Some villainess huh? Starching up your good name.(edited)

JADE: theres no point in fight—

JADE: fighting it

JADE: i understand that now and i know whats best

JAKE: -fixes her with watery puppy dog eyes.- Thats alright jade thats all why im here. To fight it for you.

JAKE: Despite it being stupid and then doubly stupid to do so. Its what im best at.

JAKE: Ill take it so you dont have to sweet pea. I really do love you.

JADE: ....

JADE: grrrrRRRR!!

JADE: RRRRRRRR!!!!! -Deep growling, and she's starting to spark again.-

JADE: BARK!!!

JADE: -she reaches up, hands like claws grasping at the sides of her head before she shakes it, wildly.-

JAKE: - ;___; he's gotta. He's gotta reach for her.-

JADE: NO!!!!!!

JADE: jake... -She looks pained for a moment -- just for a moment, before her face twists in an angry scowl.-

JADE: BARK!!!! -There's another flash of green that engulfs them both, and then they're somewhere else, in a room that looks far more metallic than the previous cell, lights glowing dimly overhead.-

JADE: clearly i cant keep you like the rest of the prisoners

JADE: besides

JADE: she wants to know how to unlock that potential of yours

JADE: im sure shell be interested to know what youve done

JADE: take care jake -ZAPS AWAY.-

JAKE: ?????????? -totally disorientated as they're zapped away. And he's left.- Jade! Please!

JAKE: Dont leave me alone!!!!!!!

[But no one came.]

JAKE: -huddles into the corner of this new cell. Ashen and terrified.-

JAKE: -panicked eyes search the edges of the cell and he's crawling along the edges. Any doors? Vents? Windows?-

[It looks like there's a door, but this one doesn't even have a window. There's a little bit of ventilation, but not in a space one could fit into. There's a single bed and a little medical tray table, though.]

JAKE: -Oh lordy. This is bad. He tests the bed with one hand, eyeing the medical tray table. Is there anything on there? He could possibly make something out of this if he's given enough time to stew over it.-

[Only empty space. There might have been some sort of patient or experiment in here at one point, but not anymore.]

JAKE: -He hopes this was evidence of a miracle. But probably not.-

JAKE: -inspecting the bed for MIND CONTROLLING MECHANICS. Or anything similar. He's watched movies.-

JAKE: -And for that matter, he'd like to get a hold of small metallic parts too. He'll tear up the table if he has to.-

[He does find a selfie of Condy under the mattress, matted with glitter.]

JAKE: -Darnnit... Now he has the glitter all over his front. BLEH.-

JAKE: -stares intently at this selfie of Condy. Committing it to memory.-

JAKE: -flips it it over, is it signed or something?-

[It's got a glittery lipstick mark on it in pure tyrian. Also, it reads "bitch u thot"]

JAKE: -It would be kind of funny if he wasn't terrified. Was this really his grandma's step mom? The rascally old batterwitch...-

JAKE: -Thinking she could take everything she wanted and have it not matter? If she was so big a bitch, Jake would take her on right now and PROVE it!!! He remembers what Brain Ghost Dirk said before. He CAN do something.-

JAKE: -blood boiling with the picture in his hands, he wills the lights above him to SURGE and then short out. He'll show them ALL a thing or two.-

JAKE: -It's so dark he can close his eyes and almost imagine himself being back on Hell Murder. Up to his fucking knees in pumpkin patch. This was a test, Jake English. How far can you push it? How many people were counting on it? Besides yourself, he decides. Himself?-

JAKE: -He visualizes it, testing. This small grain of belief that he can do this. And inexplicably as the belief solidifies in his mind, real actual pumpkin vines start growing from the walls of his cell. 1 pumpkin. That's all he needs. It's so silly and nonsensical but it can't actually be hard can it?? SO MAKE IT HAPPEN, DAMN YOU.-

JAKE: -With Jake's concentration, the pumpkin vines flourish until they cover the whole floor of his cell. Sweat drenching up his brow.-

[Someone, somewhere is watching all this... And she's impressed.]

JAKE: -Remember why you're here! He folds up the picture and puts it into the pocket of his shirt. Determined.-

JAKE: -And then wills about 10 pumpkins to grow in his cell. Hff. He did it.-