#this is based on the fact i ask my roommate if ill like something before trying it and she always just knows | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

romantichopelessly · 4 years ago

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Talking to the Moon

This fic is somehow my favorite thing that I’ve ever written. It started out as a Halloween fic, and then I wanted it to be my longest one shot and aimed for 8k. Now it is so much longer and so much more and I really really hope that you guys like it.

Words: 15,400+

AO3

Summary: Logan is a man of routine. Routines are sensible. It's perfectly sensible that his routine revolves around his roommate. Virgil. Even though his roommate doesn't know that he's a vampire. Even though his roommate doesn't know that he is in love with him. (Or: Virgil and Logan are vampires. And neither of them know about the other. And they were roommates.)

Pairings: Analogical, Background Roceit and Intruality

Warnings: Blood, blood drinking mentions, kidnapping, non-graphic violence

----

Bright fall leaves littered the cracked sidewalk as Logan made his way home from work. The satisfying crunch of them underneath his loafers was something that he would never admit to enjoying as much as he did. Past the buildings lining the city street, a soft orange hue was beginning to light up the dark sky, encapsulating what most would see as the perfect morning.

Logan glanced down at his watch. 6:53 A.M. He picked up his pace. The stop at the early morning coffee shop had been on an ill-advised whim, and though the warmth that the cup of earl gray tea radiated into the chilled skin of his palm was welcome, Logan did not want to end up regretting the indulgence by arriving at his apartment after sunrise.

An early morning breeze stirred Logan’s scarf and nipped at his nose with a bite that would cause most to shudder and hunch back into their coat. Logan, however, maintained perfect posture, completely unaffected by the temperature as he rounded the corner of the block with purpose, the door to the apartment complex that he lived in now in sight.

Long fingers fished in his pocket for a moment before hooking through his keyring. The black fuzzy keychain that his roommate had gifted him weeks ago brushed against his palm as he climbed the concrete steps and pushed open the door with force, anticipating the way that it stuck, just as it had every morning for the past year and a half.

Logan stepped inside, an unvocalized sigh of relief smothered in his chest. Behind him, the door fell shut, locking out the cold breeze and rising sun.

Logan picked his way across the lobby, keys still in hand. He paused for a moment at the mailboxes, glancing over boxes 221A and 221B. Nothing new. He hummed softly to himself and continued up to his apartment.

His keys turned with a satisfying click in the lock and Logan finally let himself breathe, a habit of relief more than a need.

A deep inhale. In through the nose. Out through the mouth.

Was that tomato soup that he smelled?

Thirst burned at the back of Logan’s throat. He swallowed it down as he toed off his shoes and deposited his keys in the bowl by the front door, the jingle alerting anyone listening to his whereabouts.

“L?”

Which, of course, was exactly what Logan wanted. A completely artificial warmth bloomed in Logan’s chest.

“Virgil.” Logan called back, an inexplicable smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. Padding down the hallway, Logan rounded the corner to the community room to see his roommate curled up on the far corner of the couch--a position that Logan had found Virgil in more times than he could possibly count.

Though he supposed that he would have had to count them had he been asked.

“Hey.” Virgil’s voice was as gruff as it always was. His legs were curled beneath him, cushioning his laptop on his lap, and his hands were curled around a mug of something deep red. Likely the soup that Logan had smelled when he entered. It reminded Logan of the cup of tea that he was still holding. He turned and headed for the connected kitchen for his add-ins before he could drink it. “How was work?” Virgil called after him.

“Satisfactory.” Logan replied, depositing the paper cup containing his earl gray on the counter before opening the fridge. “There were not many visitors at the planetarium tonight. Just the couples.” Logan wrapped his fingers around the jam jar that he was searching for. He pulled the top off of the to-go cup with one hand and rooted around in a drawer for a spoon with the other. He shoveled two or three (most definitely three) spoonfuls of the red gelled substance into his tea and stirred it quickly before closing the cup and jar both, putting the jar back in their shared refrigerator and finally turning to fully face his roommate.

“That’s good.” Virgil watched him with pensive eyes, eyes that made Logan’s mind do funny things, like imagine that Virgil’s look was a bit more fond than it really was. Logan crossed the room again and sat on the middle cushion of the couch, taking a slow sip of his tea. Virgil immediately stretched out his legs and nestled them underneath Logan’s thighs.

“What about you? How was your day?” Logan asked, politely.

Virgil shrugged with a single shoulder. “Same old, same old. Do a bit of work, read a ton of emails, get bored and listen to music and stare at the ceiling on the company dime.”

“You are self employed, Virgil.” Logan felt the need to point out.

Virgil shrugged again, this time with a coy smile on his face. “What can I say? I’m a tough boss. Sometimes you just have to stick it to the man. And by the man, I mean me. And by you, I also mean me.”

Logan watched, emotions that he could not name despite all of his years welling in his chest as Virgil leaned forward and took a long sip from his mug of soup. To suppress the sudden insatiable urge to say something stupid like ‘you look like a dream, sitting on this musty old couch with tomato soup on your upper lip’, Logan took a long sip of his own drink, hiding his wry smile at Virgil’s antics.

Despite the emotions rolling and bubbling within Logan, the silence that followed was not uncomfortable. Rather, the quiet felt full in a way. Virgil’s feet wiggled underneath Logan’s thigh, searching for a warmth that Logan wished he could provide more of. Virgil let out a quiet sigh as he leaned back against the corner of the couch that he was nestled into. Logan let the coppery twinged tea in his throat warm him for a moment, as the stresses of the day rolled off of his shoulders and evaporated, as they were wont to do when Virgil was around.

“Want to watch some Cosmos?”

Logan perked up, a slight smile on his lips. Not so wide that he would show his fangs, which had, of course, descended due to his thirst, but a small quirk of the lips that never could be pulled back in Virgil’s presence. “I’d love nothing more.”

----

P&J’s Coffee Shop was never truly busy. It was a nice coffee shop, to be sure. Virgil’s favorite, in fact. Where else in the world could he get a perfectly brewed O negative espresso?

Of course, the secret menu being absolutely sublime had nothing to do with the reception of the café, as most of the daytime customers would be appalled by the contents of the midnight drinks. Which was quite a shame for the general public, but the lack of popularity was quite the plus in Virgil’s book, especially on nights like this, when he came to the café specifically to whine to his two best friends.

“Patton isn’t going to let me give you another espresso if you finish that one too soon. I’m already on their list for allowing you four shots in the first place.” Janus was leaning against the back counter, decidedly not restocking the refrigerator like Patton had asked him to.

Virgil grumbled in response, taking another long swig of his drink out of spite.

Janus rolled his two-toned eyes. “You’re a piece of work, Noir.”

On the very rare occasions that Virgil left his apartment, P&J’s was usually his destination. The small, soft gothic inspired coffee shop fit his aesthetic perfectly. P&J’s was one of the few creature-of-the-night-friendly spots in the city that wasn’t completely overrun. This lesser-known energy was exactly what kept it from being a target of hunters as well, which was quite the blessing, even though there were less and less incidences of slayings being reported as time went on.

And while Virgil was glad to be living in such a progressive time, he still was not about to put a target on his back by heading out to the more popular vampire and werewolf bars, clubs, restaurants and coffee shops around town.

“Shut up, Janus. I’m your best customer and you know it.” Virgil paused, thinking. A sly grin formed on his face. “Except for that fae you’re always talking about, of course. But I know that you’re biased towards him.”

Were Janus a vampire, Virgil was positive that he would have hissed at that moment. As it was, Virgil could tell that Janus was just suppressing a growl. “Untrue. Shut up and drink your coffee, I no longer wish to speak with you.” Janus sniffed, turning his nose up at Virgil’s words. Despite the dramatics of the gesture, Janus somehow managed to look poised. He always did.

In Virgil’s--albeit limited--experience, it was very difficult for a werewolf to look so poised all of the time. However, Janus constantly defied those expectations. Even the three long scars that crossed the otherwise blemishless medium brown skin on the left side of his face and his left, caramel colored eye didn’t stop Janus from looking aloof at all times. Even on days like this, working in the café, with his long, dark and curly hair twisted into a loose knot at the base of his neck and a pastel yellow work apron on, Janus could make anything look as sophisticated as if he were about to attend a grand ball, and honestly, Virgil was a bit jealous.

Logan would probably be into Virgil if he took his appearance more seriously.

Janus was watching Virgil with a knowing look now, and the vampire scowled back.

“You know, Virgil.” Virgil hissed, pulling his cup closer to his chest defensively. He knew that tone. “I wouldn’t really be throwing around accusations like that. Glass houses, and all.”

Virgil’s shoulders rose up to his ears. An onlooker would say that he looked remarkably similar to an angry black cat. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Oh you don’t? Must be hard being so old-”

“I’m 38.”

“Let me jog your memory.”

“Physically I’m only 24.”

“Cobwebs in your head aside,” Janus plowed on, “Logan Doyle? Your current roommate who you’ve been obnoxiously pining for for the past few months? The one that you come into my café to bemoan about at least once a week? You know, the studious, oblivious, wonderful, handsome-”

“Okay! I get it!” Virgil snapped, interrupting Janus’s infuriatingly accurate imitation of his voice. “All things unholy, why do I never come in when Pat is on the clock?”

Janus shrugged, a shit eating grin on his face that almost made Virgil want to take his drink and leave. Almost. “It likely has something to do with the fact that you only come out here during Doyle’s working hours. Suspiciously sentimental, wanting to spend every moment you can with your roommate, don’t you think?”

Virgil bristled. “Stop saying stuff like that, Janus.” He knew that the barista was joking. Hell, Janus had teased Virgil about this exact subject far too many times. He really should not be so touchy about it. It was very likely that the only reason that Janus’s ribbing was rubbing him the wrong way today was the events of the night--dawn?--previous.

Logan had looked so… fetching coming home that particular early morning. The soft wool of his sweater vest looked almost irresistibly touchable. The contented look on his face as he took slow sips from his tea. The way the corners of his eyes crinkled slightly as he fought away laughter at Virgil’s not-actually-that-funny quips while they watched Cosmos.

“Ugh, are you reminiscing? Didn’t you see him less than an hour ago?” Virgil curled in on himself, glaring up at Janus’s feigned disgusted look. “Keep that out of my coffee shop.”

Virgil was about to retort when a light, melodic voice piped up from the front door. “Your coffee shop? Well darn! You should have told me that you were taking over, Jan! I wouldn’t have come in.”

Virgil turned on his stool to look at Patton, who was smiling widely, unabashedly showing their fangs for all the world to see. Behind him, Virgil could hear Janus’s amused snort.

Patton Darling was an older vampire than Virgil was, though by all other standards they were still rather young at 49. They looked younger than Virgil, and although their physical appearances only differed by three years, Virgil couldn’t help but feel like he paled in comparison to Patton. Patton had that ethereal beauty about them that all vampires were supposed to have, but on them it looked effortless and… simply put, right. Their smooth, deep brown skin and sapphire blue eyes glowed in an inhuman sort of way that could enchant any mortal, and most immortals that Patton happened to meet. This week, their hair was a pastel purple. The previous week it had been a sunflower yellow. It was like Patton wanted to call attention to themself, something that Virgil and most other vampires avoided.

Between them and Janus, Virgil wasn’t sure who was more mysteriously stunning. Had Logan been in the room, the sheer amount of beauty in the café probably would have knocked him unconscious.

“Hey, Pat.” Virgil couldn’t help but smile back at the older vampire.

“Hi, Virgil! How are you today?” Patton pat Virgil’s shoulder genially as they slipped past him to get behind the counter with Janus.

“He’s pining again.” Janus answered before Virgil could. “Also he snuck four shots of espresso when I wasn’t looking.”

Virgil glared at Janus with a renewed vigor as Patton gasped. “Virgil! You know that that isn’t good for you!” Janus nodded from behind Patton, a smug grin on his face.

“I don’t really digest it.” Virgil pointed out. He certainly was not pouting under Patton’s stern gaze.

“Hmph.” Patton looked dissatisfied with that answer, but they didn’t push it, thankfully. “Well, what did Logan do this time?”

Then again, maybe Virgil would rather they continued to chew him out for his coffee choices.

“He just-” Virgil sighed. If he had a beating heart or blood running through his veins, Virgil just knew that he would have been blushing by now. “You know.” He gestured helplessly.

“Existed in your presence?” Janus quipped.

“Exactly!”

Patton hummed sympathetically. Virgil knew that they could relate to hopeless crushes. For all the time that Virgil had known them, they had been in love with some man or another. “I’m sorry, kiddo.”

Virgil grumbled. “I look older than you.”

Patton paid no attention, but dropped the pet name. “You should really just tell him. Be honest about your feelings! What’s the worst that could happen?”

Janus and Virgil glanced at one another before leveling Patton with their best ‘are-you-actually-serious’ look.

“So many things.” Virgil could almost name them by heart by now. He had run them over in his mind so many times. “For one, he doesn’t even know that I’m a vampire. I’d have to drop that bombshell on him, and you know that he’d just be scared off. At least now I have him as a friend.”

Suddenly, Janus had turned his dubious stare away from Patton, and Virgil had both of his friends staring at him with matching looks of… amusement? Surprise? Sympathy? Virgil couldn’t tell, but he very much felt like Janus was not on his side in this conversation any longer.

“Are you kidding?” Janus’s voice held a note of high pitched incredulity that only confused Virgil further. Janus turned to Patton, unhidden laughter in his tone now. “Is he kidding? Does he not know-”

From the way that the werewolf winced, Virgil got the distinct impression that Patton had just stomped on his foot. Bewildered, Virgil turned to Patton. “Know what? Pat, what is he talking about?”

Janus looked like he was about to break into a laughing fit. “You-”

“Shh!” Patton nudged Janus, sending him a very severe pointed look. They turned back to Virgil, who felt extremely lost. “It’s nothing, V. He’s just being stupid.”

“Hey!”

“What Janus means to say is that you can’t be sure how he’ll react. You really should tell him, Virgil.” Their eyes were kind, but Virgil could not shake the distinct feeling that he was being made fun of.

Knowing that he would definitely not be following that advice, and that Janus was about two seconds away from laughing in his face for some reason, Virgil pushed away from the coffee bar and stood up, clutching his O negative espresso.

“Yeah, alright. Look, I’ve got to be going.” He gestured lamely over his shoulder.

“Oh! Okay, Virgil. Well, good night!” Patton waved as Virgil backed away from the bar towards the door. Janus looked like he was in a lot of pain. Probably because Patton was standing on his foot. “Sucks to see you go!”

Virgil turned and dashed out of the store. As the door to the café swung shut behind him, he could hear Janus break into a deafening cackle.

Weird.

----

The view of the night sky from the planetarium never ceased to amaze Logan.

Despite the fact that he had worked at the planetarium as a lecturer for approximately two years now, the sight from the observation deck would always be a sight to behold. Logan had spent many, many years under the same stars, and he had never once beheld anything as beautiful as them.

Well, perhaps there were one or two things that rivaled starshine from the heavens.

Like his roommate’s crooked smile. Or his alluring violet eyes, and how they lit up with a fond twinkle that Logan used to think could never be aimed at him. Virgil’s laugh also rivaled the constellations that Logan knew by heart--the way it dipped and fell, how it was low and gravely sometimes, stirring something deep in Logan’s stomach.

Even now, Logan was staring up at the sky--his one true love for over a century and a half--Logan found himself wishing that he were at home, sitting with Virgil on the couch, watching a sitcom.

Logan was startled out of his musings by the clearing of a throat.

Blinking, Logan tore his eyes away from the open sky. A man--a customer--stood before Logan. The first thing that Logan noticed were the sunglasses that the man was wearing. They were perched on top of his curly black hair, almost unnoticeable in the dark of the planetarium. Why on earth would anyone be wearing sunglasses in the middle of the night? Judging by the rest of the man’s outfit, a black leather jacket, a nondescript gray t-shirt and ripped jeans, Logan presumed that it was simply part of this man’s aesthetic.

Virgil would probably have approved. Or called him a try-hard. It was hard to predict Virgil’s opinions.

“Yes, sir?” Logan finally got around to responding, his polite customer service voice on.

The man smiled charmingly. It was quite unlike Virgil’s unsure smile, which often left Logan feeling as though he were the only one in the world who got to see it. This man looked like he handed out smiles to any and everyone.

There was something… familiar about him. It nagged on the back of Logan’s mind.

“I was wondering when the next lecture was.” It wasn’t a question. It was a statement of a question. Again, Logan explained it away. Many customers were entitled and downright rude to him. This certainly was not out of the norm, or even noteworthy.

Logan glanced at his watch, as if he didn’t know the planetarium’s schedule by heart. It was nearly 5:30 A.M. “I’m sorry, sir.” Logan answered as he looked back up. The man was a bit closer than he had been before. Logan took a step back. “We are actually about to close for a couple of hours before morning tours of the museum can begin.”

That was another odd thing. Not many customers stayed around the planetarium as morning was arriving. Logan usually had the last hour or so of his shift free of customers on weekdays.

“Bummer.” The man did not sound too put out by this information. “I was really looking forward to hearing your lecture, Mr. Doyle.”

Logan felt distinctly uncomfortable now. He knew, logically, that the man could know his name for any number of reasons. It was all over the pamphlets set out around the room. It was on the badge stuck to Logan’s turtleneck. However, the way that the man said it…

“It is Doctor, but thank you.” Logan said, stiffly. “If you return another night, I’m sure that you can make it to a show.” Logan very much did not want this man to return another night.

“Do you work any day shifts?”

Logan hadn’t seen the man move, but he was closer once again. Logan took another step back, hoping that his distancing himself was not too obvious. “Sadly, no. I am here most nights, however. There are schedules on our free pamphlets.” He wished that there were not schedules on their free pamphlets.

The man was just opening his mouth to speak again when the doors to the planetarium burst open, and a young man in a pale pink sweater tumbled through.

“Came in early, Doc! Couldn’t get much sleep last night, so I thought I’d come in a few hours early and let you go! I can do the cleaning before my shift starts, and you can get home to- Oh. Hello.”

Logan held back a sigh of relief. It helped greatly that he did not need to breathe. “Hello, Dr. Picani. I was just telling this customer-”

“Nate. Nate Miller.” The man, Nate, had looked very disgruntled to be interrupted, Logan had not failed to notice. Now, however, he was smiling charmingly once again as he crossed the couple of steps between Logan and the door to shake Dr. Emile Picani’s hand.

“Nice to meet ’cha!” Emile exclaimed, sending a slightly confused look over Nate’s shoulder to Logan. Logan shook his head. No. He did not know this man. Emile, the saint that he was, stepped in gracefully, making up for his clumsiness at the door before. “Well, I can answer any questions that you have now! My friend, Logan, here is going to be going home early. You can stick around while I clean up before we close for a bit.”

Nate looked very much disgruntled with this turn of events, but Logan did not give him a chance to respond, grabbing his messenger bag as quickly as a human possibly could.

Nodding his thanks to Emile, Logan tried to maintain a neutral stature and pace as he left the planetarium, scanning out at the buzzer by the door and grabbing his keys.

He felt eyes on him all the way out.

----

When Virgil got back from P&J’s it was only 4 A.M.

Which meant that he had about three hours before Logan got back from work.

Was it odd for one to measure time by their roommate’s whereabouts? Virgil wasn’t quite sure. To be fair, he had never had a roommate that he was so attached to. Logan was… special.

Virgil shook that thought away. Logan wasn’t even home yet, and all Virgil could seem to think about was him. It was Janus and Patton’s fault. What they had said was sitting in the back of his mind and making him think all kinds of crazy things.

Like that he should possibly… maybe consider telling Logan his feelings.

Virgil bit the inside of his cheek harshly, shoving that thought as far away as he possibly could. No. Not an option. Logan was just a human who was unluckily living with a vampire. Virgil could never ruin his life like that.

Determined to distract himself, Virgil placed his phone face up on the kitchen counter and turned on some music.

Usually, around the apartment, Virgil would only listen to his music with his headphones on. Music was a very personal thing. Not to mention that blasting music that other people may not like was too much of a risk for is anxiety ridden self.

However, tonight--that morning?--Virgil needed to blast the traitorous thoughts out of his mind, and he didn’t feel like dealing with the headache that would surely come with wearing headphones on full blast. So, Virgil queued up his favorite distraction playlist of early 2000s punk songs and played it for all the empty kitchen to hear.

For the next hour or so, Virgil bobbed his head along to bands that reminded him of when he was still alive and worked on his computer. Being a web developer and consultant had its perks, the greatest among them being the lack of strict hours and the absence of human interaction.

Just after half past five, Virgil was bored. Not that his job was particularly thrilling most nights, but what Janus had said earlier was still bothering him.

What had the werewolf been insinuating? He had acted like he knew something that Virgil didn’t. And Patton hadn’t exactly proved Virgil’s suspicions wrong. In fact, they had seemed just as amused by whatever secret Janus was keeping from Virgil.

It was infuriating. His two best friends, and he couldn’t for the undead life of him figure out their angle.

Why did they want Virgil to out himself as a vampire to Logan? If it were just Patton, Virgil would simply assume that they wanted him to be happy, but Janus… Janus knew a bit more about what could happen if their secrets were outed. And yet he had still acted like Virgil keeping his blood drinking habits a secret from Logan was some sort of joke.

Virgil groaned, burying his head in his hands and pushing his computer aside.

Looked like he was going to get that headache whether he liked it or not.

Just as he was lamenting his choices in friends, the song changed and Virgil reached for his phone without thinking. With only a few taps on the screen, Virgil closed out of his current playlist and pulled up one that he had clocked many an hour listening to in the early hours of dawn, shut up in his room, curled up on his bed and hugging a pillow.

It was simply titled “Logan” with a blue heart emoji.

He never had been very creative.

Before he could think about the ramifications of his decision, Virgil had pressed the shuffle button and set his phone back down.

“Now that she’s back in the atmosphere

With drops of Jupiter in her hair

She acts like summer and walks like rain

Reminds me that there’s a time to change”

Virgil closed his eyes and let the music wash over him. It was silly. It was really, really, really silly, and Virgil knew for a fact that if Janus were here to see what Virgil was doing, Virgil would probably die for the second time.

That knowledge didn’t stop him from getting up and sliding slowly around his own dark kitchen in his socks, though.

For a good couple of songs, Virgil danced alone in the kitchen. Not really danced, just sort of swayed in place and slid around, but that didn’t matter. All the while, he thought of Logan. His roommate who wore hideously outdated, probably thrifted, sweater vests like they were the height of fashion. His roommate who watched bad documentaries with him and ate terribly sugary jelly right from the jar in the fridge. His roommate who still used that ugly black fluffy keychain that Virgil had given him as a joke weeks ago.

Maybe he should tell Logan. About his feelings or about his nature, he wasn’t quite sure. He hadn’t decided when a pair of smooth, comfortably chilled hands slipped into his and a soft voice spoke.

“Can’t say I’ve ever come home to this before.”

Virgil’s eyes flew open. He had been so deep in his own mind that he hadn’t even heard the door unlock. For the tiniest of moments, he tensed, all too aware of the type of music that was currently pouring from his phone, but he quickly relaxed.

Logan tended to have that effect on him.

Maybe he should have been more wary of that. He wasn’t.

“You’re home early.” He responded, trying to hide his burning embarrassment. It was quickly overshadowed by the sudden, all too visceral knowledge that Logan had placed one of his hands on Virgil’s waist and was now leading the two of them in a real dance.

In the middle of their dark kitchen, illuminated only by the light of the refrigerator clock and the glow from Virgil’s abandoned laptop, while the jazzy notes of Fly Me to the Moon played in the background.

He could die again happy.

Logan was nodding. “Yes. My coworker, Emile, showed up early and let me take the hour off. Something about being unable to sleep. I probably should have been more worried for him.”

Virgil couldn’t stop his lips from quirking up in a small smile. He didn’t even try to. “Lucky me. And- I mean, lucky you, of course. An hour off. That must be nice.”

Logan hummed. “It’s turning out to be, yes.”

The two of them turned slowly as the song faded out. Logan didn’t let go, so Virgil didn’t either. Feeling uncharacteristically brave, or perhaps just a bit too comfortable, Virgil leaned forward and rested his head on Logan’s shoulder.

His turtleneck was soft against Virgil’s cheek.

“I know you're somewhere out there

Somewhere far away

I want you back, I want you back

My neighbors think I'm crazy

But they don't understand

You're all I have, you're all I have

At night, when the stars light up my room

I sit by myself

Talking to the moon

Trying to get to you

In hopes you're on the other side, talking to me too

Or am I a fool, who sits alone, talking to the moon?”

They were silent as the music played. They swayed slowly. Logan led them in circles effortlessly. Distantly, Virgil wondered whether Logan had some professional training on his front. At one point, during the chorus of their second song, Logan pushed Virgil back slightly. Just as he was about to apologize for taking liberties and invading Logan’s space, though, Logan lifted their joined hands.

Virgil spun underneath, an incredulous laugh floating easily from his chest.

His fangs flashed in the laptop’s glow just as he was facing away from his roommate.

Logan caught Virgil back in his arms easily, pulling him back to their original position and rubbing his thumb along Virgil’s waist in a way that gave him goosebumps.

It dawned on Virgil as the sun dawned on the city streets.

He was desperately, irrevocably in love with Logan Doyle.

----

“I’m in love with him.”

Remus choked on his thai food, noodles still half out of his mouth. “What the fuck?”

“I am in love with him.” Logan repeated. “What did you think that I said?”

Remus spat out his noodles in a frankly disgusting display that Logan was sadly used to. “No! I heard you, I’m just flabbergasted!”

“Nice word.” Logan commented.

“You’re in- I can’t even say it! You sound like Roman! I knew that you had the hots for Virgey, but in love-” Remus fake retched.

Logan bristled, but before he could make a sarcastic remark about how much less disgusting his feelings were than Remus’s… everything, Roman stepped out from the back room.

“You know that I can hear you, right?”

Roman rounded the counter, his knee length skirt swaying against his legs. Roman and Remus were starkly different. Where Roman wore flowy, soft and stylish clothing, Remus was all hard lines and punk outfits. However, both had plenty of tattoos. Roman’s right arm was nearly covered with brightly colored tattoos that looked like a watercolor project. Remus had a similar, monochrome sleeve on his left arm.

Roman and Remus were co-owners of the tattoo parlor known as King’s Inks, named for their own last names. Logan never came in for an actual tattoo, they weren’t really his style, but the brothers were always welcoming to him. It wasn’t hard, even when living in a big city, for the creatures unknown to most humans to find one another. People like Logan… and people like Roman they stuck together. No matter if they both enjoyed tattoos or not.

Roman King and Remus King looked like normal, human twins to most. Other than Roman’s slightly pointed ears, of course. If someone was not in the know about fae or changelings, then they may just assume that it was just a part of Roman’s unique style.

“I don’t care! Lolo’s lost his mind!”

Logan scoffed. “I assure you, my mind is very much intact and in my head, thank you. Do not insert me into your arguments with your sibling.”

“Please, Rem.” Roman rolled his eyes, completely ignoring Logan, as if the conversation were not completely about him and his emotions. “Stop acting like you’re so disgusted by displays of emotion, already.”

“Acting? Bold of you to assume that I can act. You’re the acting one. Your entire existence is based on acting like me.”

Roman huffed, dramatically. “As if you weren’t waxing poetic about Patton last Thursday! Logan remembers! Don’t you, Logan?”

“I was under the impression that we were talking about me this week.”

Roman waved his hand dismissively. “He means he remembers. So cut the bull, Remus.”

Remus rolled his eyes, but did not defend himself. His mouth was full of thai food again anyway.

Roman glared at his brother for just a second longer before returning his attention to Logan. Instantly, his expression was brighter, almost giddy. “In love?! Finally you got around to admitting it! What happened? Did something happen? Was it cute?”

“We danced.” Logan answered, simply. He had long surpassed any feelings of embarrassment around the King twins.

Roman squealed. Quite literally, squealed. Logan winced and leaned away. Remus fake retched again.

“You’re not going to just say that and not tell us everything, are you?” Roman hopped up to sit on the counter across from where Logan and Remus were sitting at the small table in the waiting room.

And so Logan did. Not because Roman King was particularly good at convincing, but because, not so secretly, Logan really had just come to the tattoo shop to tell his friends everything. That was what these weekly meetings were for, after all. It wasn’t official, or anything, but it had become expected for Logan to turn up at the tattoo parlor every Thursday to chat with Roman and Remus about all manners of things.

Most particularly, their individual romantic endeavors.

As Logan recounted the events of the previous night, Roman looked more and more excited. Usually, Logan would be frightened by such a level of sheer giddy enjoyment on the fae’s face, but today Logan could feel nothing less than happy. Content.

He still didn’t really know where his own courage had come from the night before. What exactly had possessed him upon entering their apartment to find Virgil swaying alone in the kitchen to music? Why had he suddenly acquired the romantic prowess it took to lead his roommate in an impromptu dance around the linoleum floor? Was it simply love?

Did it really matter?

Apparently not, according to the twins. Even Remus looked begrudgingly moved at the end of Logan’s tale.

“So when are you going to tell him?” The human twin asked.

“What do you mean?” Logan asked, confused. He had only just discovered these feelings, why on earth did Remus believe that he should instantly confess them? Honestly, Logan was much more comfortable enjoying this discovery in private, thank you very much.

“You should tell him!” Roman nearly shouted. “Don’t tell me that you’re just… not going to.”

“That was the plan, yes.”

“Wh- Men.” Roman exclaimed, falling back dramatically to lay across the bar that he was still sitting on.

Logan huffed. “This has nothing to do with my gender, Roman.” He wasn’t really offended by the comment, of course, he was just deflecting. Roman himself was genderfluid and was quite liberal with his comments about men, whether he was using he/him pronouns at the moment or not. “I just do not plan on telling Virgil about this right now. I see no reason to.”

“The reason is that you can be happy, Logan.”

Logan blinked, turning to face Remus. The moustached twin looked shockingly somber. Serious. It was like spotting a unicorn, seeing Remus like this. “I-”

“Logan, just listen and don’t talk for once.” Logan desperately wanted to point out that coming from Remus, such a statement was frankly laughable, but he bit his tongue. “You’ve been alive for nearly two centuries.” Logan barely held back a wince at the reminder of his age. Remus continued, completely carelessly. “And how many times have you really, and I mean really let yourself fall in love and stick with it?”

Logan could feel a lump of shame forming in his throat. He swallowed around it.

Roman picked up this time. His voice was much more soothing than his brother’s, but no less stern. “You’re always working, Logan. You’re always going, and we get it. You’ve been stuck at twenty-six years old for over a hundred and fifty years. You keep moving because the world keeps moving around you.” There was something sad in Roman’s golden-green eyes for a split second, but it was quickly masked. “You have to take a chance every once in a while. You should tell Virgil about your feelings. You know that you would be saying the same thing were it either of us.”

Remus continued. “Listen to your besties for once, Logan. You’ve been coming in here and going on and on about Virgil for weeks. Months. I don’t even know, it’s been so long. But the point is that you need to tell him. It’s been long enough, even Roman is tired of it. Not to mention, I’d bet my ass he feels the same.”

There was a moment of silence. Those were few and far between in King’s Inks.

Remus broke it after a few seconds, as though continuing his thought from earlier. “And you desperately need to get laid.”

Logan wrinkled his nose, distastefully. “Honestly, Remus, can you resist being vile for longer than ten minutes?”

Remus grinned, proudly digging back into his thai food. “Nope! It’s what I’m here for.” There was a momentary pause. “No, literally. It’s why the fair folk brought me back after switching me with Ro.”

Roman rolled his eyes. “It is not. Stop talking bad about yourself, or I’m going across the street and telling Patton.”

Logan may have been mistaken, or too caught up in his own issues, but for a moment there, it looked as though Remus’s cheeks were brushed with a light shade of pink.

As the brother’s began to bicker, Logan pulled back into his own thoughts. Perhaps… Should he tell Virgil? Despite the raging swarm of butterflies that attacked the pit of Logan’s stomach at the very thought, he had to admit that letting his emotions out in the open would feel a lot better than continuing living with Virgil for however much longer, pretending that he felt nothing more than friendship for him. It was already agony just in his mind’s eye.

There were so many possible downsides, though. Logically, Logan knew that Virgil would not become angry if Logan were to confess. It was highly unlikely that Virgil would cut off all contact with Logan or kick him out of the apartment, either. In fact, after the previous night’s display…

Logan, holding Virgil against his chest as though he were something precious--because he was, of course--the two of them twirling around their tiny kitchen, as though they were the only two people in the world. Soft music playing from Virgil’s phone, the perfect songs for them luckily playing back to back, as if hand picked. Logan had had the lyrics swirling in his mind on repeat ever since. It had been… magical. Lovely. Wonderful. Everything that Logan had never known he needed.

And it was well worth the risk of mortification that he could forget in fifty years if Logan had even the slightest of chances to hold onto Virgil like that again.

“I’m going to do it.” Logan’s voice rang out, perfectly clear, over the twins’ quickly heating argument.

Roman gasped. “Really? I didn’t think we would be able to talk you into it!”

“You didn’t. I simply decided that it was a low risk, high reward situation. Statistically, I have more to lose by not attempting to tell Virgil my… discovery than I do by telling him.”

“Cut the bull, nerd.” Remus was grinning again, in a way that would have appeared almost… menacing, were Logan not so used to Remus’s odd expressions. “We all know that you did not actually calculate the statistical risk of telling Virgil you’re in-” Remus caught up to his own words and dramatically retched again, as though the very word he was about to say was an allergen.

“In love,” Roman finished for his brother, “I can’t believe you’re going to do it! Oh- You should get some flowers for him from the shop down the street! The warlock who owns it is always so perceptive about what to get for which occasion. Oh, this will be so romantic-”

Logan cleared his throat. “You do know that if- when I tell Virgil, you will not be in attendance, correct?”

Roman waved a hand dismissively. “Details.”

Remus stood and stretched, his back cracking loudly. “Alright, well if you two are about to plan the most boring pre-fuck in the world, I’m going down to the café. You two want anything?”

The vampire and the fae both shook their hands, and Remus left the tattoo parlor, the bell above the door jingling jovially over the quick chatter from Roman as the door swung shut behind him.

----

Virgil couldn’t focus on his work.

To be fair, Virgil had never been good at focusing on his job. When he wasn’t actually consulting, Virgil was a developer. Which meant that he essentially made his own schedule. Which also meant that he had no accountability for any sort of timeline.

It became especially hard when Virgil’s mind was completely occupied by Logan Doyle.

Virgil, lately, had spent quite a bit of every day thinking about Logan. But after the night before… Virgil couldn’t stop thinking about him. Every time he closed his eyes, he was there again, in the middle of the kitchen, breathing in Logan’s vanilla scented cologne. Every time he paused between keystrokes, the notes from the music that had played that night floated through his mind.

It was unbearably distracting.

Patton had texted Virgil at about 1 A.M., asking whether he would be at the café that night. At first, Virgil had considered sending back a snarky text telling them that he would not be returning to P&J’s until Janus stopped being a little shit and avoiding telling him what his little laughing fit during his last visit had been about.

Instead, however, out of his own gracious nature, Virgil held back his sarcasm.

It certainly had nothing to do with the fact that he had spent the past 20 hours feeling as though his chest were full of bubbles, imagining Logan’s hand on his waist.

Virgil: not tonight. I’ve got work to do.

What happened? Patton texted back immediately.

Virgil cursed his friend’s intuition.

Virgil: nothing! I just don’t feel like coffee.

Pat: And you do feel like work?

Virgil: no, I feel like being at home.

There was a pause. Virgil watched as a bubble indicating that Patton was typing appeared and disappeared about three times in quick succession.

Pat: Hold on. I’m moving this to the group chat.

Virgil cursed. If Janus got wind of what was happening, Virgil would never hear the end of it. Janus could sniff out Virgil’s emotional turmoil like no one else. No pun intended.

Before he could respond and tell them to not tell Janus under any circumstances, Patton had sent a text in the trio’s group chat.

Pat: What’s going on, Virgil?

Janus: Something’s up with Virgil?

Virgil: no. I just said I wasn’t coming in today.

Janus: Why not?

Virgil: I have work to do!

Pat: We’re just worried about you, honey.

Virgil groaned, but didn’t correct the pet name. Even though he didn’t like being coddled, sometimes the affection Patton put into their words wasn’t so bad. It certainly wasn’t a decision ruled by Virgil’s current good mood.

Virgil: I just wanted to stay home today. I’m fine.

Janus: That means you’re either mid depression spiral or-

Virgil softened a bit. His friends really did get him. It wouldn’t have been the first time that Virgil had fallen into a spiral since he met the two, and Janus and Patton were sadly well acquainted with Virgil’s moods. He knew that if he really were in the middle of an episode that Patton and Janus wouldn’t hesitate to close the coffee shop for the night and come keep him company.

Pat: Are you? V?

Virgil shook his head and texted back quickly.

Virgil: I’m not. Really.

Janus: Oh fuck.

Pat: ???

Janus: Are you in bed with Logan right now?

Pat: !!!

Virgil: NO.

Janus: Are you about to be?

Pat: !!!!!!!!!!!

Virgil: no.

Janus: What happened, then?

Virgil: none of your business. I just answered Pat’s text. I do not deserve to be interrogated.

Janus: This is not an interrogation. It is a series of educated guesses and negations.

Virgil: I plead the fifth, then.

Janus: Not an interrogation. You have no rights.

Virgil: didn’t you drop out of law school?

Janus: After my girlfriend nearly killed me, actually.

Pat: Boys, let’s not fight. Are you sure you’re alright, Virgil?

Virgil: yeah, I promise.

Oddly enough, Virgil was considering expanding on what was actually going on--Patton tended to have that effect on him. They were amazingly good at pulling Virgil’s deepest thoughts from him. Something about their trust and gentle concern was surprisingly convincing. Just as he was about to respond, there was a knock at the door.

Virgil instantly tensed. It was only 1 in the morning. Even on Logan’s off nights, like Virgil knew tonight was, Logan never got home before 2 or 3.

And even when he was early or late, Logan had his own key. Of course he did. With that stupid fluffy black keychain that Virgil had clipped onto his key ring weeks ago.

Had something happened?

Virgil glanced back down at his phone and sent a quick dismissal text to his two friends.

Virgil: I’ll see you guys later. Gotta go.

Janus: Chicken.

Pat: Alright! Have a good night, Virgil!

Virgil couldn’t stop the way his lips quirked up at the texts. He was still looking down at his phone as he took his first few steps towards the apartment door. There was another, slightly less polite sounding knock on the door.

“Coming!” Virgil called, clicking his phone off and sliding it into the pocket of his hoodie.

The light from the hallway outside cast a shadow that Virgil could see in the crack underneath the door. Whoever was on the other side was standing rather close to the door. Virgil couldn’t quite shake the sense that there was something off. He tried not to focus on it too much. He was in a good mood. Whoever the hell it was knocking on his door at one in the morning was probably just at the wrong door.

Any other night, Virgil would have been more cautious.

Any other night, when Virgil was in any other mood than completely besotted, Virgil may not have answered the knock at all.

As it was, Virgil opened the apartment door with little to no hesitation.

On the other side, standing in the dimly lit hallway stood a man with a nest of curly black hair and a form-fitting leather jacket, a pair of sunglasses hanging from the neck of his plain black t-shirt. If Virgil didn’t feel the hairs on the back of his neck standing up with some sort of instinctual unease, he may have thought that the man in front of him was handsome.

“Can I help you?” Anxiety seeped into Virgil’s tone. He looked the man up and down. The large boots. The perfectly straight posture. The tense shoulders. He suddenly wished very much that he had not opened the door.

The man smiled. There was something distinctly menacing about it. “Is Logan here?”

Virgil’s stomach twisted. He knew, suddenly, that he should not, under any circumstances, tell this man where Logan was. He felt his fangs poking at his lower lip, descending involuntarily. “Who are you?” His voice was gruffer than intended. The question was polite enough, but Virgil’s tone was nearly a hiss.

“I’m Nate Miller.” The man put a hand on the outside of the door. He didn’t push it open any wider than Virgil held it, but Virgil got the distinct impression that he would if Virgil made any sort of move to shut the door in his face.

“And you’re Virgil Noir, aren’t you?”

----

The warlock from the flower shop suggested that Logan go with a traditional bouquet of a dozen red roses.

Logan, however, while a traditional man of 182 years old, wanted something a bit more creative.

Roman had hovered over his shoulder for the entire exchange, offering his two cents with each choice that Logan attempted to make. His helpfulness was suffocating, but Logan didn’t let it deter him.

By the time that they were done, Logan had a beautiful, and rather pricey, bouquet picked out.

It was beautiful. It was wholly unnecessary, of course, but Logan didn’t mind getting caught up in Roman’s dramatics from time to time too much.

Virgil deserved as much.

The walk back to the apartment passed by Logan in a blur of cracked sidewalk and brisk air.

Logan had made this walk plenty of times before, but that time it felt… different. The air was full of promise, and though he was hesitant to admit it, even to himself, a sort of… hope that Logan hadn’t felt in a long, long time.

It was a breath of fresh air. Possibility.

Probability, if Logan allowed himself to make a couple of more hopeful assumptions based on that look in Virgil’s eyes the night before.

It wasn’t until he got to the door of the apartment complex that any sort of anxiety started to catch up with him. Seeing Virgil usually brought a calm over Logan. Coming back to the apartment to see his roommate was in itself like unwinding after a long day. Virgil had an uncanny ability of loosening every ward that Logan set up around himself.

But as Logan ascended the stairs--the elevator would definitely take too long right then, especially since Logan had noticed that it was descending right as he walked into the building--he took note of the fluttering sensation in the pit of his stomach.

The bats taking nest in his gut quickly fell into a pit as Logan saw the door to their apartment.

The open door to their apartment.

The bouquet fell from Logan’s hands, tumbling to the carpeted floor of the hallway.

Logan was at the door in less than a second, much faster than any human could move.

The bolt on the door was scratched, as if it had been forced open. If Logan’s heart hadn’t already stopped beating, this would have put a halt to it. He pushed the door open lightly, slowly, as though the seconds that it took to do so would stop this from happening--stop what he was seeing from being true.

Carefully, residual training from his years of being a detective when he was alive kicking in, Logan picked his way into the room so as not to disturb what was inside.

The apartment, for the most part, was exactly as he had left it. Further in, Logan could see that the living room was undisturbed.

Whatever had happened hadn’t made it past the entryway.

The entryway itself was a mess. The corkboard that Logan had hung up on the wall was crooked, the miscellaneous take-out menus and schedules were either barely hanging on by their push pins or scattered across the floor. The umbrella stand was knocked completely to the ground, as was the dish that usually held their keys. It was laying on the wood floor, shattered. Virgil’s keys underneath.

The knot in Logan’s throat that had nothing to do with thirst tightened. Finally, emotion overtook care. “Virgil?!” Logan called out into the empty apartment. His voice echoed off of the walls.

Dashing forward, past the wreckage of their entryway, Logan entered the living room. He glanced around quickly, desperately, but it was empty. “Virgil?!” He turned on his heel. So was the kitchen. Fast as he possibly could, Logan was at the door to Virgil’s bedroom, throwing it open and finding it silent and desolate. Desperate, Logan shot to the door to his own bedroom and flung it open, only to find the same thing.

Shaking, Logan was back at the kitchen in a blink. Virgil’s laptop was sitting, untouched on the counter. Just as he was about to give up, something caught the corner of Logan’s eye.

A flash of white. Instantly, Logan was back at the front door, pushing it closed.

There, pinned to the door of his and Virgil’s apartment with a silver knife was a slip of paper.

Logan felt sick. It was paper from a pad that they kept in the kitchen. Paper that he usually wrote notes for Virgil on before he left for the night.

Doyle,

I believe I have something you want. You know where to find me.

-NM

The shaking stopped. The paper nearly tore with the force that Logan was gripping it. Clutching the note in one hand, Logan reached into the side pocket of his messenger bag for his cell phone. By the time that he had dialed Remus’s number, he was already out the front door of the apartment building.

----

It was barely fifteen minutes later when they all made it to King’s Inks.

Fifteen minutes too long, in Logan’s opinion.

Roman had just barely been able to talk Logan down from taking off after Virgil.

Rationally, Logan knew that he would have done the same thing if he were in Roman’s place. If he had snatched Remus's phone from his hand and heard himself, desperate and earth shakingly angry, raving about going off alone after a hunter of unknown ability, he would have talked himself down too.

That didn’t mean that he was any less angry about it.

When Logan had reached the tattoo parlor, only one twin had been waiting for him. When Roman told Logan that Remus had gone down the street to get the owners of the local coffee shop, Logan had nearly gone off on him. Thankfully, Roman’s bullshit detector and friendship was stronger than Logan’s ferocity.

The bell above the door had jingled not too long later, and Logan had stopped his pacing to look at the new arrivals.

Remus entered the tattoo parlor followed by two rather eclectic characters that Logan could only assume were the owners of the café down the street. He barely listened through introductions, just gathering the essentials--that Patton and Janus were friends of Virgil’s and here to help.

Roman then had to pry the--for lack of any other possible description, though it made Logan sick to the stomach to think it--ransom note from Logan’s hand to pass it around to the other three.

“Who is NM?” Janus’s voice was gruff, enough so that Logan didn’t even need to register the wet dog smell to know that he was a werewolf.

“Nate Miller.” Logan hissed out. His foot tapped impatiently against the polished concrete floor of the tattoo parlor. “He approached me at my work earlier this week.”

Janus raised a single eyebrow but didn’t challenge it. If Logan were in a better state, he would have noticed the worried tilt to Janus’s mouth, or the way that his back was ramrod straight. He would have noticed that Janus was just as worried for Virgil as he was.

To Janus’s left, holding the ransom note and staring unblinkingly at it, was Patton. They were trembling, their eyes glassy. Remus was leaning over their shoulder to read the note as well. Logan barely noticed the supportive hand that the human twin had placed on the new vampire’s back.

“And there was no sign of Virgil?” Logan swallowed back the urge to snap in his reply, only because of the waver in Patton’s voice. “How long ago do you think-”

“I don’t know.” Logan clipped. “Not long before I arrived back at the apartment. It still reeked of him.” Old Spice and gunpowder. Logan could still smell the phantom of it. “I need to find him.”

Roman placed a calming hand on Logan’s shoulder. “That’s what we’re trying to do, hothead. We’re trying to get your boyfriend back, but you shouldn’t go running off after a hunter alone. Especially not one that is obviously targeting you.”

Janus nodded along. “For once, Roman is speaking sense.” Roman’s cheeks flushed a soft pink at the low-bar praise. “I thought that you were supposed to be smart?”

Logan leveled a glare at the wolf. “I’m sorry, do you know me?”

Janus shrugged. “Might as well. Virgil talks about you enough.”

“What does it mean?” Patton interrupted before Logan could respond. “‘You know where to find me.’ Do you, Logan?”

Logan nodded curtly. “The observatory. There’s nothing else that it could mean. That’s where he confronted me before.” Just thinking about it stirred up Logan’s anger again. He ran a frustrated hand through his hair, tugging on it at the ends. “I just don’t understand! Why would he take Virgil if he wants me? He’s a human! He has nothing to do with this!”

The whole room froze and went suddenly, unbearably silent.

“What?” Logan snapped. He should probably feel worse about being so harsh with his friends--and, apparently, Virgil’s friends--but at the moment he couldn’t bring himself to care.

“Are you kidding me? Still?” Remus’s voice was shrill. More shrill than usual, even.

All four of the others were staring directly at Logan, with varying looks of disbelief and resignation.

“Logan, honey.” Patton’s voice was unbearably fond, despite the fact that Logan had only really known them for a couple of minutes. “Virgil is a vampire too.”

Logan blinked. Then blinked again. For a moment, just a moment, he forgot all about where they were and what was going on. And suddenly, everything made sense. “Shit.”

The others watched him, concerned, for just a moment before Janus spoke again, redirecting them all back to the matter at hand. Logan, however, felt as though his head was spinning. Everything that he had known was suddenly turned on its head. He took a deep breath.

There would be time to deal with his revelation later. For now, he needed to focus. Virgil needed him. Virgil needed all of them.

Logan looked up, refocusing back on the others. They were talking quietly amongst themselves. Logan cleared his throat.

“We need to make a plan.”

----

The planetarium was silent when Logan arrived. Anyone would have assumed that it was deserted.

The planetarium was closed for the night, which is why it was Logan’s day off. Usually the planetarium and, specifically, the observatory was a place of comfort for him. Tonight, however, he wanted nothing more than to not have to be here.

Well, that was untrue. He did want one thing more, and Nate Miller knew it.

His footsteps echoed through the empty halls. Spinning diagrams of planets and moons that would normally have been mesmerizing hung from the ceiling. During the day, the planetarium was beautiful.

Logan had the path to the observatory memorized. He walked down the halls quickly but with caution, not using his vampire speed. There was no way of telling what Nate had been prepared for when he demanded that Logan meet him here. There could be any number of traps and Logan needed to keep his head on his shoulders, as Janus had not so politely warned before they had split up.

Despite his admirable restraint, Logan still moved more recklessly than he probably should have on his way there.

The door was cracked when Logan reached the observatory, propped open with a stopper. Logan didn’t hesitate before crossing the threshold and entering. It was just as quiet inside the observatory as the rest of the planetarium had been. The aisles of plush, fold theatre-style seats innocently lined the rounded walls and radiated inwards, completely empty. The ceiling was rolled back and open to the heavens. A clear night sky shown down on Logan and the empty rows of seats. It was beautiful, but Logan knew the implications of the sight.

It was nearing dawn now. The sun would be rising within the hour.

Behind him, the door slammed shut. Thankfully, Logan had just enough dignity and composure not to flinch at the sound, although he did turn to see that the door had in fact been closed behind him.

“Well, well, well.” The voice--Nate’s voice--seemed to come from everywhere and nowhere. The intercom system. Logan scanned the room for movement, quickly and imperceptibly. To the human eye, he would have simply appeared unmoving. Almost bored. “You actually came. Took you long enough.”

Logan’s hands clenched into fists at his sides. He had never hated anything more than he hated that voice. “I got caught up.” He responded through clenched teeth. Logan wasn’t thrilled with the concept of conversing with Nate at all, but he needed the time. “Next time you should call.”

The laugh that followed sounded like nails scraping against a chalkboard to Logan.

“Oh, but darling, you never gave me your number.”

Logan’s fingernails were digging crescent moon shaped wounds into his palm. “Enough small talk. Where is he?”

“Who?” There was laughter still in Nate’s tone. Even though Logan couldn’t see him, his stomach was boiling with rage at the audacity.

“Enough of the games!” Logan hissed, striding a few purposeful steps further into the circular room. “Where is he? Where is Virgil?”

There was a despondent sigh from above, and suddenly, Logan could hear the stage in the center of the room rising.

Logan had been on that platform many times before, giving lectures and presentations to excited audience members. He was always filled with a warm sense of anticipation and excitement before those speeches, no matter the fact that he had given them countless times before.

Now, he felt nothing but dread as he watched the stage rise up from under the floor to eye level.

The figure in the center of the stage was strapped to a chair. Logan’s heart lurched to see Virgil, slumped over and limp, but his worry was rapidly overcome by venomous fury when he saw Nate Miller, standing just behind his unconscious roommate, a wooden stake in one hand.

“The monster is alive. For now. You and I have business to attend to, Doyle. It should be coming around any moment now.”

----

Virgil’s head was pounding. The world was spinning, and he hadn’t even opened his eyes yet.

It was worse than any hangover that he had ever endured as a human. His vision was blurred as his eyes cracked open, spots of brilliant color dancing at the edges of his vision. He felt his fangs poking against his bottom lip.

Virgil twitched, raising--or at least, trying to raise--his hand to rub at his temples. His eyes shot open as he realized that he couldn’t move his hands. Chest rising and falling rapidly with breaths spurred by increasingly rising anxiety rather than an actual need to breathe, Virgil jerked against the shackles on his wrists. Matching shackles, he realized, locked his feet to the legs of the chair that he was in.

He couldn’t move at all.

“I’d stop that if I were you.” An almost bored voice spoke in Virgil’s ear. Jerking away, Virgil turned his neck to face his captor. Distantly, Virgil recognized the face.

His mind was still swimming, but he remembered it. Opening the door, half expecting Logan to be on the other side, and being met with this man. Knowing almost immediately that something was off, being forced back into his own home, barely having a chance to fight back, barely getting to call out before a sharp pain was radiating through his skull and everything was fading to black.

Virgil hissed, desperately leaning away from the man and the wooden stake that he was gripping with obvious intent.

The man’s eyes flashed, the patient facade disintegrating before Virgil’s eyes, revealing a manic sort of rage that terrified Virgil to the core.

“Virgil.”

The voice snapped Virgil out of his terror. Virgil’s eyes flew across the room, down to where Logan was standing, in the middle of an aisle--where were they?--worry and--Virgil’s heart panged with hurt--fear in his eyes.

Logan took a single step forward, but before he could move any more, the man behind Virgil was pressing the tip of the stake right against the spot where his unbeating heart was.

“Not another step, Doyle. You even try and move and this monster is dust.” The man growled the words in a way that reminded Virgil of someone barely hanging on to sanity. Virgil kept his eyes trained on Logan. The man’s voice smoothened suddenly, as though he were getting himself under thinly spread control. “We can just talk, can’t we? Just the three of us.”

Virgil sent Logan a pleading look. Logan needed to get out of there. He had to leave before this hunter--because he had to be a hunter, there was no other explanation--hurt him. Logan met the look with a determined shake of the head.

“Why don’t you introduce us all, Doyle?”

Virgil swallowed thickly, glancing back at the hunter before returning his eyes to Logan, confused. But Logan wasn’t looking at him any longer. His gaze was trained on the hunter behind him and Virgil felt as though he were missing something distinctly important.

Logan’s eyes narrowed. Virgil knew that face. Logan was biting back what he really wanted to say, and if there weren’t a stake pointed at his heart, Virgil would have wanted Logan to speak his mind and push this arrogant bastard right off of his soapbox.

Logan’s eyes flicked back to Virgil’s, and once again Virgil could see that little flicker of fear. Virgil swallowed down his own hurt.

“Virgil Noir, my roommate and… my friend.” There was something hesitant in the way Logan said it. Virgil tried desperately to focus on his anger. He had every right to be angry right now, and it had everything to do with the hunter threatening to kill him. He had no right to feel so… betrayed by Logan.

Logan, however, had every right to be scared after finding out that his roommate was a monster.

“And you are Nate Miller.” Logan continued. Virgil grimaced. Fuck Nate Miller. Virgil hated even his name. “A hunter who approached me yesterday at my place of work, and who is not targeting me. Why?”

There was a shocked, deranged sounding laugh from behind Virgil, and the hunter placed his hand on Virgil’s shoulder. Disgusted, Virgil shook it off, only to freeze when the sharpened end of the stake pressed threateningly against his chest. “Are you joking?” Nate’s voice was nearly an octave higher than it had been before. He sounded incredulous. “Don’t act like you don’t remember me, Doyle. Stupidity is unflattering for you.”

Logan’s face remained impassive. Virgil curiously looked him up and down. As someone who considered himself very good at reading Logan, Virgil could confidently say that he genuinely looked confused.

Virgil forced a laugh past his monumental anxiety. “Looks like you’re not that memorable, dude, sorry to break it to you.”

Nate grabbed a fistful of Virgil’s hair at the back of his head, tilting it back. “Shut up, bloodsucker! Don’t think I won’t put you down like the monster you are.”

Virgil gritted his teeth to hide the pain. “Do it then! By the time you turn me to dust, Logan will be gone.” Virgil looked down from where his head was still tilted at the uncomfortable angle to meet Logan’s eyes.

Logan shook his head minutely and Virgil’s brow furrowed in confusion.

Nate chuckled, breathlessly, releasing Virgil’s hair from his grasp and stepping around the chair so that Virgil could finally see him fully. Virgil’s first thought was that he was rather short, for a hunter. “Nice try. Goading me into focusing on you. I’m not an amateur. Doyle wouldn’t leave his perfect little boyfriend. That’s why he’s here, you know. For you.”

Virgil ignored the words, though they made something that wasn’t strictly fear squirm in his gut. He wasn’t going to get hope for his relationship with Logan from a hunter who was threatening to kill him. “Sounds like someone’s jealous.” He said instead, taking a vindictive sort of joy from the fury that was clearly written on Nate’s face at the statement.

“Virgil.” Logan warned, taking a single step forward.

Nate held up the stake again, menacingly. “Don’t move, Doyle.” Logan froze. “You want to pretend you don’t remember? Fine, I’ll jog your memory.” Gripping the stake tightly but lowering it, Nate took another step closer, his eyes trained solely on Logan. It made Virgil want to kick him. Luckily for the hunter, his legs were still shackled to his chair.

“We met three years ago, before you moved here. You were working at that bookshop, remember?” Virgil frowned, his eyes lobbying back and forth between Logan and Nate. He was confused. Why was a hunter so obsessed with Logan? “You were always wearing that cute little scarf. For a few weeks there, I came to the shop to see you every day.”

Logan’s eyes were widening in recognition, surprise and confusion warring on his perfectly smooth features. Virgil swallowed thickly. Logan knew this hunter.

“I remember.” Logan’s voice was low, barely there. His hands, which had been tense and balled into white fists since he first arrived at the observatory were relaxing slightly. “But- I don’t understand? If you were a hunter-”

Nate laughed, an odd mixture of pleased--likely at the fact that Logan suddenly remembered their connection--and cruel. “Please. If I had known right away what you were, I wouldn’t have wasted the time. When I found out, it was right before you moved away. I was disgusted. Wasting so much time and energy on a vampire-” Nate spat the word like a curse.

Virgil sucked in a shallow breath. A vampire? Logan? No. That couldn’t possibly be true. The hunter had to be mistaken. There was no way that Virgil would not have known that Logan was also a vampire. Except…

It did sort of make sense. Why Logan was also only ever awake at night, even on his days off. Why he was always just as cold as Virgil was. Why he kept so many jars of jam that Virgil was just realizing were definitely not full of jam. Virgil cursed himself. How had he not known-- How had he not noticed?

He remembered the other day at the café with Janus and Patton. If he got out of this alive, he was so going to kill Janus.

Then, of course, it dawned on Virgil exactly what sort of situation they were still in. If Logan was a vampire, then both of them were in danger right now. Logan had come for him, putting himself in grave danger. A hunter may spare a human, but they saw all creatures of the night as the same. Virgil’s eyes widened and he stared at Logan, trying to convey his urgency with his eyes.

Above all else, Logan had to get out of this observatory okay.

But Logan wasn’t looking at Virgil anymore.

“So you followed me?”

“I had to track you down!” The hunter cried, as if the alternative were impossible. “All you monsters are the same. I couldn’t just let you get away with tricking me-- with seducing me, masquerading as if you could possibly be normal. You’re a killer.”

Logan looked incensed. “If you’ve been watching me for so long, then you know that I haven’t killed anyone recently.”

“But you have before.” Nate spat, his eyes wild. “Don’t deny it. All of you are killers, whether you fancy yourself reformed or not. You need to pay for what you’ve done.” Nate gestured to Virgil, hatred burning in his eyes, despite the fact that he couldn’t even deign to look at him properly. “From the research I’ve done about this one, it took it three years before it managed to stop slaughtering humans. You’re all the same, no matter how much better you think that you are.”

Virgil winced. Guilt clawing at his insides. He barely remembered the three years after he was first turned. It was the darkest period in his past, and having it so gracelessly laid bare in front of Logan made him want to do nothing more than disappear. But when he managed to look back up at Logan there was something… understanding in his eyes.

And that was when Virgil knew that whatever his past, whatever this hunter said and did, Virgil would do anything in his power to get the man that he loved out of this safely.

Even if it meant putting his neck on the line by riling up a deranged hunter.

“And how many lives have you ended in the past year alone?” Virgil hissed, staring defiantly up at his captor.

Nate scoffed. “None that matter, vampire. You dare to compare the lives of you creatures to human life-”

“Say,” Virgil drawled, his voice low, “are we just here to listen to you spew your manifesto about how much more pure than us you are, or are you actually going to do something?”

“Actually, I did have something in mind.” Nate’s face was unnervingly calm again. A pit of dread settled in Virgil’s stomach. Nate nodded up at the ceiling.

The open dome of a ceiling.

Virgil looked up and couldn’t help but notice the tell-tale signs of a sunrise along the edges of the circular opening. The clear implications dawned upon him--Patton would be proud that he could manage to think a pun even in such a dire situation--quickly. His eyes slipped closed in momentary resignation.

The sun is going to rise--likely within the next few minutes--and Virgil was there, shackled to a chair just under the open ceiling. The stake in the hunter’s hand was just for show. He fully intended to burn Virgil alive, and there was nothing that Logan could possibly do about it without risking his own life.

Logan himself just seemed to be putting together the implications of Nate’s thinly-veiled threat.

And suddenly, as though a switch were flipped, Logan’s calm demeanor changed. No longer was he feigning interest in Nate’s monologue or humoring his explanations. His fists were once again balled at his sides, white with tension, and for the first time ever, Virgil could see his fangs.

All at once, Virgil knew that Logan would not be letting this go quietly. He wasn’t completely sure what tipped him off, but he knew that if it came down to it, Logan would not be leaving him to burn alone under any circumstances.

It’s a sobering realization. Logan was going to risk his own life for no reason at all--because, honestly, how would his death help anyone? Virgil was still stuck there. If Logan really was a vampire--and he obviously was--he could have been out of there and safe before Nate could even blink. Virgil could not fathom why he looked so determined to waste his life, but he already knew what he needed to do about it.

Virgil forced a laugh. It was loud in the otherwise silent observatory. “Burning me? Really? That’s the best that you could do?”

Nate looked hilariously offended by the complete lack of shaking in his boots that Virgil was doing.

Virgil continued. “No, honestly, did you sit in your sad little apartment, surrounded by cut out pictures of Logan and red string and come up with this plan? Did you rub your little hands together and laugh maniacally? Did you honestly think that using the sun as your choice of weapon was poetic or something? What are you going to tell your little hunter friends? That you tracked down your old vampire crush and just sat and watched the sun rise with him?”

Nate turned an absolutely alarming shade of red. Really, it would have been funny had it not been immediately followed by his fist colliding with Virgil’s nose.

Virgil barely had time to hold in a grunt of pain before Nate was being pulled off of him and shoved to the ground. Virgil opened his eyes to see Logan on the platform with them, his knees straddling the hunter’s chest, and his hands wrapped around his neck.

“Logan-” Virgil desperately called out, completely ignoring his throbbing nose.

Nate was resisting, thrashing against Logan’s hold, and although Logan had the upper hand with the element of surprise, Virgil could do nothing but watch as the hand that was still clutching the wooden stake rose behind Logan.

“Logan!” The scream tore it’s way out of Virgil’s throat before he could think of the consequences. Logan’s grip on Nate faltered.

Before anything life shattering could happen, the stake was kicked from Nate’s hand by a black combat boot. Virgil’s eyes snapped up to see what--who--the boot was connected to, and his eyes were met with a man dressed in quite a bit of leather that Virgil had never seen before.

His first, terrifying thought is that this was another hunter, but no, this man was very obviously not on Nate’s side.

“Not on my fucking watch.” The man growled, kicking the stake even further away now that it was out of Nate’s grasp. The man looked angry, albeit not as angry as Logan, who was still apparently attempting to choke the life out of the hunter. His wild eyes were matched by a wild nest of shaggy brown hair that had a couple of glinting silver streaks in it, and offset by what appeared to be a very carefully maintained moustache.

He was altogether the strangest looking person that Virgil had ever seen, and he hadn’t even glanced in Virgil’s direction yet.

Virgil’s eyes were pulled away from the struggle by a light touch against one of his wrists, just above the shackle.

“Patton?” Sure enough, Patton was hovering over Virgil now, their eyes kind and concerned.

“Are you okay, V?” Their voice shook a bit. “What am I saying? Of course you aren’t okay. I’m sorry, Virgil.”

“Wh- How did you-?”

Patton smiled kindly, their eyes flicking over to Logan. “Logan called us--or, well, he called Remus,” They nodded in the direction of the punk guy, “and he told Roman, who called me and Janus. We’re going to get you out of here.”

For the first time since he had been texting Janus and Patton earlier, something loosened in Virgil’s chest. Relief.

Before he could say anything to thank Patton or perhaps ask who the hell Remus and Roman were, Patton was gripping the shackle that held Virgil’s left hand in place and tearing it away as though it were nothing.

Sometimes Virgil forgot just how strong they were.

Patton quickly repeated the process with Virgil’s remaining restraints.

“Logan. Get off of him.”

Virgil craned his neck, looking over his shoulder to see what was happening. The scuffle had moved. Logan still had the upper hand, but now there were two more figures standing over him and the hunter. The first was nearly identical to the one in the combat boots, though minus the moustache and with much tidier hair. The second--

“Janus.” Virgil almost felt like smiling at the sight of his friend. Janus looked up, his two-toned eyes flashing in the light.

Right. The light. The sunlight that was quickly approaching.

“Logan.” It was the second unknown one, the one with the perfect hair, that was speaking. Virgil just noticed the pointed ears that were poking out between his curls. “You have to stop. Remus, Jan and I have this. It’s almost sunrise. You have to get out of here, Logan.”

But Logan wasn’t listening. Virgil’s chest constricted. There was something dark--something dangerous--in Logan’s eyes. Nate wasn’t fighting much anymore. Any words that Virgil might have said were stuck in his throat.

Beside him, Patton whimpered.

“Logan!” The one with the moustache snapped, reaching down and grabbing one of Logan’s biceps. “Logan, you need to get Patton and Virgil out of here.”

Something of what the human said must have registered in Logan’s mind, because his grip on Nate loosened until he was no longer strangling him. Luckily, Nate didn’t get a chance to recover, because as soon as Logan was pulling away, Janus had Nate in his grasp, his eyes flashing golden.

Virgil could breathe again. He trusted that Janus, and whoever those other two were, had this.

“Logan.” He called, breathless. His voice was still raw from screaming earlier. His nose was still gushing blood and very likely crooked, but he didn’t care in the slightest. Not when Logan looked up at him.

In an instant, Logan was across the room and pulling Virgil into his arms. And Virgil let him. He didn’t resist for even a second, willingly letting himself melt against Logan like he’s a lifeline.

And in some ways, he was.

“Are you alright?” Logan’s voice was achingly tender. So heartbreakingly tender, given what he had just been doing seconds ago. “Did he- Did he hurt you any more than-”

Virgil cut him off because that dangerous note was coming back into Logan’s tone. It shouldn’t have been as hot as it was. It shouldn’t have been hot at all. “I’m fine, L. Are you-”

“If you’re safe, I am.”

And it was terrible timing. Just feet away, his best friend and two other people who he could only assume were Logan’s friends were fighting with a hunter. Patton was still right behind him, standing just off the stage, watching. But Virgil found himself leaning just that much closer to Logan. It was as if Logan had his own gravitational pull that tugged only on Virgil. He glanced down at Logan’s lips. One was split, but otherwise they looked just the same as they had the other night, when they were safe in their apartment.

Virgil let out a shaky exhalation. When he looked back up, Logan’s eyes were trained downwards. Towards his own lips. Virgil licked his lips.

Behind him, Patton gently cleared their throat. Virgil whirled around.

“I don’t want to interrupt, kiddos, but the sun is going to rise any minute now. We need to get you home.” They didn’t speak for themselves, but Virgil knew that Patton wouldn’t be leaving without them, and he didn’t want his friend to burn alive either.

He glanced back at Logan, but Logan’s expression was shuttered once again.

“Yes, you’re correct, Patton. We need to leave now.”

Virgil glanced back at the other four one last time. They had Nate under control once again. Swallowing, Virgil turned back to Patton and Logan and nodded once. “Let’s get out of here.”

----

In the end, they did indeed make it back to their apartment before the sun rises, if just barely. Patton left them only once they were sure that Logan and Virgil were okay enough to be left alone at their apartment.

Which was perfectly fair, because they had just had a home invasion only a few hours ago.

When they were back in the apartment building and safe from the approaching dawn, the two of them began to clean the apartment in silence.

It really wasn’t that big of a mess, but both of them seemed to silently agree that they would not be able to rest until the apartment was returned to the state that it had been before. When things were safe.

Virgil’s tongue felt too big in his mouth as he helped right the entryway. Only hours ago he had been trying and failing to fend off Nate in this very spot. And, sure, things were okay now, but somehow it feels suddenly much more real than it had when they were leaving the observatory.

As for Logan… He looked tense. It was understandable. Because Virgil had gone and got himself kidnapped like some sort of damsel in distress-

His stomach curled in on itself. He couldn’t shake the anxious thought that Logan was… angry with him for it.

And it was stupid. It was so stupid, and Virgil knew it. After everything that Logan just went through to get Virgil back, there was very very little chance that Logan would blame anyone other than Nate for this turn of events. And even if he did blame someone else, Virgil knew Logan, and he knew that if anything, he was likely blaming himself.

Which was even more stupid.

Once the entryway was presentable again, Logan cleared his throat. Virgil paused, halfway through taking his hoodie off. Usually he wore it even when inside their apartment, but right now everything that he was wearing felt… dirty.

“Are you sure that you’re alright?” Logan’s voice was soft. Quieter than usual. Almost… unsure. Which was almost unheard of for Logan.

Virgil softened, pulling his jacket the rest of the way off. “I’m… I won’t lie, Logan, I’m pretty shaken but… I’ll be fine. Are you…?”

Logan dodged the question, finally looking over at Virgil with thinly masked guilt in his eyes. “Your nose stopped bleeding.”

Virgil reached up a tentative hand to his face. To be honest, he had forgotten about it. The pain had numbed, but when he prodded it gently with a finger, he could tell that it was definitely broken. Patton would have said something if it had needed to be set, though, so Virgil wasn’t too worried. “I’m sure I’m a sight right now.” He chuckled weakly. It fell flat. There was silence in the apartment for a moment. “Logan-”

“I’m sorry.” Logan exclaimed, before Virgil could continue. “This is my fault. I… If you were hurt, I would… I never would have forgiven myself.”

“Don’t say that.” Virgil tried, stepping closer to Logan.

“It’s true.” Logan insisted. “If he had hurt you, or heaven forbid-” Logan made a little choked noise. “I couldn’t have lived with myself. You did nothing wrong. You didn’t deserve-”

“And neither did you.” Virgil’s voice was firm, pushing back against all denial. “You didn’t call this upon us, Logan. I don’t care if he thought that he knew you, or if he had hurt me any more than he did. None of it was your fault, and none of it would have been your fault. He is a hunter. I’m- We’re vampires. It could have happened at any time with any hunter.”

“But it didn’t! It was him, and he was targeting me. He only hurt you because I-”

Virgil’s mouth felt very dry as Logan cut himself off. “What matters is that we’re safe. We’re okay.” He tried to reassure Logan.

Logan closed his eyes, defeat settling over his features. “You don’t understand. He only hurt you because of how much I love you.”

The words hung in the air, heavy. They certainly weren’t how Virgil had ever imagined that they would be said for the first time. Still, a soft warmth blooms in Virgil’s chest. There were nerves there too, but he found it easy to ignore them. Mostly, he felt an overwhelming sense of rightness. Two days ago it had been impossible to consider that Logan loved him back.

But now… it was like he could see that Logan had been saying it for a long time now. He had said it earlier, when he had been so obviously terrified for Virgil. He had said it the night before, when he held Virgil close and they swayed around the kitchen. He had said it even before that, when he made sure to be quiet every evening when he left for work just after sunset, when Virgil was still holding on to sleep. He said it when he picked ocean documentaries for Virgil, even though he was not-so-secretly terrified of the ocean. He had said it countless times since they had met, even though Virgil was only just now hearing it for the first time.

Virgil took the remaining few steps forward to close the distance between them. Logan looked almost pained. Before Virgil could lose his confidence in himself--in this--he reached out and placed a hand on Logan’s cheek.

When Logan met his eyes, Virgil damn near melted into the ground. Logan’s deep, chocolate brown eyes always were a weakness of his. He wanted to say something. But, then again, Virgil never really had been the one that was good with words. That was definitely more Logan’s department. Instead, Virgil just leaned forward and closed the distance between them completely.

Logan’s lips were soft, just like the rest of him was, although he was loathe to show it. He gasped softly against Virgil’s mouth, but he didn’t even try to pull away.

Logan leaned into the kiss with an insistence that made Virgil’s still heart pirouette in his chest. Virgil exhaled, and it felt as though he had been holding his breath his entire life, despite the fact that he hadn’t needed to breathe in just over fourteen years.

Kissing Logan was like finally coming home. And though it was terribly cliché, Virgil couldn’t bother to imagine another way to describe it. Virgil couldn’t imagine ever getting tired of this sensation. From his head to his toes, he felt warm.

He felt alive.

Slowly, Virgil parted his lips under Logan’s and even though Virgil had been the one to initiate the kiss, he was surprised when Logan took his lower lip between his own. Virgil didn’t bother to hold back the low noise that arose in the back of his throat, thankful once again that he couldn’t blush.

The noise seemed to be appreciated, though, because Logan made a rather audible noise of appreciation. Right before Virgil felt a sting on his lower lip.

Logan pulled back almost immediately after, a startled--no, a shell shocked--expression on his face. His fangs were descended and Virgil knew instantly that that was what he had felt. He bit back a laugh.

Logan looked breathless. He looked breathtaking.

“I love you too.” Virgil confessed, his hand still cradling Logan’s cheek. “Of course I do. I would have done exactly the same thing if it were you.”

And Logan.

Logan laughed.

And it was the tension break that they needed after the completely awful night that they had both just experienced.

It was not a loud laugh. It was not really hysterical, either, though Virgil would have understood if Logan had lost his mind just a bit after the night that they had just had. It was a laugh of disbelief, mostly, and Virgil wholeheartedly agreed.

He couldn’t hold back a smile, and as he often couldn’t when he was with Logan. He didn’t even want to try. So instead he smiled.

Logan’s eyes turned serious. “I love you.” He repeated, this time with more conviction. He brought up a hand to cradle Virgil’s face, just as Virgil was. Virgil ran the pad of his thumb across Logan’s perfect cheekbone.

“I love you too.” Virgil replied. And after everything, that was enough.

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halcyonstorm · 4 years ago

Text

The Girl at the Library Chapter 1

Short Fic - Levihan

Themes: College AU, Library, Fluff, Slow Burn, Falling in Love, Female Hange Zoe, Student!Levi

Word Count: 5730

Chapter: 1/3

Warning: Mild Language

Read on Ao3 - The Girl at the Library

Summary: Levi is a college student who needs help on his research paper. Luckily, Hange is a book worm and works at the library.

Levi was stressed and annoyed, mainly because he was in college. Of course with college comes infinite amounts of homework assignments, 100-question exams with astronomical amounts of topics on them, unnecessary research papers, and staying in a dorm room with a kid that happens to have no problem inviting his friends over every night to hang out and party with no regards to his sullen roommate.

Levi had a paper coming up. He had to come up with a topic, find sources, and finish his paper by the end of the semester. With three weeks left to go, he decided he’d rather get it over with. He began his brainstorming in the study lounge at the center of his dormitory floor. He was starting to stress. He sat on the big yellow leather couch in the way-too-bright study lounge with his laptop in his lap. He tapped his pen against his head as he tried to think of an idea.

“You have to write about a topic related to your major,” The professor explained. “This is the one and only paper you will have assigned this semester. I suggest you get it done as early as possible.”

If only it were that easy. He had the rubric pulled up in one tab, and a ton of “How to pick a research topic” websites in others. His major was pharmaceuticals, a field he was inspired to take on because of his mother. She was very ill when he was very young, so they were in and out of hospitals. He was sitting on the edge of his mother’s hospital bed when a nurse came in the room to administer her medications.

“This is…” His memory was blurry. “This medication will help… and make you feel better.” And it did. 9 year old Levi was fascinated. This one little pill or bag of what looked like water helped his mother feel better. Within hours, his mother’s skin went from pallor to beige. Her hands were warmer. She looked more awake, more alive. She didn’t wince at Levi’s touch. She was in less pain. She got better, like the nurse predicted.

Since then, Levi always asked questions whenever they visited the hospitals again and again. “What kind of drug is that?” “What does it do?” “How long does it take to take effect?”

Levi recalled the memory with a deep sigh. He missed his mother. She was at home, not too far away. Levi never had the time to travel the hour through the big city to visit her. When he did have free time, he spent it studying or sleeping. He felt his heart twinge at this. She had sacrificed everything to help him attend college and to give him a good life.

Now with his head cloudy, he went to reach his water bottle in his backpack. He opened the lid and took a sip. At that moment, he could hear some obnoxiously loud students throwing tennis balls back and forth to each other. He recognized these kids too, they were some (of many) of the lovely visitors his roommate had over most nights. Suddenly in the blink of an eye, Levi’s water bottle spilled all over his laptop, a tennis ball on the floor next to him, and some worried voices approaching him. Within seconds, the laptop started to steam and the screen went black.

His laptop was fried, he determined. He felt heat start to rise inside of him.

“Oh my god, man. I am so sorry,” One of the kids said, trying to hold back a laugh.

“Yeah, man. We didn’t mean to.”

Levi took a deep breath and stood up. These kids… were gonna pay.

He closed his broken laptop and stood up. These kids were much taller than him, but looked to be easily intimidated by Levi’s presence.

“Do you have the money to pay for this?” He sneered, getting very close to their faces.

“Eh… no, but we have jobs! We can pay you back over time,” One of the kids trailed off. They seemed to be intimidated by the short man. “You live in 112 right?”

Levi nodded, his face heating up with anger. “This laptop cost me a lot of money.”

“We get it, man! We said we’re sorry,” the other kid explained. “We’ll pay you back or whatever.”

“Tch,” Levi clicked. He was extremely pissed. These kids should not be throwing balls at each other in the hallway. Also, they spilled his water which made a mess. “Which room are you both in?” They responded with 118. The one kid explained they get paid on the 15th and 30th of each month. Luckily, their pay day was 4 days away.

“I’ll stop by Tuesday, the 16th,” Levi decided, before gathering his things and heading to the stairs. He began to walk through the campus. Fuck, now where was he gonna go? How was he gonna find his topics? His computer was fucked. Putting it in rice wouldn’t have helped. He was so occupied having a debate with himself about where to research, he almost missed it. If he looked the other way or even blinked in that moment, he wouldn’t have seen it. It was the campus library. No, not the campus library, but a campus library. It blended into the surroundings, hidden from the passerbyers. There was a sign in the window “We’re Open!”.

The library was small, to say the least. It was old fashioned, which contrasted the modern aesthetic of the university. It was a small, dark brown, wooden building with four-pane windows. The door was a lighter shade of brown. He decided it was easier to check out this little library instead of walking another 10 minutes to get to the main library. He didn’t have time to waste. He had to get started with his paper right away. He walked up to the door and opened it. When he did, a little bell rang at the doorway.

“Just a minute!” A woman’s voice called from the back. Levi decided to wander around. There were many books crammed on the shelves. There were two computers on each side when he walked in. They looked out of place, considering they were very modern compared to the architecture of the library itself. The books were all shades of bright, vibrant colors. It was strange. From the outside, it seemed creepy and gloomy. Once he walked in, it was very cozy. The dark walls of the library contrasted the beautiful colors of the books.

Then, he saw the woman come out. She came up to the desk. He expected an elderly lady with her glasses on a chain, but he assumed this woman was a student. She was a young woman who wore thin oval glasses and her brown hair thrown up in a messy half-up-half-down ponytail.

“Hi!” The woman said. “How can I help you?”

“I want to use a computer, please,” He announced. He glanced at her nametag which hung like a necklace around her neck. “Hange” was the name on the tag. It was strange and unordinary, but it had a nice ring to it. The name seemed to suit her.

“Sure! You are allowed up to two hours a day,” Hange explains. “You can choose whichever computer you’d like.”

The computers were unoccupied. In fact, the entire library seemed vacant except for him and the employee.

“Does anyone actually come here?” Levi asked, setting his stuff down next to a desk, and looking her way. She looked like someone who would work at a library.

The brunette chuckled. “You are my third visitor today!” She exclaimed proudly. It was already about 3pm. He remembered the sign in the front says “12pm-6pm weekdays”.

Levi chuckled silently, air huffed out his nose. “How do you stay in business?”

“Well, the university thinks it’s good to have a small library in the outskirts of the campus so students have access to books and computers because the main campus library is in the center of the plaza. Sometimes we get about ten people a day, and sometimes they don’t even take anything out. Sometimes I wonder how…” She began to ramble now. She definitely has not had anyone else visit her today.

She was starting to get on his nerves. It’s been 20 minutes since he arrived, and she was still talking. He zoned out until she caught his attention.

“Hey,” She said. “What’s your name? I have to track whoever comes in to use the computers.”

Why? No one else comes in. He noticed her clipboard with the sign-ins was blank.

“Levi Ackerman,” He announced. She scribbled his name down. “Okay, it’s 3:30 now, so you have till 5:30 if needed.” She pointed to the clock with her pen as she explained. He nodded and proceeded to walk towards the table with the computer he claimed. He sat down and began working.

He was an hour into his research when he finally threw his hands up in the air in frustration. He still couldn’t think of a topic. He groaned aloud.

Hange was leaning against the main desk, her nose stuck in a book. “How Trees Communicate” was the title. When she heard the young man groan, she looked up.

“Is everything okay?” She asked, peering over her book at him.

“Yeah, yeah,” He mumbled. “Fine…”

Hange raised an eyebrow. She placed her bookmark at her spot, then strolled around the desk and walked over to him.

“What are you working on?” She asked, sitting in the seat next to him and put her hands on her knees, looking at him curiously. He scoffs. It was none of her business, he thought to himself. And it’s an invasion of privacy.

He was frustrated and desperate. Hoping for a miracle, he managed to tell her anyways.

“I need a topic for my paper and I can’t think of any…” Levi began. “It needs to be based on pharmaceuticals, my major. It also needs scientific evidence to back up my research…”

She was fully absorbed in what he had to say. She was bored, so helping Levi would’ve been something to do at least. Besides, Levi was in luck. She was an avid reader, always reading about anything and everything. She was studying plants and botanicals, but she found herself frequently taking out books about cooking; religion; war; animals; and medical topics including surgery, pathophysiology, anatomy, and pharmaceuticals.

“What about how diuretics affect blood pressure?” Hange suggested. Levi was taken aback. His eyebrows furrowed, and he shook his head in confusion. “Or if anti-alzheimer drugs actually help slow the progression of Alzheimer’s? Why do you take different medications during certain stages of Alzheimer’s disease? Or how do anti-seizure medications work? That is something I ask myself all the time. You take this little pill and BOOM! You’ll be fine, no seizure! Oh, oh, oh! Or, how certain medications cause certain adverse effects? How come so many medications cause anxiety?” Her eyes started to light up as she talked. They were a dark brown, but when she started to talk, they seemed to morph to a captivating hazel. He felt he could see every color in her eyes. He saw brown and green and the little lines of her iris. Hange’s hands would move as she talked, and her smile grew wide. She couldn’t keep still. She was getting excited by coming up with all these ideas. She seemed so passionate and so willing to help; he was overwhelmed by her.

Levi was in shock. His day started off horrible. Now, he was almost glad his laptop was fucked. This woman was making his mind race with ideas.

“Are you okay?” Hange asked for the second time within his visit there. Levi nodded slowly. “I am just… How do you know all that? Are you a med student?”

Hange chuckled and waved her hand at him. “No… I am a bookworm! Also, my mom is a nurse, so she used to teach me about nursing stuff all the time. Oh! You could write about the pathophysiology of anticholinergics! Or beta blockers! Or how the body reacts to the use of long-term steroids?”

Levi took a deep breath. He felt euphoric. He had been casually trying to think of topics since last week. All of a sudden, this woman can just ramble off hundreds of ideas? Levi smiled visibly.

“Actually… I really like the final topic you suggested. About steroids.” Levi admitted.

Hange smiled back at him. “Great! I can try to help you find some sources or books.” She directed him to open a new tab and to go to a certain database. “This is where you can find reliable sources. Over here,” She pointed to his screen at the left side. “You can add filters. You can change how old or new you’d like the sources to be, filter out certain words or phrases, et cetera.” She had been closer to him now; she scooted her chair closer so she could explain the database to him. It was hard not to look at her as she explained. She was captivating.

Levi began to type in words for his topic.

“Steroids”, “Long-term use”, “Cushing’s Disease”, “Addison’s Disease”, “Addisonian Crisis”, “Pathophysiology”.

He felt like he was finally getting somewhere. He was finally making progress.

As Levi was walking home, he couldn’t get his mind off that girl. He decided to brainstorm about his topic in his room once he got there. The thing was, though, he couldn’t think of any more ideas. He found it funny. Of course he was full of ideas and inspiration when he visited that library, but now he’s void of any.

Levi’s weekends were no different than the weekdays. He made it appoint to visit the library again the next day, Saturday. It was a sunny, cool Saturday morning. Levi had inspiration to write. He needed a computer and Hange’s ideas. When he arrived, it seemed busy. There were three other patrons at the library. He recognized Hange right away, helping a tall blonde man with a big nose. He wondered if she was the only employee there. The man she was helping was taller than her, so she had to reach up on her toes to point to items. She was an average height, but this action made her seem shorter than she actually was.

Hange looked his way and greeted him with a toothy smile. Levi waved at her and started to head down one of the aisles of books. He was in the nonfiction section, but was lost. For now, he just casually browsed the section, but quickly got impatient. He needed Hange’s help to find books for this paper. He heard her laugh with the patron. Maybe he’s a friend, he thought to himself. Her laugh was airy and full of heart. It seemed genuine and passionate. Levi felt an urge to make her laugh, too.

She finally made her way over to him. Levi was looking down at a book when she caught his eye. “Hey, stranger!” She greeted him with a wave. “Whatcha looking for?” She placed her hands on her hips.

“I’m trying to find some sources for my paper. Steroids is the topic,” Levi explained.

“Oh, right. I remember! After you left last night, I tried to look for some books for your topic,” She said. She was trying to help me? Levi thought to himself.

She curled her finger in a “follow me” gesture and he did. She brought him to another aisle or two over from where they were. “These are the 600’s, where you’ll most likely find what you’re looking for. I found a book or two about Addison’s disease, but it’s more of a memoir. You can look around though if you’d like. Anything in the 610’s should be right up your alley.” She explained as if she was going to leave, but she didn’t. Hange looked for books with him.

After a moment, she made a noise. “Look at this!” She exclaimed. She reached next to him to reach for a book. She was on her toes again. “Mmmm,” She moaned as she tried to reach. “Actually, I’m gonna get the step stool. I don’t think I can reach it.” Quickly, she left and came back with the stool. It looked unreliable, but Levi was sure he’d be able to prevent any accident from occurring. Hange placed it on the ground and stepped up on it, grabbing the book with ease. She stepped down with the book in her hand. This book had a white cover with a blue label and was titled “Coping with Prednisone”. Levi was surprised she even knew what prednisone was.

“Here!” She reached it out for him to grab. He took it and looked at her face. She had that same look in her eyes. “Did you want to use the computer?” He nodded and she led him towards the front of the library. The library was small from the outside, but very deep inside. It reminded him of a forest.

“I got your name, don’t worry,” She said, clicking her pen and writing his name down on the sheet.

“Oops!” Hange made a quick grimace. “I added an ‘e’ at the end. I’ll just cross it out.” The statement sounded like it was addressed to herself rather than to anyone else. She crossed out the extra letter.

“Ackermane”. Levi was gonna attempt to make her laugh.

“If you thought I looked like a horse you could’ve just said so.”

Mane, horse mane. Get it?

It felt like forever before Hange responded. She looked up at him, starting to laugh. It was a short but audible laugh. Her head nodded back and she smiled. Her cheeks turned pink and her eyes lit up for a moment. It made his heart skip a beat. It was a bad joke yet she still laughed. She chuckled. Giggled? No. Laughed lightly. Chortled? Maybe that’s the right word. Whatever it was, he wanted to do it more, maybe even more than that.

He followed her to the computers. The blonde guy she was helping earlier was on one computer. She led him to the two computers across from the other ones and sat down in the chair next to him.

“What are you doing?” Levi asked, placing the book she found for him on the table.

Her eyebrows raised, and after a moment she reacted. She waved her hands in front of her.

“I’m sorry! I thought you may have needed help. I should get back to work anyway. I gotta go through a new box of books that just came in.”

Levi looked up at her. Is she blushing? he asked himself.

“I’ll let you know if I need help.” Levi responded. She smiled at him before quickly walking away.

He started to find some evidence-based practice articles about how steroids can cause long-term side effects, especially if stopped abruptly. He made sure to keep the tabs available. He’d have to cite them later. Levi’s mind was racing with words and sentences and ideas. He had to get them down on paper. He opened Documents on the computer and started typing away.

The clicking of the keyboard soothed him. He was a pretty fast typer, he didn’t make many mistakes either. The library around him began to become quiet as his typing got louder and he got deeper in thought. Before he knew it, his two hours were up. He felt someone approach him from his right.

“Hey,” Hange said, gently tapping the table next to him. “It’s 2pm. I gotta close up.”

Levi snapped out of his focused trance with a quick head shake. “Right. Sorry.” He pulled out a flash drive from his backpack and plugged it into the computer. He transferred his document. “I got the first page done.”

Levi asked himself for a brief moment why he was sharing this information with someone he just met. Maybe since she helped him, he felt she should know.

“That’s great! It seemed like you were really focused,” Hange said, walking away to shut off some lights. Only then did he notice the white noise of the overhead lights quickly dissipate. The room buzzed with silence now. Levi and Hange were alone in the library. Suddenly, Levi felt nervous. He watched Hange walk around the room frantically, making sure to shut off all the lights and computers. She grabbed a bag. The bag was a fabric material with a patchwork design that had a long strap that hung on on her shoulder. Maybe she made it herself. She grabbed her big mess of keys and walked towards him.

“Ready?” She said. He nodded and walked outside, holding the door for her. She thanked him, locking the door behind her. They began to walk down the street slowly.

“Want to grab lunch?” Hange asked, looking at him. Levi looked back at her. She looked pretty.

“Sure, I can eat.” Hange chuckled at that. He didn’t try, but it made her happy for a brief moment. He seemed nervous but she was too.

They decided to eat at a cute restaurant on campus called “Life in Paradis”. It was a small, dainty place with a green and yellow checkered awning. The building was made of yellow brick, and the door was bright green. There were flower pots outside on the windowsill. Again, this place seemed totally out of place in the modern aesthetic of the university.

“This place is adorable!” Hange exclaimed. “I love the food here. You’ll love it too. They have all kinds of food here.” Levi felt a smile grow on his face. The way she talked made his heart flutter. She was always so passionate. They entered and got a table for two. This is not a date, Levi kept telling himself. Then why were his cheeks red?

They sat down and looked through a menu. Levi wasn’t extremely hungry even though he hadn’t had anything but tea this morning. He peered over his menu to look at the girl. Her hair was different today, he determined. Today all her hair was in a ponytail, and it was higher on her head. She wore a light yellow button-down with a long, light blue cardigan. Hange caught him staring at her and blushed.

“What would you two like to order?” The waitress asked him first.

“I’m gonna get a sandwich, I think,” He said, crossing his arms across his chest. “Turkey sub.” “I think I’m gonna get a chicken caesar salad,” Hange said. He nodded, grabbed the menus, and walked away.

Hange began to talk about how beautiful the flowers outside the restaurant were. They were all variants of pink, purple, yellow, and red. She described the petals and the leaves, the flowers’ origins, and all the meanings of the flowers. Levi wasn’t annoyed by her tangent this time. He actively listened to this girl talk about what fascinated her so much. He found it soothing. It made him wonder how her brain can contain all the information she was spewing at him. He enjoyed watching the way her eyes lit up when she talked. The beautiful green that blossomed at the bottom of her irises when the light hit her eyes at the right angle. The way her lips curled into a big smile when she talked to him. Her cheeks flush to a light pink when she describes the petals of the flowers or how flowers were used to express feelings when words cannot. It made his heart race.

“Levi,” Hange said. Her affect was the opposite of earlier when she was rambling. She wore a frown on her face, feeling guilty.“I’ve been rambling… sorry. It’s such a bad habit of mine. I can talk for hours and hours.”

“Don’t apologize, four-eyes,” Levi replied, leaning his elbows and forearms on the table in a crossed position. Hange smiled at him. Levi meant it. She shouldn’t apologize for talking, especially if it’s about something she loves. The food had arrived at the table. They ate. Levi felt the need to open up to her about something. He already learned so much about her, and her presence made him feel like he can open up.

“I like to run,” Levi said abruptly. Hange looked at him intently, chewing on a forkful of salad. “I don’t do it competitively or anything, but I enjoy running. I try to run once or twice a day.” Hange’s eyebrows raised and she nodded in agreement.

“That’s awesome!” She smiled again at him. “I like to run too. I’m really slow and get tired easily, but I enjoy feeling the wind in my hair and feeling my heart pound.” She took a bite of her meal again. Levi nodded and began to eat too. This sandwich was really good.

After talking some more about hobbies and school, they both finished their meal. The waiter brought over the check. Hange reached into her pocket for her wallet.

“What do you think you’re doing?” Levi asked. Hange furrowed her brows.

“I invited you out to lunch. I will pay,” Hange determined, her wallet now in her hands.

“No,” Levi said too quickly. “I will pay. It’s the least I can do. You helped me with my paper after all.”

The bickering lasted a very long minute. Before she got to think of the idea, Levi grabbed the checkbook and shoved his card inside before handing it to the waiter. Hange looked surprised. She sighed, putting her wallet away.

“Thank you, Levi. But you really didn’t have to.”

“I wanted to.”

In all honesty, Hange didn’t have much money. She worked at that library four times a week, but the money she made went towards paying off her tuition. She really wanted to treat this man, her new friend. She wasn’t sure if he thought the same way about her. Did he consider her his friend? She felt slightly embarrassed. She did most of the talking and felt like she was annoying him. Maybe he just wanted to pay so she would lay off.

But the truth is, Levi felt the opposite way of how she was thinking. He was interested to hear more from her. He was addicted to the way his heart raced when he saw her.

Over the next couple of days, Levi would go to that library whenever he was available. He knew it was closed on Sunday, so he went Monday and Tuesday to the library. Fortunately, he got his first batch of money from the brats that fried his computer. He received $100. Of course it was not enough, but it was a start. Wednesday the 17th came around. This specific day was a wild card. The weather was unpredictable. Levi entered the library just in time; it had started to downpour. The little bell rang as he entered the library. To his surprise, Hange was not working that day. There was a boy behind the counter who was tall and had a brown bowl cut hairstyle. He almost thought about turning around and leaving when he realized she wasn’t there. The rain charged towards the earth viciously, so he decided to seek shelter in the small library. It almost looked like a hurricane. He felt his mood change into a bad one. He didn’t remember to ask how often she worked.

“Hi there!” The man said. His name tag read “Moblit”. That’s a dumb name.

“I wanna use a computer,” Levi muttered, walking up to the main desk.

“Okay. Name?” Moblit grabbed the clipboard and a pen.

“Levi Ackerman.”

“Oh, I see you’ve been here before. A lot, actually.” Levi scoffed and rolled his eyes at his comment. He turned around, picked a computer, and sat down. He felt really stupid to not ask her about her schedule.

The two hours he spent working on his paper was incredibly slow. He didn’t get much done that day. He had writer’s block. He was almost done, so he didn’t worry about it too much. He didn’t know Hange’s schedule. He knew she worked Friday, the day they met; Saturday; Monday, and Tuesday. Maybe she only worked four times a week? Before he knew it, he asked Moblit aloud. It was almost an accident.

“Uh, she’ll be in on Friday,” Moblit replied. He probably couldn’t give out that information to some creep who began visiting daily with an attitude. He muttered a “thanks” before finishing up and heading out. The weather was holding up for now, so he decided to make a run for it. He didn’t say goodbye to Moblit.

He didn’t have an umbrella. The sun was trying to shine through the dark, eerie clouds. It wasn’t trying hard enough. He heard thunder rumbling in the distance.

Levi realized that this girl was all he thought about the past few days. Something about her enticed him. Something about her eyes and her presence drew him towards her. His heart skipped a beat whenever she’d graze his hand on accident, or even when she just talked to him. She made him happy. He hadn’t had too many friends in college. Although they just met last week, he felt a deep connection with her.

Suddenly, the sun poked through the clouds for a brief moment. The world lit up. It was at that moment he recognized a familiar face. Hange. She was walking towards him. She grinned when she saw him. She wore a fitted black t-shirt and baggy, light blue jeans.

“Levi!” She exclaimed. “I forgot my jacket in the library, so I came down to get it.”

“You didn’t tell me you weren’t working today.” Is all Levi said. Once he said it, he realized how creepy it must’ve sounded. A man she just met happens to go to this library to work on his project every day, who happens to come up with multiple reasons to interact with her. Maybe she thought he was a perv.

“Ehh!” She sighed. “I’m sorry! I thought I told you I was off today.” Levi shook his head. The comment itself may have sounded rude, but it wasn’t. She genuinely felt bad. “Walk with me.” Levi followed. Guess not.

“I don’t work Wednesday’s and Thursday’s. Well I’m not supposed to be,” Hange explained. “Mobilt, one of my co-workers, is always calling out sick. So I basically run the place.” They walked towards the library again and entered.

“Hey, Moblit. How’s it going?” Hange said in a normal tone, heading towards the back of the library. Moblit responded briefly, following Hange. Levi decided to hang back, he figured it was a secure area. He looked around awkwardly.

“Hange, you didn’t tell me you had a boyfriend,” Moblit said, following her towards the back.

Hange chuckled nervously. “He’s not my boyfriend,” she said bluntly. “He’s just a friend.” Moblit scoffed, rolling his eyes. “If he’s not your boyfriend, how come his mood entirely changed once he saw you?”

Hange found her jacket, folding it over her forearm. “Huh?”

“He was, like, in a bad mood when he came in. He used the computer but he seemed to be pissed or something. Now that he’s with you, he seems… tolerable.”

Hange laughed, feeling her cheeks blush. “It’s nothing like that. People have bad days, you know.”

Hange rolled her eyes and smirked, then headed towards the front of the library. “Ready?” Levi nodded and turned around.

“See you Friday,” Moblit called out. “See ya.” Hange replied.

The two started walking down the street. The air smelt of rain, and the ground was wet from the rain earlier. “Which building is your dorm in?” Hange asked. He was a bit surprised she asked him that, and she was so direct about it.

“Saint Maria,” He replied. She smiled. “Me too! I can’t believe I haven’t seen you around!” The wind picked up and the sky turned darker than before. They both looked up. “If you can’t make it to the library, you can use my desktop in my dorm room,” Hange offered. Levi’s cheeks turned bright red.

“Thanks, maybe tomorrow I can stop by,” Levi said. It was more of him thinking aloud than a statement. It was too late though, Hange already heard him. He could’ve sworn he didn’t say it aloud.

“That’s fine! I only have a class early tomorrow morning. Come by around 11, okay? My room number is 506.” Levi nodded. Thunder rolled and sounded closer now. They were almost at the dormitory building when it started to downpour. The rain was forcefully coming down on the two. Levi groaned in annoyance. He hated being in the rain. He hated being wet; he hated the wet socks and how gross he felt when it rained. He would’ve started to run to the building to seek cover, but he was taken aback by his new friend.

She was soaked and embracing it. She lifted her head up to face the sky and she laughed. It was loud, happy, genuine, and it took Levi’s breath away. Hange reached her hands out wide and spun around. He saw a strike of lightning light up the sky. He stared at her in awe. His heart swelled. Levi smiled big. After laughing, Hange looked at Levi and shared the look that he wore just a few moments ago. She loved his smile. She wished to make him smile more. She was also determined to make him laugh, too.

She grabbed his hand. “Let’s take cover!” And she pulled him into the dormitory hall. Saint Maria’s hall was beautiful. It had ceiling-to-floor glass pane windows that were always crystal clear. There was a big black modern chandelier that hung from the ceiling. It contained visible light bulbs. Hange secretly loved it. There were the same big, yellow, leather couches in the living room as there were in the study area on his floor. They both wiped their feet off on the big rug in the entryway.

“I love the rain,” Hange deduced, turning her head to look at him. As if Levi couldn’t tell. Her hand was still holding his. Levi looked up at her. “I like it, too.”

#levihan #levi x hange #levi x hanji #levihan fic #aot #snk #attack on titan #shingeki no kyojin #snk fic #aot fic #rivahan

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clairenatural · 4 years ago

Text

look at you, strawberry blond

destiel, 1.8k. pining, fluff, growing up together, etc! minor character/parental death, vague mention of John’s A+ Parenting. based on the mitski song (this is a repost because the first one got deleted)

I love everybody because I love you

Castiel first learns what love is when he’s eight years old and Gabriel, sixteen, is grumbling about driving an hour out of his way to find his girlfriend the rare chocolates she likes for Valentine’s day.

“Why?” he asks his older brother, and Gabriel sighs, melodramatic as always.

“That’s love, little bro. Remembering the little things and then putting in the time to make it happen.”

Cas thinks about when he told Dean his parents don’t let him eat candy. He thinks about how Dean has given him half his Kit Kat bar every day for the last year.

He thinks about the time he scraped his knee falling off the jungle gym and Dean spent the rest of recess picking dandelions to make him feel better. Yellow is his favorite color.

“Oh.”

“You’ll understand when you’re older, Cassie. Love is about sacrifice, and commitment--” he goes on, but by the time Michael cuts him off, yelling from his office that you’ve only been dating for two months, Gabriel, stop preaching to Castiel, Cas has already sprinted up the stairs to his bedroom.

A broken piggy bank, $1.50 in pocket change, and several pleas to Gabriel later, and Castiel tucks a king-sized Kit Kat into Dean’s valentine box.

--------------------------------------

When you stood up, walked away, barefoot

It’s eight years later, one summer in high school, when Castiel realizes that there’s a difference between loving and being in love, and that he is, in fact, in love with his best friend.

He realizes this as he watches Dean walk away, sandals discarded and unnecessary in the soft grass, back to the picnic tables to get them both more fruit punch. It’s the annual junior class picnic, the official welcome to being upperclassmen, and the August sun casts a warm glow over Dean’s freckles, and Castiel knows.

Two seconds later, he watches Dean nearly get hit by an errant frisbee and completely forget his punch mission in lieu of playfully tackling its thrower, Benny Lafitte. He watches Lisa Braden, giggly and glowing and perfect as always, yelp as she’s almost caught in the crossfire, and Dean winks at her as he releases Benny.

He swallows thickly and turns his attention back to the patch of grass they’d been laying in, flattened where Dean had been just a few moments before. He wishes he hadn’t come to this particular realization.

And the grass where you lay left a bed in your shape I looked over it and I ached

--------------------------------------

I love everybody because I love you I don't need the city, and I don't need proof

Castiel goes to college in Chicago and pretends like the two-hour drive between them doesn’t mean anything. And it doesn’t, until Dean’s father gets a job back in Kansas halfway through his freshman year. Dean goes with him even though he’s an adult because the alternative is letting Sam deal with John alone, so Castiel spends most of that summer in Lawrence, dodging both his friends in the big city and his family back in Pontiac. He tells them all that he’s studying Kansas’ role in the Civil War, assisting in research back at the University, but he and Dean spend two months going on road trips with Sam.

His sophomore year John dies and Castiel flies back for the weekend, explaining his sudden departure as a family emergency and getting an extension on two papers. Dean holds his hand at the funeral but won’t look him in the eyes for two hours after, even as he refuses to leave Castiel’s side.

The boys move in with Bobby but that summer Dean shows up in Chicago, explanations lined up about not worrying about Sam anymore and wanting to see what about the city made Cas keep coming back. Castiel gets an internship and pretends like that was the plan all along. He quietly cancels his plane tickets to South Dakota.

All I need, darling, is a life in your shape I picture it, soft, and I ache

--------------------------------------

Reach out the car window, trying to hold the wind You tell me you love her; I give you a grin

Dean stays in Chicago. He moves into Castiel’s empty room when his original roommate moves out, he finds work at an auto shop, and he starts taking mechanic classes at a community college. Castiel isn’t sure why—he doesn’t want to ask. Afraid to look the gift horse in the mouth and risk having his happiness bitten off.

Then Dean starts talking about a girl. Then Castiel meets the girl, Cassie Robinson, and it all makes sense.

He pretends it doesn’t sting every time Dean brings her up, that the way his face lights up doesn’t burn, that he doesn’t feel physically ill the first time he meets her.

By the time Dean tells him he’s in love, gushing about Cassie in a way eerily reminiscent of Gabriel twelve years earlier, it’s turned into a dull ache that Castiel has mostly contained in the back of his chest. They’re on their way to Cassie’s apartment, the first stop on their way to a cabin spring break of their junior year, and the ache is suddenly threatening to break through his ribcage.

But the sun is warm on his cheek, and the radio is playing a soft summer soundtrack, so Castiel allows Dean’s happiness to wash over him long enough to forget who—or, more importantly, who isn’t—causing it. He grins at his best friend before turning his gaze back out the passenger window of the Impala.

Oh all I ever wanted was a life in your shape So I follow the white lines, follow the white lines, Keep my eyes on the road as I ache

--------------------------------------

Look at you, strawberry blond

Dean and Cassie break up, and Dean drinks for a month, but Castiel getting into Stanford for grad school distracts him just long enough to go back to normal (a normal that does not involve thinking about how Dean nearly kissed him when they were both drunk the night he got his acceptance).

This new normal involves staring graduation in the face, and California beyond that, and moving out of his Chicago apartment somewhere in this middle, which also involves coming to terms with moving away from Dean.

Until Sam gets his own acceptance to Stanford a few months later. Then Dean starts sending him links to two-bedroom apartments, and using “we” when talking about the move, and looks just as confused as Castiel when he asks about it.

“Well, yeah. I mean, with you gone, and now Sam—You thought you were going by yourself?”

And even though Castiel vaguely thinks this is a bad idea, and living with his best friend who he’s been in love with for his entire memory had been hard enough for the two years they’d been doing it, he can’t say no. Because every time he gets up the nerve to say something Dean calls him over and shoves his laptop into Castiel’s face, talking about hiking trails and flower fields and front lawns and dogs, and that quells any doubt he had.

They move to Palo Alto, into a townhouse with a lawn and a communal garden. Dean adopts a golden retriever.

Fields rolling on, I love it when you call my name

--------------------------------------

Can you hear the bumblebees swarm? Watching your arm

Two months into Castiel’s first year of graduate school they have a picnic, taking advantage of the lingering warmth of the California fall. Sam is off in the field playing with Zeppelin, obviously having used the ‘come meet my brother’s dog’ excuse to invite the pretty blonde woman (Jess?) chasing the golden with him. Dean is rambling about Star Trek and Castiel is paying half attention, the majority of his focus on the reading in front of him because professors don’t consider picnics an extension-worthy excuse.

He’s just started to get invested when he hears a yelp and looks up to see Dean Winchester, his best friend, most trusted confidant and the possible love of his life, swatting a bumblebee. Cas gasps, reading forgotten, and lunges across the picnic blanket to grab Dean’s wrist. “Dean.” He chastises, and Dean gives him a look.

“It’s a bee, Cas.”

“It’s a bumblebee, which are essential—”

“To our ecosystem, yeah, but it’s pretty essential to me that it doesn’t sting me.”

“It won’t sting you if you don’t swat at it.”

“You didn’t see the look on it, man. It meant business.”

“Bees are attracted to sugar. You probably just smell good.”

Dean grins. “You calling me sweet, Cas?”

And, well, no. He isn’t. He’s talking about the empty pie tin next to Dean. But the words make him realize just how close they are, how far he’d moved into Dean’s space in his efforts to stop his hand, how the force of the movement had pushed Dean almost back onto his elbows.

He opens his mouth to respond the way he usually does to Dean’s cavalier flirting, but the words don’t leave his mouth—which is, somehow, he swears, closer to Dean’s than it was a second ago. Just as Castiel is preparing to push back, clear his throat, and add this moment onto a growing list of almost-but-not-quite moments stretching back years, Dean sucks in a breath and closes the gap.

Castiel reacts before his brain can fully comprehend what’s going on, bypassing any shock entirely and kissing Dean back immediately. He lets go of his wrist, instead bringing his hand to the side of Dean’s face, stroking his cheekbone with his thumb. Dean pushes himself back up and wraps an arm around Castiel’s waist, pulling him essentially into his lap, and then they’re kissing, and Dean smells like summer and tastes like apple pie, and Castiel suddenly understands more than ever why bees are always buzzing around him.

It feels like a lifetime until it’s over, until they’re just staring at each other and out of breath, both scared to say anything and break the magic they’d accidentally created. The silence is only broken by a shout from across the grass, followed shortly by a tennis ball that nearly misses them, followed by 65 pounds of golden retriever that does not miss them and nearly topples Castiel in his pursuit of the ball. And then Sam comes running after the dog, still shouting—apologies, this time—and then there’s Jess, laughing hysterically, and then Castiel has to scramble out of the way because Zeppelin has made a U-turn, interpreting the whole commotion as a game of keep-away.

Dean meets his eye above the chaos and grins, and the sunlight hits his dirty blonde hair, and it’s so breathtaking Castiel almost forgets to smile back.

I love it when you look my way.

#destiel fluff #deancas fluff #destiel fic #deancas fic #destiel #fic #spn #i told myself i wasn't gonna repost this but this verse lives rent free in my head so like. here u go sorry #also i like it and want it on my blog!!!#my words #(tumblr actually put this in the tags challenge)#over 1k words

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lightsaberupmybutt · 4 years ago

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Three’s a Crowd - Reader/Ben Solo/Poe Damerson (Modern AU)

alright so Ben/Kylo is a big ego kid in this, because of course. Also, Rey is ACTUALLY Lukes daughter in this, making them cousins. Ive fiddled with the plot okay sue me.

Summary: Poe, Finn and their roommate have been living in a harmonious tenancy, but when Finn decides to move out for a year of travelling, the two are left with no option but to look elsewhere for their third body. Rey Skywalker, a friend of the group, proposes her cousin for the role. He's in a band, wears all black and all in all is somewhat of a social reject - but he's also all theyve got.

“I think that one was actually somehow worse than last weeks” You tell Poe, as he pours himself a juice and settles down next to you on the sofa. You'd just finished showing around another possible roommate and you felt exhausted in every sense of the word.

“How can he be worse than the neo nazi?” Poe shot you an unbelieving look and rolled his eyes, kicking his feet up onto the coffee table and knocking some of your papers in his wake.

“Alex was a she, and they asked if they could hang their deer head in the front room” you grimaced even thinking about it, weren't all artsy college students supposed to be vegetarians anyway? why did you have to get saddled with the only blood thirsty one on campus.

“Thats not so bad”

“Poe she showed me a picture of her taxidermied cat”

“Oh”

You had tried to find a polite way to stop her from passing you her phone, but you were too nice to make her feel uncomfortable, and now the image of the long dead tabby would remain behind your eyes for god knows how long.

“was she hot?” You shook your head, causing Poe to sigh wistfully.

“Not hot enough to cancel out her obsession with dead bodies anyway” you informed him, the hopeful look from his eyes gone.

“Face it Poe, were doomed” You let your head fall into your hands, Poe letting out a laugh before wrapping his arm around your shoulder.

“Hey we’ll get someone! who wouldn't want to live here?” You knew his question was rhetorical but when looking around the cleaner than usual flat, you had to admit it was missing something. Bare spaces on the walls from where Finn had taken down his pictures, the empty side of the kitchen counter that had once houses his overpriced coffees. You even missed picking up his empty cups after him, the room feeling like it had less character without them. It truly hadn't felt the same in the flat since Finn had left, and although Poe concealed it well, you could see it was getting to him too. Poe had, after all, known Finn first; Finn managing to get a very drunk and outspoken Poe out of a sticky situation he had found himself in when running across a local gang in a dive bar. The ‘first order’ as they so called themselves, had an infamous reputation around campus for being trouble makers and general doers of bad deeds. Ever since that night they had been an unstoppable duo, until they met you of course, and their duo became three.

You loved Finn, and you knew told miss him like hell, but you also knew that Poe must be feeling that ten times over.

“You wanna do something tonight?” You asked, changing the subject before his mind drifted to where yours had.

“what kind of something?” he wiggled his eyebrows suggestively,

“Gross”

“hey I'm serious!”

“what about Razor Crest, they are open late, we could grab some drinks and meet up with some people”

Razor crest was the only worth while bar in town; it was certainly nothing to write home about, but it played fairly decent music and it had a marginally less sticky floor than others. Additionally, your other friends lived just over from the humble saloon, making it the perfect watering hole for you guys.

It didn't take much convincing before you had Poe out the door and ready to socialise. Upon arrival, he headed to the bar while you were waved over by Rey, who had already found a booth and was already at least a few drinks in.

“Look, i think i have a solution to your roomie problemo” She told you, peeking over her straw, a gleam in her eye that made you feel not all too confident in her yet to be spoken plan.

“Go on” you told her, cautiously.

“My cousins back in town” She told you between gulps.

“The weird one?” You asked,

“Hes not weird, just ...eccentric” the last word was more of a question, but you could tell she was on a roll,

“He's just joined one of the college bands and Auntie Leia says him and Uncle Han are butting heads”

“ah cool, weve always wanted live music in our own flat at 2 am” Poe injected, rejoining the table and placing a drink in front of you before taking a sip of his own.

“hes not BAD at it, he just plays loud i think” She corrected him, “anyway, he's not a total twat, I'm sure he would be considerate of your sleep schedules”

“didn't he try and stab you with a stick when you were five” you asked her, you'd heard stories of this cousin before and none of them were quite savoury,

“that was ages ago! he's like way old now” she was starting to slur her words, but you had a feeling this was something Rey was quite set on. Rey was stubborn, and when she got something in mind she would move hell to make it happen; she was also your best friend, and someone you trusted the judgment off. Had she gotten you into some weird shit in the past? sure.

Did you have any other options; nay on that.

“Fine, get Han or Leia to bring him round at some point next week and one of us will give him a tour” You tell her, and she lets out a little happy shrill at her own personal win. Poe, not so much.

“Speak for yourself, weirdo cousin can see himself around” he crosses his arms and pouts, you give him a little nudge.

“Hey, maybe you'll be best mates” you offer, but when he shoots you a death stare you go back to your drink.

The family turmoil must have been more vicious than Rey had let in on; It was barely the next morning before you had a tall, intimidating male knocking on your door.

“Hey!” you offered him, in as cheery a voice as your hung over self would allow.

He looked down at you from his towering height, but gave no verbal response.

“You must be Ben?...” He offered you the slightest nod you'd had ever seen in response. Okay so, not much of a talker, noted.

You waved him in, shutting the door behind him. God, he looked even bigger inside? is that possible? Rey had failed to mention the sheer height on the boy. You'd seen pictures of her and her aunt and uncle, it seemed like Ben was a scientific and biological mystery. Like how did he get clothes to fit? did he have to shop somewhere special or

you were snapped out of your thoughts by a clearing of a throat.

“So, how much is the rent” so he DID have a voice,

You informed him automatically, still part dazed.

“Ill be in by the weekend” he told you, and with a nod he moved past you, making his way back to the door.

“But wait .. y .. you haven't even seen your room yet?” You stumbled, dumbfound by the lack of foreplay. The previous people you had shown around were full of questions; they wanted to know the ins and outs of the place. Ben had seen all of the door way and the front room and he was already signing the lease.

“See you then” he didn't stop, hand on the door knob as if you hadn't spoken.

“But i don't have your phone number” you don't know why that came to you first, but it was true. At no point had Rey offered you direct contact with Ben, probably assuming he would. It seemed reasonable, that you'd need his number before he moved in, didn't it? Poe was always texting you about random shit in the flat, arguably too much, but it seemed like the norm for people coexisting in such a small space.

He turned back at you and gave you a confused look,

“why would you need my number?”

“erm... to talk to you” your condescending tone not completely masked,

“but ill be living here” he stated, which, he had you there.

Before you could even think of a response he was out the door.

True to his word, Ben had his things over by that very same weekend. Although it was unsurprising considering just how light he packed. In fact, other than his bass and musical equipment, you couldn't really think of anything he had actually brought with him to the flat. You got to meet his parents when they dropped him off, both of whom seemed leaps and bounds more conversational than their son. Ironically, you got Leia’s phone number before her sons; her telling you to message if you ever needed anything. It felt like an indirect jab at Ben, a ‘if he fucks up let me know’, but you digress. The tension between Ben and his dad was blatantly obvious, them sharing no words before he got back into the car and Ben into the house. He did give his mum a small hug goodbye though, and you thought you saw a small tear in her eye before she managed to wipe it away.

Since his move in, Ben had kept painfully to himself. You barely saw him at all in those first days, just heard him through the walls the odd time he dropped something - or saw a plate or cup gone from their places in the kitchen. To be honest , it felt more like a paranormal haunting than a new roommate. Poe was vocal of his apprehension to the situation, sharing glances with you when you would both be in the living room and you'd see ben scurry by or passive aggressively texting you when his favourite cup had been used by someone who wasn't him. it was a relatively small issue, but Poe had blown it so out of proportion that you had ordered a new set of cups from Amazon and sent him the link, shutting him up for a while before he found something else to complain about.

it was the fifth day before you actually bumped into ben again. He was on the sofa with his base set up, twiddling with his amp. The sight surprised you so much you physically jumped back, causing him to look up. crap. act cool. act cool.

“hey” you offered him

“hi” hi replied back, looking back down at his amp.

right, yer. his space, give him his space. Just get your stuff and go back to your room. don't speak to him, leave him alone. he clearly wants to be left alone.

“nice day isn't it” you wanted to cover your mouth, the words coming out against your will. Truthfully, you had no clue why you said it. You hadn't even looked at the weather this morning. Its just what people say right?

“Erm” his eyes shot to the window and then back to yours,”no”

sure enough, it was pissing it down outside. The sky was actually comically grey and you'd have laughed if you werent so angry at yourself. You were unsure of what to do, and he was still looking at you, almost assessing you. His eyes were so serious and dark they felt like they were burning tiny holes into your skin. shit, you had to speak now right?

While regretting every single life decision that had brought you into this kitchen at this time, Poe sauntered into the room like your night in shining armour, ignoring Ben all together and coming straight over to you, placing a big arm around your shoulders. You saw Ben drop his head back down to this bass, and you used all your might to not let out a sigh of relief.

“Tonight, I'm taking you out” He offered, a cheeky gleam in his eye.

“Are you now”

“Razor crest, drinks and dancing, be there or be square” He lists off as if he's a paid promoter, causing you to let out a giggle.

“Whos invited?”

“just the gang” he said, causing you to shoot him an eye roll, knowing full well you ‘gang’ consisted of all of three people, yourself and Poe included in that number.

but then you remembered, there was another person now, whether they liked it or not. Poe’s eyes followed yours to Ben and then back to meet yours again, you saw the realisation change to disgust, as he shook his head silently at you.

you knew this look, the ‘don't you dare’ look, the ‘not in 1000 years’ look. But you couldn't help it, your lips were moving before you could stop them for the second time this morning.

“Are you free tonight, Ben?’

The look of sheer betrayal on Poe's face made you wince, surely he'd understand right? he knew you well enough to know your verbal diarrhoea problem.

Ben didn't even look up, but he did let out a small laugh that felt quite antagonistic.

“i dont go to Razor Crest”

“i don't go to razor crest ugh” Poe mocked, causing Rey to let out a hysterical giggle, and you a sigh.

You'd been out for all of three hours and you were all already feeling the effects of the alcohol. It was late and the bar was jam packed with students all raring to go. Poe had been making eyes at one particular red head almost all night and you were half surprised he hadn't already made his move. Poe put out, it was a fact. You and Finn had at one time made a fridge chart for him, a gold star awarded every time he brought girl home. Whether the goal was to make him feel proud of his conquests or embarrassed, you still weren't 100% sure, but after a month or so you had both lost count and given up. You told yourself it didn't bother you, that he was just a friend, and that he owed you nothing, but every time he left you at the bar for another girl something stung inside; something you pushed deep down but regrettably was still there none the less.

Sure enough, as the night progressed, you and Rey ended up fending for it alone, and instead of feeling sorry for yourself you decided to do the responsible thing and drink more.

After the third round of shots, Rey calls it in.

“I think I'm gonna be sick” she tells you sheepishly, and you can't help but belly laugh in response. She starts to shuffle towards the door and you go to follow.

“Hey don't leave on my behalf” she tells you earnestly, but you wave her off.

“Nah I've had my fill, I'm starting to forget which flat number i live at” you tell her, causing her to giggle this time.

You both stumble out the bar, past the smokers and up the cobbled road towards her flat. She unlocks her door and lets herself in, not before giving you a drunken hug and a sloppy kiss on the cheek.

As you ready yourself to make your way back to your own flat, you come back past the bar entrance; a particularly prominent cobble causes you to trip ever so slightly and gain a whoop from a group of boys who were passing round a box of marlboro straights.

You suddenly realised just how dark it was and just how alone you were. Most nights you wouldn't stay out this late, and if you did, then you'd normally be walking back with finn. You let out a shiver, a mix of both the cold night air finally breaking through your drunken daze and a smidge of fear. The Razor Crests entrance lights were getting progressively further away, and although you know that you only had a maximum of a half mile walk back to your home, it felt like ample distance to get kidnapped or murdered in, most probably both.

How many true crime stories started with a young drunk girl, scantily clad and out alone at night? You could hear the police reports now, which photo would they use? you prayed it would be a hot one, at the very least one after your thin brow phase.

Being literally bumped back into reality, in almost a cruel humorous way, you felt yourself walk head first into a figure, their arms coming out to catch you as the sheer momentum bounced you back.

Oh god, I'm dead. I'm literally going to die.

“Hey, chill out” The voice made your heart beat both slow and race again,

“Ben?!” you shrieked, voice hoarse through pure anticipation of your thought to be demise

“Are you okay” he asked, and only then did you realise you were shaking like a leaf.

“Im fine” you let out in a small voice, looking down at your shoes. You could feel the redness in your cheeks through pure embarrassment alone. This was not an ideal situation for him to see you in, and you kind of started to with that he had been a murderer, at least then you wouldn't have to deal with the second hand embarrassment in the morning.

“What are you doing out here”

“why are you out alone”

you both asked simultaneously,

“I was coming out for a smoke” He told you, flashing his tobacco pouch at you from inside his coat. His very warm looking coat, might you add. Another shiver ran down your body.

“Im coming home from Razor Crest” you tell him, trying to be matter of fact but slurring your words just enough to spoil the show.

“Yes obviously, but why are you alone” he shoots back in some what of a patronising tone, it wouldn't sit well with sober you and it definitely doesn't go down well with drunk you.

“Im a big girl”

“clearly” he makes, making extra sure to look you up and down from his towering distance above you, causing you to huff.

“well i can take care of myself”

“you shouldn't be out alone around here, its not safe” he ignores your response, looking you dead in the eye.

You feel something inside you flutter, a warmth that you can't quite control. Okay, ben might be weird and a bit annoying it would seem, but he was handsome, thats for sure. The limited light danced off his strong features and dark shaggy mop of hair, making him look both dangerous and appealing.

As if you were standing here mentally flirting with the idea of being with Res cousin; you made a mental note to punish yourself for the ludicrous thoughts in the morning.

“Okay well I'm going home now” you tell him, attempting to push past him, but his large hand finds its way to your forearm and pulls you back,

“yes, you are, come on” If what he said before was patronising, he was now speaking to you like you were a dog he was walking.

“go have your nicotine, ive got this one covered” you tell him with a mock salute, causing him to roll his eyes. He lets go of your arm and you take your win, trying to step confidently away without falling. You're proud of yourself for handling the situation when you realise he's following all of 10 steps behind you, rolling a cigarette in his hands while holding a filter between his teeth.

when he catches you looking, he nods down to his hands,

“want one?” he mumbles between his lips, still holding the filter pride of place.

“no thanks” you snap, picking up pace.

Ben smirks at you, but you miss it, too focused on not embarrassing yourself and keeping your feet in line.

#Star Wars #Star Wars imagine #star wars modern au #kylo ren #kylo ren imagine #kylo ren x reader #Ben solo #ben solo x reader #ben solo x y/n #poe dameron #poe dameron x reader

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fictionplumis · 4 years ago

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A Lambert/Aiden Thing

Okay, bear with me here, this might be long. And maybe at one point I'm gonna try to RP this but unfortunately there's no one on the Lambert/Aiden RP tags on the site I use. So I'm just gonna put this here for now. And if anyone wants to, oh I don't know, write a fic or whatever based on this, PLEASE link me 'cause I wanna read it but anyway.

Set after the Wild Hunt, one of those rare AUs where Aiden genuinely did not survive.

While traveling together as super cool witchers, Geralt ends up telling Ciri all about helping Lambert get revenge for his Cat friend, right?

Time passes, and Ciri starts trying to really solidify her control with her ability. Geralt ends up spending more and more time at Corvo Bianco and Ciri is out on the Path, but every so often a girl needs a break, y'know? So sometimes she'll disappear for a couple days, maybe a few weeks, just off in another world. It's a good way to practice.

In one world, she ends up running into this man named Aiden. (This world being our world. Not a modern Continent thing, not some point in the future, I mean OUR world.) They talk, and he ends up mentioning his roommate Lambert, and the more he says about Lambert, the more it becomes obvious that it's LAMBERT.

Now Ciri has absolutely no intention of doing anything about this. It's not her place, telling Lambert would be an AWFUL idea, and going to meet that world's version of her uncle just seems like a bad idea. But she is curious about what kind of man can inspire such a strong sense of friendship in Lambert, so she decides to pop into that world every so often, "accidentally" find Aiden, and just kind of get to know him a little bit. Plus it's another way to practice her abilities, not just pin-pointing and traveling to a specific world, but to where a specific person is.

She does that on and off a few times, enough where her and Aiden are sort of acquaintances.

Now in this world Aiden isn't a saint, okay? This boy pretty much grew up on the streets. He has a past that he's trying to get away from. He knows his way around a knife fight, has ample experience running from the cops, and has been through so much therapy. (I don’t get into detail here but any kind of modern Aiden I usually have some kind of neurotypical. Might be something as simple as ADHD, though I do love bipolar!Aiden and psychotic!Aiden as well. I’d imagine at this point he’s good at managing it, with the help of therapy and medication. Now the therapy wouldn’t be all that accessible with where this is going, but Ciri could help him make sure he has his medications. Hell, if wanted to have him keep things consistent with his therapy too, he could move down to appointments maybe once a month and Ciri could make sure he could get to them, the same way she helps attain other things later on in this snippet. I absolutely support positive and accurate depictions of mental illness, I’m not just using the terms bipolar or psychotic lightly.) And unfortunately his past ends up catching up with him.

Ciri happens to get there just in time. Before Aiden can end up with a bullet in his eye, she's teleporting him to the first safe place that comes to her mind: Corvo Bianca.

Now poor Aiden has no fucking idea what happened. One second his old "friends" have him backed into a corner with a gun to his face and the next he's experiencing the worst motion sickness of his life and throwing up in a pot that smells like shit. He spends the next two days sleeping off some major jet lag and when he comes to, he had no fucking idea where he is.

Then comes Geralt and Ciri having to awkwardly explain the whole witcher thing to him, the Continent in general, the time period, the fact that monsters and sorceresses and magic exists in this world, all that happy shit. And it's a lot to process. Before they can even get to the whole "do you want to go back to your world and handle the deal with people trying to kill you thing" Lambert shows up.

At first Aiden doesn't even think, he's just like oh thank fuck a familiar face, I know you hate hugs but I think this can be forgiven because I've had the weirdest most stressful week of my life.

And then he's like, wait a second. Lambert is... Thicker.

Like Lambert's always been a very physically active guy, he's a mechanic or whatever you want a modern day Lambert to do, but his shoulders weren't THAT broad before and under those spiky metal arm things are some impressive biceps. Also what are those spiky metal arm things? Lambert, what are you wearing? How the fuck did you get here? Holy shit your eyes--

He puts two and two together. Right, the name Geralt sounded familiar because Lambert's mentioned the name. That's his adopted brother. So if this Geralt is a witcher, then Lambert in this world is a witcher. And Lambert is also having a minor breakdown because, y'know, AIDEN.

Let's just say Geralt warned him. Explained the whole situation and asked Lambert to come back to help with this, and Lambert was very torn because it's not HIS Aiden. It'll hurt too much, to see someone so much like Aiden but just slightly to the left. He knew it would. He just didn’t expect this Aiden to be SO MUCH like his Aiden. By this point Aiden has had to change his clothes into some of Geralt's trousers with a belt to hold them up and a loose tunic, but it's fucking him.

They all talk a bit. Aiden pretty much admits that yeah, there are people after him. And they probably won't stop until he's dead. That's how gangs work, y'know? You can't really... Get out. He tried, he really fucking did, but even if it's not the ones that cornered him before, it'll be someone else. So yeah, Ciri saved his life and going back is probably not the best idea.

Now I absolutely don't want to fuck over another world's Lambert just to make Continent!Lambert happy, so we're gonna say the two were really good friends. They were roommates, they were close, Lambert was pretty much Aiden's only friend, but they weren't lovers. Lambert was with a woman named Keira. A doctor. They were good for each other, y'know? When Lambert first started dating her, Aiden thought she was kind of a bitch but as time went on she kind of mellowed out. It wasn't that she became less full of herself, but more that she actually felt confident enough that she didn't feel the need to try to take on the world anymore. And Lambert's happy with her. So leaving Lambert behind in that world kind of sucks, yeah, but he'll be okay. And this Lambert is so similar that to Aiden, it doesn't feel like he's losing someone.

Now we have Aiden getting to experience the Continent for the first time. Getting to experience witchers for the first time.

Lambert. Sword fighting.

And that's so fucking cool. Can you please teach me that?

Which of course has Lambert a little iffy, because this Aiden is human and no fucking away is he letting this Aiden anywhere near a monster, but Aiden is like, nah, relax, I just want to learn because sword fighting is really cool. Look, I'm really good with a knife, teach me some cool sword stuff.

So Lambert gets to teach Aiden some cool sword stuff. And how to make bombs, which Aiden LOVES. And maybe some alchemy, too, because Aiden asks about the potions and Lambert is very adamant that he never drinks any but Aiden likes at least knowing how to make them. It's fascinating. You all fucking know you would love to make potions out of gross monster parts and herbs if you had the chance, don't even lie. Lambert even shows off some signs and Aiden is delighted.

This eventually leads to one of those serious conversations about what it takes to become a witcher, and what all Lambert went through, and how people view witchers. And Aiden gets it, maybe not completely, but he gets the just of it. Because he knows about the other Lambert's past, and his shitty father, and all that stuff. And Aiden's brown, and people don't like that. And he's gay, and people don't like that either. Lambert's whole thing kind of reminds him of the X-men.

And Lambert doesn't know what the fuck that is so Aiden explains comics and superheroes and the X-men to him.

Because in his world they don't have witchers or magic, so they make up stories that have people like witchers, that have magic, and in those stories, those people sometimes face very similar prejudices. So to Aiden, Lambert is a lot like a superhero.

And Lambert's like uh huh, no way, definitely not any kind of hero, that's pretty boy's job.

To which Aiden responds, no, I definitely think you're a hero, even if you don't, so suck it up.

And they probably kiss and stuff.

Eventually Aiden gets restless and he's curious about the rest of the Continent, and he's tired of wearing Geralt's ill-fitting clothes because he's used to skinny jeans and shit so he gets Lambert to take him into Beauclaire for clothes.

And Beauclaire is fucking beautiful, he loves it.

The clothes are okay. Eventually he just asks Lambert what he used to wear and they go see the armorer instead. Aiden's not entirely sure about it, because Lambert looks like he's swallowed a mouthful of tacks when he sees Aiden in the Cat armor, even without the chest piece or the gauntlets, but Lambert assures him that he's fine.

It just doesn't quite ease the restlessness. So the next time Ciri pops in, Aiden asks for her help and together they scheme. The next day, Aiden tells Lambert to go find something to entertain himself with for awhile because he needs to spend some quality time with his BFF.

A few hours later they find Lambert sulking out in the vineyard, Aiden looking fine and fresh in a brand new pair of skinny jeans that show off his very nice ass, and some well-fitting combat boots that aren't nearly as durable as actual leather boots on the Continent but they have studs and buckles and look really cool.

Lambert is torn between thinking Aiden looks like a fucking idiot and thinking that he's never wanted to fuck Aiden more in his life.

Then Aiden drops the news that he also put together an outfit for Lambert because in his world, when you're interested in courting someone, the first thing you do is take them on a date. And he wants to take Lambert on the most stereotypical first date. What's that? Why the movies, of course! There's an X-men movie that just came out (I don't know which one, okay? I don't watch the X-men. You figure it out.) and he thought, maybe, he could show Lambert a little bit of the world he came from. They wouldn't be there for long, and they wouldn't be going to a theater anywhere near where Aiden's old gang would be. Nothing would be tied to Aiden's name, and he would be with Lambert, so he would be safe.

It's a big change from the Continent.

Lambert's never seen so many fucking people in his LIFE. Aiden had warned him about cars and technology and Lambert is pretty quick witted so while he's absolutely amazed, he manages to take it in stride pretty well. The thing that throws him off the most is when they go to buy popcorn and the girl at the counter goes, "Oh my god, I love your contacts! Where did you get them? They look so real!"

Lambert doesn't know what the fuck contacts are, but Aiden steps in all smooth-like, "Fuck, Lamb, you've had those forever, haven't you? I think he got 'em off some cosplay site."

Then he has to explain later that sometimes people put these little discs in their eye to help them see better or to change the color of their eyes for costume purposes. To which Lambert has the understandable reaction of, "Who in their right fucking mind would CHOOSE to do this to their fucking eyes?"

Well, y'know, they can take contacts out whenever they want. It's a cosmetic thing. They don't know what you had to go through to get your eyes to look like that. You'll probably have some old conservative people eyeing you weird, thinking you're some Satanist or whatever, but most other people will just think it's a cool choice you made, to put those in to go to the movies.

The world is weird. Lambert can't decide if he likes it or hates it.

He definitely likes the movie, though. And the popcorn. Probably finds the soda to be a little too sweet for his taste. There's still a lot of people, which makes him a bit on edge, but they came to the theater at an off time and not many people are actually in the room with them. They sit at the back and hold hands and Lambert decides he loves it. Ciri picks them up like a proud parent driving her kid and her kid's date home, only instead of driving she's teleporting and neither of them are her kids but whatever.

But Aiden isn't done scheming. When they get back he tells Lambert to stay put and gets Ciri to take him back for one more little errand.

A couple hours later they clang back into Corvo Bianco. CLANG back because each of them has a weird metal cart piled high with items and they're laughing their asses off.

So you might be wondering, how did Ciri and Aiden afford clothes? They stole them. How did Aiden afford movie tickets and popcorn? He pick pocketed. Boy grew up on the streets. He knows how to steal wallets. And now they performed the greatest "run out the doors of Walmart with carts full of shit" EVER. Because as soon as they were out of sight, they teleported, no one the wiser.

Aiden is thrilled with his non-purchases. Firstly, he has about a year's worth of toilet paper. he throws a package at Lambert, who's like, what the fuck is this. Toilet paper. What do you use it for? To wipe your ass after you shit, Lambert. Trust me. Once you use it, you'll never go back. It's a blessing, you'll thank me for it. There might not be indoor plumbing here, but god dammit, I want toilet paper.

He then hands Ciri two boxes of pads. Yeah, she was there shopping with him, but he just kind of dumped stuff in carts without explaining anything, and while Ciri knows what most of the things are, do you really think she's thought about how other worlds deal with menstruation? Because I menstruate, and the thought would genuinely not cross my mind. I would continue using whatever method I used back in my original world. So Aiden leans in to whisper what they are, because he's polite, and he becomes her favorite uncle just like that. And when Geralt and Lambert are like, uh, what? She tells them it's for menstruating and, "Oh, don't make that face at me, Geralt. I bleed, it happens."

Aiden admits that most of the other purchases are for Lambert, and when Lambert tires to protest Aiden makes it very clear that everything he bought is NORMAL in his world. Not even luxury, just NORMAL, so Lambert just needs to shut up and let Aiden make his life a little easier.

First up, sunglasses. Because Lambert mentioned how painful it can be to take Cat and then step out into sunlight before the potion has run out. He tosses a pair at Lambert, who tries them on with a frown and is like, "Oh. Huh. Alright. These might actually be pretty useful." Aiden got himself a pair too. They match. There's also a tent. It folds up pretty small, but witchers travel, right? And Lambert mentioned how shit it is to camp in the rain, so here's a tent that’s better than the shit you can buy on the Continent. You lay out your bedroll in it, and you don't have to worry about bugs, and it helps protect you against the weather. It's small, but it looks kind of easy to put up, should be durable enough.

And maybe just big enough for two, because Aiden isn't stupid. Eventually Lambert will need to take to the Path again, and Aiden wants to comes too. He wants to see the Continent. He can't help with the monsters, he knows, but maybe he can do something else to help them earn money. Who knows, right? This world isn't run by capitalism. He could make a living doing nearly anything. He can figure something out.

He even got a water filter, and a couple filter replacements because witchers can probably drink any kind of stagnant water they want but he would rather not die of dysentery, thanks. And he got himself a sleeping bag. And he got Lambert a very, very soft fleece blanket just because he thought Lambert would like it. (He does.) Oh, also, Lambert, smell this soap. And this shampoo. Using a bar of soap has not done Aiden's hair any favors, he got actual fucking shampoo. The BIG bottle. And now Lambert has some nice pomade to use in his hair instead of bear fat. Won't make his hair greasy plus it smells better. Also there's bubble bath, just because. And beard oil for Lambert. Some moisturizer. Here, Lambert, put on some chap stick. Trust me, you'll love it.

They set out on the Path and it's not always easy because Aiden worries CONSTANTLY. But Lambert is good at what he does. The few times they're ambushed, Lambert always keeps Aiden safe, because in this household everyone fucking survives.

Aiden likes seeing Lambert in action. He swoons and calls Lambert his hero.

There are some stunning places to visit on the Continent. Aiden's favorite are the elven ruins they sometimes come across. Only after Lambert deals with the wraiths, though.

Aiden learns how to play Gwent. He's not that good at it. Aiden learns how to cheat at Gwent. He's VERY good at it. Lambert teaches him how to fish with bombs. Aiden is fucking delighted.

Eventually he realizes how he can make money. He copywrites Disney.

He's no bard. He can't sing or play an instrument. But he CAN tell stories, and no matter how much you hate Disney, there are probably a lot of Disney movies everyone can quote by heart, and they're either already time-period approved, or they can easily be adapted into something time period approved. Lambert comes back from a hunt to find the entire tavern listening to Aiden with rapt attention while he's in the front of the room putting on a one man performance of the whole, "I am Inigo Montoya, you killed my father, prepare to die," while jumping back and forth to play each part. He's clearly having a blast with it, because who doesn't love telling other people every little detail about their favorite movie?

As he's heading upstairs with Lambert, he just keeps raving about how he can't believe he actually made money with that. He hands Lambert a handful of coins, just like, "I don't know how much money this is, but look, it's money!"

Which probably leads to some conversation about capitalism and how easy it was in his world to feel insignificant, to feel like everything is pointless, and how much happier he is with Lambert. How it's even given him a new outlook on the world he came from. He doesn't want to go back, per se, but he doesn't want to completely leave either. He wants to show Lambert the best parts of it, to re-experience his world through Lambert, to really feel the amazement of it all the way he's supposed to, the way that's so easy to stop doing when you're actually living there. It's so easy to take it all for granted, but when you're showing it to someone who's experiencing it for the first time, you can really appreciate it all.

So every winter they head back to Toussaint and Ciri takes them back long enough for them to do something FUN. They play laser tag. They rope Geralt, Eskel, and Ciri into doing an escape room with them. They go kayaking. They do one of those rope courses and zip-line things. They go to an amusement park. A water park. They walk around a nature trail. They go to a comic convention. (Lambert wears his armor and so many people want pictures with him. He's just sad Aiden wouldn't let him bring his swords, the kids would have fucking loved to see a sword.) They have so much fun. And Aiden stocks up on modern supplies for the year while he's there. Another year's worth of toilet paper, a new tent, another fuzzy blanket, a few pairs of sunglasses because Lambert always ends up breaking his, a nice backpack because Lambert really likes having a bunch of different pockets in his bag for organizing things.

And you know what? Give it ten years, Aiden's bordering on his forties, and he finds some way to make himself functionally immortal. Magic, fairies, a curse, a blessing, I don't know, I don't care. Their plan becomes to live until one of them dies of something--probably Lambert, because he's the one Aiden always has to patch up (he now always buys a very large, well stocked first-aid kit from his world too) what with fighting monsters and all, and the other will follow. It's morbid, sure, but it works for them. With the way things are going, neither of them thinks they'll need to do that anytime soon anyway.

Basically, they live happily ever after, okay?

HAPPILY EVER AFTER.

#laiden #lambden #lamden #the witcher #lambert aiden

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thiswasinevitableid · 4 years ago

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7. Leshen Indruck your choice of rating!

Here you go! I went with SFW

It’s old wisdom that humans fear that which they do not understand.

Indrid really hoped he would never learn the truth of that wisdom the hard way, but here he is. One misplaced attempt at aiding someone using his foresight and he’s been caught, blindfolded, and dumped in the middle of the vast Monongahela Forest.

He just wanted to help.

His foresight renders him less fearful than he’d otherwise be; he’ll be able to see threats coming and locate the resources he needs. If he takes his time, he might be able to use his visions to locate the nearest (friendly) village. And, like anyone who grew up near the woods, he knows how to hunt, fish, and forage. For someone who’s been left to die, he’s rather confident.

Still, it sting a little.

After a few moments of rightfully-earned self-pity, he buttons up his coat and starts the slow, halting journey towards safety.

Two days later, he’s pushing his way through branches and miserably pointing out to himself again and again that a town where everyone grew up with basic forest survival skills would exile one of their own somewhere that required high-level survival skills.

The topography and scenery is so disorienting that he may have better luck if he covered his eyes, spun around ten times, and chose his path from there. It’s a dense landscape of deep greens and browns with splashes of bright color that he’d no doubt enjoy were he not constantly snagging on branches or catching his toes on roots.

Worse, he’s had no luck catching food, and cannot for the life of him locate water. The fact it rained last night is the only reason he’s not dangerously dehydrated.

A sharp, high chirp draws his eye to the foot of a tree. Flapping sparsely feathered wings, a baby bird hops through the mud, her nest visible but unreachable. A meager meal, but a meal nonetheless.

Indrid scoops her into his palms, clambers into the lowest crook of the tree, and sets her back among her siblings.

His stomach chastises him the rest of the day, though the rest of his body rejoices when he finds a hollow in the base of a tree large enough for him to shelter within. From within the trunk, he spies vine sprawling across the ground, berries glinting in the light rain. Deep purple, meaning they’re Brambleberries.

The handful he shoves into his mouth brings tears to his eyes, even though they’re not the ripest. How else do you explain the bitterness chasing the sweetness down his throat.

Wait. Brambleberries don’t go purple until mid-summer. This is early spring. Which means those were-

“Chokeberries.” He curses himself, darting outside the tree once more, finger down his throat until his meal comes back up. Maybe he was fast enough.

His throat tightens in a prelude to closing. Sinking to his knees, gasping for air, he swears the ground vibrates with heavy steps. His eyes flutter close as he falls forward. As darkness slips over his eyes, he thinks it’s taking him a long time to hit the ground.

-------------------------------------------------------------------

Bitter metal on his tongue.

“Nnnnf” Eyes still shut, he pushes at whatever is holding the spoon and it’s vile contents in his mouth.

“None of that. You’re gonna need two more doses of this before that Chokeberry is outta your system, and they were hard enough to get into you when you were passed out. Swallow.”

He swallows.

A large hand pats his head, “There we go. I know, shit’s gross, but if you were fool enough to eat those berries, might stun some sense into you.”

Indrid sits up, rubbing his eyes, “I was delirious with hunger, forgive me for not remembering the exact seasons of fruits. Did you heal me only to insult me or-” his visions flicker back full force, revealing his host before he opens his eyes. He scrambles back, but instead of a wall or an edge he just finds a vast expanse of bed.

Watching him with an amused set to his lips is a man three heads taller and much bulkier than Indrid, dark hair streaked with grey-green moss, eyes the dark green of pine needles, and nails like treebark. He crosses arms tattooed with green, gold, and bronze swirls, waiting for Indrid to collect himself.

“A Leshen.”

“Yep.”

“Are...are you going to eat me?”

“What? No, I’m not gonna fuckin eat you. I don’t know which of my kind chowed down on humans but if I ever find out I’m gonna give ‘im a piece of my mind. Ain’t great to have people thinkin I’m a man-eater when the worst I done is throw a tree at someone.”

“That is still very alarming.”

The Leshen shrugs “I’m a forest guardian; I’m gonna guard.”

Indrid studies him, wary, drawing the covers up his chest without noticing.

“Look” the Leshen sighs, “I ain’t tryin to scare you. Hell, made myself the smallest I can so I could be all comfortin. Noticed you in the woods earlier today and kept an eye on you, since humans-”

“Don’t often come here, yes, I am aware. I was extremely, forcibly exiled into your part of the woods.”

Green eyes blink, “Huh. Well, point is it didn’t seem right to leave you there to die, so I brought you here. Chokeberry is real easy to undo, assumin you got the right herbs.”

“Thank you.” He doesn’t know what else to say. His foresight tells him the Leshens promise of no harm is true, but there are so many timelines for what he could say and how his host could respond that he freezes.

“You’re welcome. You got a name?”

“Indrid.”

“You oughta rest up more, Indrid. I’ll be back with the next dose in a bit.” His host steps out to the hall.

“Wait, do I, ah, get to know your name?”

“Duck.”

He snickers, replies to the raised eyebrow with, “Apologies, I expected something tree-related.”

Duck smiles, “It’s a nickname.”

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------

“What’s your plan?” Duck asks from across the breakfast table. The morning found Indrid well enough to walk and to eat without feeling ill, so he’s been perching awkwardly on a chair that’s too big for him as the Leshen makes plates of toast and eggs that don't come from any bird Indrid is familiar with.

“I, ah, I don’t really have one other than ‘avoid going home’.”

“You were just gonna wander around until you found a village? I hate to tell you this, but there ain’t one for at least fifty miles, and I’m guessin that’s the one you came from. They must’ve used and enter to navigate here, because this part of the woods is hostile to travel by design.”

“Yours?” Indrid sips his tea, face to hide his distaste for its bitterness.

“Yep.” Duck slides a jar over to him, it’s copper lid revealing sugar cubes within, “Don’t much feel like runnin into humans every damn day, and it means that even as y’all sprawl out more and more, there are parts of this wood that stay wild.”

“I appreciate the sentiment, but it does little to improve my situation. Unless…” he bites his lip.

“Unless?”

“Unless I could stay here. I’m not bad company, and I have some skills which could-”

“No” Duck shakes his head, “savin you is one thing, takin you on as a roommate is all whole other kettle of fish.”

“Ah. Right. Of course.” He sips his tea, reflection crestfallen. Maybe he’ll just finish this and then go back to sleep.

Duck sighs, expression one of someone who already regrets the offer he’s about to make, “You can stay here for a month. After that, I’ll get you as close to a safe village as I can, and you’re on your own. Deal?”

Indrid grins, appetite returning in full, “Deal.”

-------------------------------------------------------------

Duck has a good guess as to what’s making all the scratching and clanging in his kitchen, but it’s still a surprise to see Indrid moving from counters to chairs doubling as stools to tend a pot that he can barely peer into.

The human’s gotten nimble over the last week and a half, thanks to his routine attempts to help Duck around the house. Everything is scaled to Duck’s smallest possible form, but that still leaves Indrid at a disadvantage.

He’d be more inclined to help him if it wasn’t so obvious that his help is a ploy to convince Duck to let him stay. Look, he feels bad for the guy, but humans don’t have a great track record with his kind and he generally likes his peace and quiet out in the woods. He also notices that, left to his own devices, Indrid is messy. The area around the couch he uses as a bed is strewn drawings and unfolded clothes that Duck conjured up. Which means this is about Ducks favor, not a commitment to household cleanliness.

That’s not to say having Indrid around has been unpleasant; the human is good company but also understands Ducks' need for space. He’s odd, and even though the foresight was the given reason, Duck suspects his fellow villagers would have found reason to exile him regardless. Indrid even said that living with Duck was the happiest he’d felt in some time. That wasn’t a ploy; Indrid is prone to saying unnerving statements without registering them. Thorns pricked Duck’s heart when he heard it and, that night, when Indrid fell asleep on the bed during their conversation about deer, he didn’t move him. Just brushed the white hair from his eyes and laid down a respectful distance away.

“Oh! We’re in the timeline when you’re early.” Indrid waves distractedly as he wrestles open a jar, “I checked on you during the day through my visions and it looked as though you got drenched, so I thought something warm was in order.”

He’s smiling, and Duck’s gaze lingers long enough to see there’s no trickery in it. Yeah, being a forest spirit means storms are refreshing more than freezing, but the one today was so relentless he felt like it was eroding him away.

“Thanks, Indrid. I’ll join you in a sec.”

The next morning, before he leaves he forms some nearby stumps into a proper step-stool, and transmogrifies the minerals of the earth into a solid set of human sized pots and pans.

-------------------------------------------

“I know you’re there, Duck. I may not have eyes in the trees, but I do have visions that tell me when someone is dithering about coming to speak with me.” Indrid smiles, checking the fishing pole he’s dug into the shore. He feels rather than hears Duck approach; in spite of his size, the Leshen moves through the woods more softly than a butterfly.

“Guess those visions do make you harder to spy on than the average human.”

“A not at all creepy statement.” Indrid teases, then tips over when Duck playfully shoves him.

“Shit, sorry.”

“It’s alright” he brushes off his arm, “the sand is nice and warm.” He picks up his sketchbook (stray pieces of paper sewn together) and pens (Duck turned flowers, fruit, leaves, and wood into them until Indrid had every color) and continues drawing. Half the reason he likes fishing is that he can draw futures (and for his own pleasure) while he does it. The other half is that he doesn’t want Duck to view him as a parasite in his home. Yes, for the first week, he did everything he could to demonstrate that he would make an excellent addition to the house made of twisting trunks and mossy floors.

Now, though, he just wants to enjoy his time with Duck, even if that means not tidying constantly or cooking every meal. He hopes Duck enjoys it too, regardless of whether he lets Indrid stay. The Leshen is lonely, even if it only comes through on those days when his voice is like the wind through a weather-beaten log. Indrid wishes he knew how to assuage it, but a month is not long enough to learn such things.

He’s slept in Duck’s bed these last three nights. It’s not purposeful, Duck is just so interesting to talk with and Indrid will lose sight of the time, will slump sideways and mumble that he ought to turn in, and then wake up in the early hours atop his host. It didn’t occur to him until this morning that Duck does that to keep Indrid from being uncomfortably squashed by his larger bedmate. And that Duck chooses to do that rather than carry Indrid to his own bed.

“Hey, uh, ‘Drid?” Duck’s voice brings him back to the riverside, “would you, uh, wanna come with me on my rounds sometimes? Might be some nice things to draw, and that foresight of yours could be real helpful with some of the stuff I need to keep an eye on.”

His host looks nervous until Indrid nods, “I would be honored.”

--------------------------------------------

Never has the folding of clothes made him so miserable. Yet still he tucks the garments into the large-but-manageable rucksack Duck gave him, placing his sketchpad safely between the layers of fabric.

“Weather oughta be good tomorrow.” His visions show Duck behind him, rubbing the back of his neck. He’s going to miss that voice, the way leaves rustle underneath the drawl.

“That’s good.” He pulls the ties on his rucksack, sets at the end of the couch but doesn’t turn around.

“I’d, uh, say you’re welcome to visit but, uh, well, you know how fuckin hard this place is to find.”

“Mmmm.” Indrid wants him to go, wants him to be brusque or happy, not awkwardly fond in a way that gives false hope of shared affection.

“‘Drid there’s, there’s somethin I wanna, that is I’m thinkin...aw, fuck it.”

Indrid yelps as arms nearly as big around as he is scoop him up. Duck’s lifted him to examine flowers or see over trees, but the hugging is new.

“Duck?” Carefully, he drapes his arms over his shoulders.

“Don’t go.”

“I don’t want to.” Duck always smells faintly of pine needles and green wood, and Indrid buries his face in his neck, inhaling in hopes of remembering it forever.

“Then stay. I changed my mind, ‘Drid, life is so much better with you around.”

“Okay” Indrid can’t get his voice above a whisper; this wasn’t in the timelines, which means Duck changed his mind at the literal last moment.

“Really? You wanna stay?” Duck shifts him back, Indrid functionally sitting on his forearm with his legs half wrapped around his chest.

The seer summons his courage, finds it lacking, and so closes his eyes before going in for a kiss. His lips find Duck’s cheek until a firm hand cups the back of his head, guiding their mouths together. At this size, their mouths are compatible even as Indrid remains pleasantly dwarfed. Duck breaks the kiss first but Indrid, hell-bent on making up for lost time, continues kissing his face until they’re both laughing.

Duck kisses his forehead, “I’m gonna take that as a yes.”

#indruck #indrid cold/duck newton #monster march #reader requests #leshen

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mkstrigidae · 4 years ago

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Okay so I'm making my way through your masterlist and I'm in love?? Like let's start off with Winter's Child- a masterpiece. You make Sansa a loving and relatable character and interweave the powers into cannon in a way that actually makes cannon make more sense (preconceived biases and such). Jon and Sansa's relationship is SO SWEET and they way they bonded was absolutely adorable (and the backstory with the houses and the powers they have make so much sense) 1/3

(2/3) Neon Rain literally the best Cyberpunk AU! I've ever read. Like what you did with the world building?? The stark class differences (haha see what I did there?), the choices in SOUND, and I could FEEL myself there! I love the family dynamics between the Starks and I'm loving the little details you're dropping with the Greyjoy's , Jon's parentage, and all of the medical procedures. Jon is dramatic af and I love it and Sansa is a bamf AS SHE SHOULD. Nothing but love for this

(3/3) A Past Worth Having has a special place in my heart. You build up this setting like a tapestry, just seeing more richness and depth the longer you look. I'm proud of Sansa for holding her composure, just FEELING in the angst that the older Starks feel at her return, and loving the relationships with Robin and the rest of the Starks + Jon Arryn. The detail that you're putting into the investigation/Oberyn is awe inspiring and I can't wait to see what you do next with the trial + Jonsa

Haha thank you so much!!! This is such a sweet ask to get! My response is under a cut, because this might get kind of long! (lots of my own meta below, bc i accidentally had a lot to say, haha)

With ‘Winter’s Child’ I’ve really enjoyed weaving in fantasy elements to the world because I like to look at stories and pick at loose threads until they unravel and asking ‘what if?’. I thought it would be a super interesting concept to take a character like Sansa, who in ASOIAF is exactly what she is supposed to be as a noblewoman of her class and conforms very well in that role, and put her in a position where she was essentially a societal outcast in a lot of ways! In WC, Sansa has a lot of similar coping mechanisms to ASOIAF Sansa, in that she sort of romanticizes society to avoid thinking about how absolutely awful it is. In ASOIAF, Sansa holds tight to the notion of knights and chivalry and courtly love to cope with the fact that she essentially has no control over her future and, as a woman, is basically property. In WC, I have her really struggling to make herself into that perfect lady and using that as a sort of shield to the fact that, without a gift, there isn’t anything she can do to improve her lot in life. Sansa has these ideas about becoming a perfect lady and hoping that being perfect in other areas will ‘make up’ for what society perceives as deficient about her, but is more jaded than ASOIAF Sansa due to her age and her earlier exposure to the ills of society. So you get a Sansa who gets along better with Arya and Jon as a result, in part because she’s had that exposure to what it’s like to be an outcast in society. I think that the best fantasy has a really strong emotional backdrop (a really great example is ‘Fruits Basket’ which starts by hooking you with this wacky, fun premise about people in a family turning into animals when hugged by a member of the opposite sex, and slowly builds into a point where you can see that the family ‘curse’ is a representation of generational and familial abuse- of bonds that should be broken, and of bonds that may kill us even as we cling to them- it’s extremely complex and rich and if you haven’t read or watched it, I can’t recommend it highly enough), and so while I really love writing about the fantasy aspects, and writing scenes where Sansa does really cool things with her ice powers, the core of the story is really about Sansa coming into her own, and learning that she was a person who was worth something even without any sort of gift. Sort of overcoming societal stigma and realizing your worth and forcing others to see it. It’s so much fun to write, but i’m stuck at the moment, because i need to reread the books, and my roommate is borrowing them right now haha!

God, APWH is like, indulging my inner world-building suspense-narrative loving writer persona. It’s literally my all time favorite trope- which is of someone growing up to find out that they’re a long-lost somebody or have family they never knew about- combined with a lot of research on trauma (which i’ve been doing for academic and other reasons for a while) and a lot of slowly growing psychological horror courtesy of Petyr Baelish (trust me, it’s going to get WAY more intense). There are so many pieces of media that I love, but I think that GRRM has so many characters and such a well fleshed out world that it’s very fun to dive into his worlds and create something there. Inherently, I love a slowly unraveling mystery and morally gray characters, and this is allowing me to indulge in both!!! World-building is my favorite, because i tend to be fairly detail oriented, and i’ve been laying bread crumbs in so many places throughout the story to hopefully build up to a decent conclusion! I know sort of how it ends, and I think people are going to absolutely lose their minds if I execute it correctly. We have a few chapters to go until we get to anything in the semblance of a trial- there’s some more emotional aspects that I think need to get addressed first, and so I’m so grateful that people are so supportive of being willing to wait for the Jonsa, because they really start spending a lot of time with each other during the trial and prior to the trial (i’m a big believer in bonding via long car rides and so there’s a lot of that!). I’m just so humbled and awed by the response to it- I never dreamed that people would enjoy the story this much- when I started it, I was writing a light-hearted family piece that wouldn’t be too long, and, uh, it kind of evolved from there. Clearly, I am not good at keeping things concise haha.

I left Neon Rain for last, because your comments on this one really made me smile! Of all of my stories, oddly enough, Neon Rain is actually the most deeply personal for me, and I’m just so flattered at your kind words! I spend a lot of my time thinking about the flaws inherent in our society, and without getting too detailed, Sansa’s experience with a family member struggling in the medical system is not unfamiliar to me. There’s a weight that comes with the realization that a system that is supposed to care for people is based on capitalistic ideals of profit maximization, and as someone who has experience working in the healthcare system- no matter how bad you think it is in the US, I can promise you it’s actually worse.

Neon Rain actually just started out as a series of mental images from listening to music that I had to get down on paper, and evolved from there. I actually really love the ‘soulmates’ and ‘class differences’ and ‘mastermind art thief’ tropes, but am incapable of writing fun stories without thinking about the reality of those tropes (see APWH for another extreme example of this haha), and so as I was writing and trying to capture this mental image, the rest of the world began unfolding around me. Jon is different because of a different upbringing here, and so is Sansa, and to see the formerly idealistic Sansa become so jaded by the time she meets her soulmate is just catnip for me. You have this interesting dynamic between them, because Jon wants nothing more than to have Sansa in his life, and give her everything she wants and needs, but where the old Sansa (who was arguably middle-class and somewhat naive, as financially secure teenagers understandably tend to be) would have swooned over that, the Sansa who meets Jon when the story begins is seeing the world and all the unfair and unequal systems in it. She can’t just live happily ever after with him right away- there’s a sense of guilt there, of sansa not feeling like she deserves nice things, and there’s also Sansa’s deep sense of compassion and kindness that won’t allow her to just live life as the well taken-care-of girlfriend of a wealthy man, because she isn’t able to just put on blinders and pretend that all the injustice in the world around her doesn’t exist, simply because it wouldn’t affect her that way anymore.

I think that the core to writing Sansa, for me, in any universe, is that she is a kind and compassionate person who is capable of feeling sympathy towards even the people who have done horrific things to her and her family- that emotional awareness and empathy is a harsh thing to have in a world like Neon Rain, and in our own world, honestly. I’m so glad that you appreciate Sansa’s BAMF-ness in the story- I think that her chapters demonstrate that she is capable of doing extraordinary things when she’s doing them for people she cares for, to be kind (The scene where Alayne helps Robin down from the eyrie is most indicative of this I think), and so in this world, I just love having Sansa be a complete badass out of necessity. Also, it’s fanfiction, and I really wanted to give Sansa a cool motorcyle, because no one else was gonna do it!!!

Also, my characters like to run away with me, and before I knew it, Rodrik Greyjoy had a huge adorable crush on Sansa in the story that I immensely enjoy writing. The Greyjoys are fun because they’re all absolutely insane, and i’m a total sucker for ‘gruff dangerous character is completely a sucker for the kind sunshine-y character’ trope.

God, this accidentally got really long??? I’m sorry- thank you so much for such a kind ask!!! I love hearing what people think of my stories, and this was so sweet :)

#my writing #joanofarkansass #ask answers

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jjuzoir · 5 years ago

Text

To Date Itaru Chigasaki

Request: “insert here”

A/N: I had to split the request in 2 posts!! due to formatting 🙇‍♀️ so sorry!!

- You two met at a gaming shop!

- You were looking for a gift for your best friend’s younger sister, as much as you liked games yourself- buying one for a 12 year old was another story.

- You were freaking out- you had been in the store for almost an hour searching and nothing would come up.

- You were afraid of not getting a gift at all- that is until you felt a tap from a man in a suit.

- “You look like you’re ten seconds away from crying,” Itaru looked at you, “Need some help?”

- He didn’t know why he’d helped you, you were kind of cute and, unlike with other things, he was a bit more open to helping others when it came to video games.

- “Please,” you turned around, “I need a game for a 12 year old but I just don’t know! I-I don’t want her to think I think she’s a child but she can’t play anything too… you know, grown up or else her parents will kick my ass.” You whine, maybe if things had gone better you’d be embarrassed but embarrassment is simply something you cannot feel right now, you’re against the clock and you’re tired.

- “Hmm, a 12 year old girl… thought about Puppy Crossing?”

- And that’s how you spent the next 30 minutes, discussing a game for the kid with a 20-something year old blue collar.

- By the end you had bought the gift plus a recommendation Itaru had given you based on your short, but surprisingly sweet, interaction.

- The second time you met was, again, at the store but this time it was for you instead of a kid. Thankfully.

- He was wearing another suit, you guessed he really was an office worker; what was he doing here though? What business would guy with such a high paying job, you assumed by his suit and clothes, have in such a small game store in the middle of a gaming street.

- You shrugged it off before returning to browsing, you really shouldn’t judge.

- After a few minutes he noticed you and approached you asking about the game he’d recommended for the girl last time. After gladly informing him about the success the gift had- both of you quickly began talking about the game he’d recommended you.

- After that you two began meeting up in the shop- not on purpose or anything, it just kind of happened.

- In most situations he might’ve been annoyed but for some reason he couldn’t really bring himself to be mad. He enjoyed being able to shamelessly talk about games, online and competitive, pay to win or free to play, with a cute person who didn’t judge him.

- It became a weekly occurrence and you really enjoyed it. Eventually he asked you out on a date, it’d be in an internet cafe near the store, and you said yes.

- You were looking forward to being able to know him better, not in a store or just as friends but maybe… as a possible s/o? You slap your cheeks at the thought, silly [Name], that wouldn’t happen... right?

- That is until he called in sick stating he had grown ill with the flu and you were worried, he sounded like he was in hell based on the phone call. He was coughing, his voice sounded muffled, he kept sneezing too, you were surprised he could even dial with how bad he sounded.

- When you tried to call him his number went straight to voicemail so you did what anyone would do;

- You called in to his home number (which he had given you when he gave you his business card, yes he gave you his business card instead of giving you his phone number like a normal person).

- “Hello, Izumi Tachibana speaking.” Your heart kind of stops when you hear a woman’s voice and you wonder if maybe you’d been a side piece, but thinking back to Itaru and how he acted with you - you doubted it.

- “Izumi? Ah, eh… is a Itaru Chigasaki there?”

- “Itaru? Yes, I can give him a message, who’s calling?”

- “Ah, tell him it’s [Name] from the store, I was just worried about him…”

- “[Name], huh? Wait, you mean you’re [Name] [Last Name]?”

- “Ehh… yes?”

- Turns out Itaru had told his roommate maybe wife maybe kid(?) about you?

- You didn’t know he had roommates, he looked well off so why couldn’t he afford a house? Maybe she was a girlfriend and they were in a open relationship? So many questions…

- You thought you wouldn’t really mind but it turns out your cheeks were now bright red when Izumi explained how Itaru had been talking about you often and promptly invited you to check up on Itaru, who was in fact ill. She also gave you a rundown of the situation, turns out he was part of some acting company and she was the director, so with a lighter heart you decided to take her up on going over to check on him.

- Big mistake.

- You were going to stop by after work, you decided, you’d also go and buy him some soup for his stomach just in case. You arrived at the house and welcomed inside by a smiling Tachibana and a strange bird before you were given a rundown of some rules.

- “Knock first, always knock first. If you hear anything between a grunt or a yes you’re in the clear, if you hear anything like a groan or a curse wait before knocking again. If you happen to hear something falling over or a scream I’ll text you when it’s safe for you to come over again. You seem like a nice person, so please don’t forget any of the rules! Now- go!”

- She quickly pushed you in front of the door and knocked for you before bolting behind the stairs, you received a quick thumbs up before she hid again.

- You were now alone in a dorm room looking for a grown man who had called in sick to a date with you, this wasn’t exactly how you thought your friday evening was going to go. You knock the door and put your ear next to the wood… no grunt, had Izumi explained what a no-grunt meant?

- You look at her general direction where she looks confused but encourages you to go in, so you shrug it off before turning the handle around - you end up falling over when the door is opened by the man of the hour himself.

- “Oi, Izumi- now that this match is over you can come in with the-! Ah… [Name], this is… embarrassing,” Itaru had turned around ready to scold Izumi when instead he came to see you.

- He looked like shit- he really did, not only because he was sick but because his room was a mess. You knew he liked gaming but this… this was too extreme, was this what they called a gap moe?

- “What the hell…?”

- He invites you in quickly- shoving chips and cans left and right before sitting you down on a couch.

- “What are you doing here- ACHOO!”

- You explained how worried you were about him- how he didn’t answer your calls and so you came to visit with soup (you felt the need to highlight the soup).

- He thanked you for the thought before looking around the room awkwardly remarking it’d be best you left- the flu was contagious after all.

- It was an awkward reaction, even for him- something Izumi doesn’t fail to note once you leave, unlike when anyone else would come in; Itaru couldn’t find it in himself to scold you or threaten you with an immediate and painful death.

- You leave the room quickly and wave goodbye- but not before he slips you a note with a bunch of numbers scribbled on.

- When you arrive home that night you finally realise what it said; it was his friend code.

- And that’s how your first date was on a island in ACNH he made for the date. And that’s how he asked you out too.

- Fucking nerd.

- You were crafting some furniture for your island (which he had happily helped you plan out) when he asks you out via chat.

- Your response? You used the shocked and glad reactions, the only valid reaction.

- Dating him includes video game dates; any server based game multiplayer is used to seeing you two doing some cringe couple shit.

- You will have to bathe him, he can go days without taking a bath so get ready to shove him in a tub.

- He’s not very good at being a boyfriend sometimes, he struggles in the emotional aspect. He’ll base himself a lot in dating sims, like it’s kind of cute but it can be scary if he uses the wrong dating sim.

- Will kabedon you for 2 reasons and 2 reasons only; one, he genuinely wants to know if it works like ??? does it really make people swoon is it really that cool ?? and two, it’s been a life long dream of his let him have this.

- Itaru can be both mature and kind of childish, you’ll have to stomach a lot of tantrums when you get in the way of gaming. But he’s also not a kid, he can be surprisingly mature when he wants to.

- He takes the relationship very seriously, most of the time; he genuinely likes you and he tries to leave gaming but he struggles.

- So, you decide to combine two things; you + games. You’ll go visit him often and play games together on his couch.

- He’s so fucking happy when you do that, it’s cute. He doesn’t mind you using his clothes but do not touch his yellow-tiger bomber jacket he only uses when gaming. Do not.

- Itaru will let you play with his hair while he plays games, he lets you use butterfly clips and shit too.

- Just don’t expect him to go out like that he’ll fucking riot.

- “Banri will freak out-“ “Omi bring the camera Itaru has fucking butterfly-clips on, Taichi film this shit- he’s wearing clips! And they’re buttefly ones, funniest shit I’ve seen!”

- Banri 100% teases the fuck out of him when it comes to you but Itaru will come back with some cheesy shit to make him uncomfortable.

- “It’s not my fault we two fell in love-“

- “I swear to fucking god if you go on another rant I’ll destroy you and your whole blood line with my pinky.”

- The dorm is kind of surprised how much more social Itaru can be with you- they’re so used to seeing him shut himself in with games, but now that you two are together he comes out more often to spend time with you.

- He can be kind of cold and emotionally distant but after awhile you learn that that’s just how Itaru works. He’s kind of aloof and awkward and he can come off as rude sometimes? He just be like that you know.

- That both the shut-in gamer and businessman are the same guy and that you… l*ve him for it.

- Play games with him please- just do it.

#—🎀 a3!#a3 #a3!#act addict actors #a3 itaru #itaru chigasaki #itaru chigasaki x reader #itaru x reader #—✒️ sora’s scripts #—💌 mysterious messenger!#—📨 request

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callboxkat · 5 years ago

Text

Infinitesimal (part 53)

Author’s note: Have some more quarantine reading! I hope all of you are staying safe and healthy.

Warnings: injuries, illness, fear/nervousness, food mention

Word count: 4206

Infinitesimal Masterpost!

...

The apartment door swung open with a click. Shopping bags rustled, crinkling and bumping together as they were carried inside. Most of the bags were held by one of the two young men who stepped inside the apartment. Roman always insisted that he could bring everything up in one trip, no matter how many bags’ worth of goods they purchased. It had been amusing for Logan to watch his attempt at the previous year’s Thanksgiving, when they had hosted a dinner for their college friends. Logan had had to step in to save the turkey from toppling down the staircase.

“See? I’ve got it.”

“I’m aware you can carry a frankly ridiculous amount of groceries. I’m simply unsure if it is wise to do so, given your recent bout of asthma.”

“Nonsense! I’m healthy as a noble knight’s steed!”

“…Regardless, you should be careful.”

“Well, you could have taken more bags.”

“Unlike you, I have no irrational need to prove myself by carrying two trips’ worth of groceries at once.”

“But I only had to take the stairs once!” Roman pointed out, grinning his winning smile as he struggled to disentangle the various handles that adorned his arms. “Isn’t that better for my asthmatic lungs?”

Logan sighed, watching Roman struggle to set down his burden of grocery bags. A few cans clacked together as they collided with the counter.

“I do hope you’ll be careful with that one. The bagger really should have double bagged it, or used one of my reusable bags. This is why I prefer the self-checkout lanes.”

“Because you’re a control freak?” Roman set down the rest of his cargo and let out a relieved sigh.

Logan was already pulling out items and putting them away in the cabinets. “If wanting to ensure that our groceries make it back to the apartment without the bags splitting is being a control freak, then I suppose I am.”

Roman cackled, rubbing at the red marks where the plastic bags had bitten into his skin. “He admits it!”

“Are you going to help me put these away or not?”

“Sure, sure. Move over so I can reach the fridge.”

Logan moved aside. Roman helped put things away, but once most of the frozen goods were put away, Roman tried to sneak off, insisting on, quote, “saying hi to our little friends”.

“Not so fast,” said Logan, grabbing his wrist, not about to let his roommate skip out and leave him to put everything else away on his own. “You can greet them when we’re done here.”

…

Where was Patton?

He’d been gone for hours. Yes, a trip to the fourth floor and back would take some time; and, sure, he hadn’t been gone much longer than should be expected for a trip there and back, considering the fact that he needed more breaks than Emile or himself; but Virgil was getting worried. What if something had gone wrong? What if he’d overexerted himself, or gotten hurt somehow?

Virgil shouldn’t have let him go alone.

Maybe he was worried over nothing, but Virgil’s past experiences made him reluctant to brush off his worries. Emile’s current condition was a testament to that.

It only made him worry more, that the humans had beaten Patton back. They hadn’t come into the room where they were yet, but Virgil had wanted his friend back well before the humans returned. He was tempted to go and look for him, to make sure he was okay, but he couldn’t and wouldn’t leave Emile here alone.

So, all he could do was uselessly pace back and forth, between his brother and the edge of the table, and hope that Patton was okay.

“You’re going to wear a groove into the table,” Emile commented, watching him.

“Not my table, not my problem,” Virgil retorted. He reached the edge of the table once more, looked down for a second, searching for any sign of Patton, and failing to see any, started back towards Emile.

His brother watched him approach. “I’m sure he’s fine.”

Virgil shook his head. “You don’t know.”

Emile opened his mouth to reply; but Virgil froze, hearing a sound from behind him, in the direction of the base of the wall. He spun around and hurried over, swinging his crutches in a wide arc to get there as fast as possible.

The door into the wall was open. As Virgil watched, apprehensive, Patton poked his head out. He looked up, found Virgil, and waved, smiling. He was perfectly fine. Virgil let out a heavy sigh of relief.

“Is he there?” Emile asked.

“Yeah,” Virgil said. “Yeah, he’s there.”

“And he’s okay?”

“As far as I can tell, yeah, he’s fine.”

Emile breathed a soft breath, one that Virgil just barely heard. Apparently he hadn’t been as sure of Patton’s well-being as he let on. “Good.”

Virgil glanced back at Emile, who was watching him from his bed, then turned back to look over the edge of the table. Patton had emerged from the wall, carrying….

“What’s that?” Virgil asked aloud, watching as Patton closed the door.

“He did say he was going to get something,” Emile said, with the air of someone who knew exactly what Virgil was talking about. Virgil frowned, perplexed.

Patton, had something large strapped to his back, long enough to reach a couple of inches over his head. Whatever it was was wrapped up in tissue paper, obscuring it from view. Was it fragile? Or did he—and Emile, it seemed—just not want Virgil to know what it was? Were they keeping some kind of secret from him?

Patton came up to the table leg and smiled up at Virgil again, as if to reassure him that he was fine. He looked tired, though, pausing with one hand against the table, clearly intending to take a break before he climbed up to meet them. Virgil wanted to call down to him, but he wasn’t absolutely sure he couldn’t do so without the humans hearing. They seemed to be busy with whatever they were doing, and making plenty of noise; but Virgil wasn’t taking any risks with Patton down on the floor. It didn’t seem likely, at this point, that the humans would be angry simply because of that, but Virgil couldn’t know for sure, and accidents were always a possibility.

He watched apprehensively, looking between Patton and the doorway where the humans could appear at any minute, until Patton seemed to decide he was ready to climb up to meet them.

Virgil pulled him up over the table’s edge, and Patton lay there panting for a moment.

“How’d it go?” Emile asked when Patton had recovered.

Patton shifted to a crouch, starting to untie the load from his back. “Great!” he said. “Sorry it took a while. I didn’t mean to be gone so long.”

“No—no, you’re fine,” Virgil said. “I’m just glad you’re okay. What did you even get, anyway?” He eyed the parcel, unsure what it could possibly be.

“You’ll see!” Patton said brightly. “Come over here.” He picked up the tissue-wrapped thing, which Virgil realized must have been at least two things, judging by how they shifted, and walked over to Emile. Virgil, growing ever more confused, followed after.

Patton sat down at Emile’s side and gestured for Virgil to do the same.

Virgil glanced between them, then slowly sat down, setting his crutches to the side. “What’s going on?”

“Come on, Virge, did you really think we’d forget, even with everything going on? I know we’re late—I’m sure you understand why—but we’d never forget.”

“Forget what?”

It was Emile’s and Patton’s turn to look confused. They glanced at each other, than back at Virgil.

“Your birthday,” Emile said.

Virgil blinked.

Wait.

His birthday?

Virgil’s mouth opened, and shut again. Had he forgotten his own birthday?

He thought back, counted up to what day it was.

Oh.

He had forgotten. He’d completely missed it. He’d turned 24, and he hadn’t even noticed. Wouldn’t have noticed for who knew how long, if they hadn’t pointed it out.

Virgil felt his face go red.

“You forgot about it, didn’t you?” Patton said softly.

“It’s… We’ve been busy,” he justified.

“It’s okay,” Emile said, reaching for him. Virgil took his hand. “And I’m sorry we missed the actual day, but… we thought we could still celebrate.”

“Do you want to see?” Patton asked, holding up the package.

“I—yeah, of course, guys; of course I want to see.” He swallowed, feeling a bit teary-eyed. With everything that was going on, they still wanted to celebrate Virgil’s birthday.

“Okay.” Patton reached in and pulled out something small: a folded-up piece of paper. “My present first! Because Em’s is really, really good; and I don’t think I could follow that,” he joked.

Emile looked exasperated.

Virgil let go of Emile’s hand and took the paper from Patton. He held it like it was made out of the thinnest glass as he carefully unfolded it.

It was a drawing. Of him, and Patton, and Emile, all holding hands. They were surrounded by a rainbow of hearts, and beneath was written, “FAMILY”.

A moment passed as Virgil took it in.

Patton shifted, and Virgil suddenly realized that he was nervous—about him not liking the drawing, or about his decision to include himself in their family, Virgil didn’t know, but—

He grabbed Patton and pulled him into a tight hug.

“Thank you,” he said into Patton’s shoulder. “I love it. I really freaking love it, Pat.”

Patton gasped softly, but he held onto Virgil just as tightly. The hug lasted for only a few seconds before he let go.

“You’ve gotta see Em’s,” Patton said, smiling shakily as he gently extricated himself from the hug. “It’s amazing.”

“Now he’ll be expecting the moon, Pat,” Emile joked.

“No, the moon’s way too big! And cold, and far away; and we can get rocks anywhere. Your present’s much better.”

“Okay, okay,” Virgil said, almost laughing. “Let me open it.”

Patton passed him the package, and Virgil carefully unfolded the tissue paper, to reveal… a pair of crutches. They were noticeably different than the ones he normally used, precisely sculpted from wire, fabric, and thin metal rods. They had bands to fit around his forearms, rather than being propped under his underarms, and a handle just below the wrist.

Emile watched as he finished freeing them from the paper. “I thought maybe it was time for an upgrade,” he said. “I saw some like this on a tv show, and they looked a lot easier to handle than the ones you have…. I based the size on myself, and I tried to adjust for your height, but we can always adjust them if we need to. What do you think?”

Virgil silently fitted the bands around his forearms, just below his elbows, and grabbed onto the handles. He pushed himself into a standing position and walked a few steps, his brother and Patton watching. He paused, then walked the other way, going faster. He could already tell he had a much better range of motion than before; and these crutches didn’t pinch uncomfortably under his arms. “Perfect,” he said, turning back to Emile. “They’re perfect. How—when did you find the time to make these? How did you hide them from me?”

“I’ve got time. And the same place I hide all your presents,” Emile said. “I can’t give up that secret, can I?”

“But—Em, how long did it take to make these?”

“Not your concern. Happy birthday.”

Virgil adjusted his grip on the handles. “You’re dangerously close to making me hug you,” he warned.

Emile laughed softly. “Rain check?”

“Rain check,” he agreed.

…

Virgil was still trying out his new crutches while Patton and Emile watched fondly (he especially liked stepping up and down off of the box lid, which he could do much more easily now) when they heard a knock at the doorway. Virgil immediately came to a stop, and Patton turned to see Roman standing there, clutching something.

“Good evening!” the human called, smiling warmly at the three of them. “We’re back, as I’m sure you’ve noticed. Sorry I didn’t come see you guys sooner—Mister We-Can’t-Let-the-Frozen-Food-Melt-on-the-Counter made me help him put away all the groceries first. But anyway, hello! How are you all?”

“Fine,” Virgil said slowly, standing very stiffly with his new crutches like he thought Roman might take them away.

Patton shyly waved.

“Oh—Look what I’ve got!” Roman said, holding up the flat, rectangular object in his hands. It was mostly red and blue, but Patton couldn’t tell what it was. “We can keep watching it!”

He received three blank looks in the face of his eagerness. “Avatar!” he elaborated. “The Last Airbender. You know, the disk that stopped working?”

Oh! That thing he was holding let them watch the show? Patton sat up straighter. He’d liked Avatar. He’d like to watch some more of it.

Likewise, Emile visibly brightened at the news.

Roman seemed gratified at their reactions, small though they were.

“We can watch it together after dinner, okay?”

Patton glanced between his two friends. “O-okay,” he agreed.

…

Logan stirred the spoon through the pot of macaroni noodles, making sure that none stuck to the sides or bottom of the pot. Roman stood at his side, watching.

“Oh, so guess what?” Roman said after a few minutes, sighing dramatically and leaning against the counter.

“What?” Logan asked, pausing to adjust the temperature of the stove.

“I got a new manager. Claire’s moving to California, apparently.”

Logan glanced at him, then back at the pasta. “I’m sorry to hear that. I know you liked working with her. What do you think of your new manager?”

“He’s okaayyy, I guess. Not as cool as Claire.”

“I’m sure it will be fine. You will adjust.”

“I guess. Still stinks, though.” He briefly stared off into the distance like he was waiting for his husband to return from the war. Turning back to Logan, he asked, “Anyway, how’s things with you?”

“Well. There hasn’t been any significant change lately in my own employment, which I appreciate. I will probably have to go in early tomorrow, however, to help spread salt in the parking lot. It’s supposed to get colder in the next few days; and if it snows as expected, we must be prepared. The last thing we need is for someone to fall.”

“Don’t they have other people for that?”

“Well, yes, but Marie is on maternity leave, and I wouldn’t want to force Ahmed to do the entire parking lot and sidewalk himself, especially as he has bad knees that the cold will only make worse.”

“Please tell me you’re at least getting overtime.”

Logan shook his head. “No, this would be a favor.”

“Ah, you chivalrous b*stard.”

Logan paused his stirring to hide what was definitely a laugh.

“What happened to winter break? Are you really that bored already?”

“It’s a favor to Ahmed,” Logan reminded him.

“You didn’t answer my question.” Roman frowned at him jokingly, collecting silverware from the drawer.

“It isn’t as if our school break ends the day after tomorrow. There is still plenty of time for relaxation and leisure activity.”

Leisure activity. Roman chuckled to himself. What a Logan way to say “fun”.

“So, do you have Christmas plans?”

“You know my family doesn’t really celebrate. I’ll be staying here, if that’s what you mean to ask. Are you going home?”

“Hm,” Roman shrugged, playing the motion off as casual. “Probably not. It’s a little far, you know. Maybe we’ll get together in January.”

Logan glanced up and nodded, not saying anything. He knew things were somewhat… awkward, in Roman’s family.

Logan added the cheese to the macaroni noodles and began stirring that in while Roman retrieved the plates from the cabinet. He also grabbed the salt and pepper for Logan and the red pepper flakes for himself. He liked to have some spice.

They each spooned out their own portions of the pasta, and then Roman put together dishes for the mouse-men. He included a dish with some extra macaroni, as well, remembering how much Patton liked cheese. He or the other mouse-men might want seconds, he reasoned.

Once that was finished, they each took some of the plates and walked towards the living room.

“Dinner’s ready!” Roman called cheerfully before they entered. They sat down around the table, and Roman put the mouse-men’s portions on the table for them.

“It’s macaroni and cheese,” Logan softly announced as Patton approached the dishes. Patton perked up at the word “cheese”.

Roman smiled to himself.

Patton carried the dishes over in a couple of trips. He didn’t seem to mind that Virgil stayed at his brother’s side rather than helping. Roman knew that Virgil was every-wary and defensive of his brother, something that Patton was surely aware of as well.

Emile himself, meanwhile, while obviously not helping to carry the food over either, had clearly gotten more used to Roman and Logan being around. He didn’t seem nearly as nervous as when he’d first woken up to find himself in their company. While he still didn’t quite seem at ease, he’d come around much more quickly than Patton had. Probably due to a difference in experiences.

Roman shook away the memory of the finger-shaped bruises on Patton’s torso. They were long since gone, even if their influence had not quite yet vanished.

Once the moue-men had gotten settled, Roman reached for the red pepper flakes and shook some over his pasta. He felt eyes on him and glanced up to see Patton looking curiously at the shaker in his hand.

“You wouldn’t like this,” Roman told him. “It’s spicy. Like salsa.”

Patton made a face, obviously reminded of the time he had tried the spicy sauce while staying with the roommates. Roman chuckled.

“It’s okay, I’ll keep it to myself.”

Patton seemed content with that. He tucked into his food along with his companions, clearly enjoying the cheesy noodles. Roman was glad to see that all of them seemed to like it. At first glance, Virgil didn’t appear as overly enthusiastic about the macaroni as Patton, but it didn’t take long before he’d finished his first bowl and gone back for his second. Patton wasn’t far behind, and Emile clearly enjoyed the food as well.

The first part of the meal passed in relative silence, everyone simply enjoying the food. Then, finally, Logan set down his fork.

“So, you seem to be doing well.”

Roman glanced over at his roommate, who was watching Emile with his attempt at a soft, inviting look.

Emile responded with a small, hesitant smile, his own fork pausing over his macaroni.

He really was seeming a lot better, Roman had to agree. He was fully coherent, his bruises were fading, and he was staying awake longer without exhausting himself. The fact that he could eat macaroni and cheese, when he’d started out too nauseated to stomach more than a small amount of soup broth and bits of cracker, was a sign of vast improvement alone. His arm and tail were still broken, of course—it had only been about a week and a half, after all—but he was doing much better. Especially considering the state he’d been in when Logan and Roman had found him.

“He even walked around a little today,” Patton shared, his tone shy, but without an audible stammer.

Virgil, on Emile’s other side, sighed and closed his eyes briefly, as if he hadn’t wanted Roman and Logan to know that.

Roman decided to ignore that, and simply grinned, looking between Patton and Emile. “Really? That’s great!”

Logan nodded, clearly interested in the news as well. “Indeed, I would agree that that is excellent news. The fact that he’s begun to feel restless alone is a clear sign of progress.” He set his fork in his bowl. “I would recommend taking care to not overdo anything, of course. I’m sure you all want to get home as soon as possible, but pushing him is not necessarily the best course of action.”

Virgil scowled up at Logan. “He walked in a circle,” he grumbled. “It’s not like we made him run around the whole freaking building.” He stabbed a noodle with his fork in a way that made Roman think he was pretending it was Logan’s hand. “He wanted to.”

“We know you won’t push him,” Roman interjected soothingly, shooting his roommate a pointed look. “Logan’s just a party pooper sometimes, pointing out stuff like that. He means well.”

Logan sighed, holding up his hands in surrender. “I was simply attempting to be pragmatic.”

Roman ignored him, still addressing the mouse-men. “Anyway, it’s really good that he’s walking! You guys must be so happy! And Emile, I bet it was nice to stretch your legs.”

Roman felt Virgil look him over suspiciously, probably looking for sarcasm or a patronizing tone. But Roman was completely sincere. It was excellent news that Emile was feeling well enough to walk!

Virgil seemed to accept the sincerity of Roman’s statement, going back to his food without a word.

Emile, meanwhile, nodded, looking pleased; but Roman couldn’t help but notice something else in his expression. Dissatisfaction, maybe? Perhaps he had hoped to be doing better by now, or he was just impatient to go home. Roman couldn’t blame him for that, but he was happy for the mouse-man.

“Speaking of progress,” Logan said, “how are you feeling overall? I would assume rather well, given your activity earlier today; but I would appreciate hearing your own impression of your current status.”

Patton reached over and put a hand on Emile’s arm as if to reassure him that it was safe to answer. Virgil set down his macaroni.

Emile hesitated, then very quietly said, “I’m, um… I’m fine.”

“Are you in any pain?”

He swallowed. “…Yes.”

“Perhaps an inquiry with an easily deduced answer. My apologies. I should ask, is your level of pain improving?”

“…Yes,” he repeated.

“Would you mind telling me what still hurts?”

The mouse-man looked uncomfortable. “Um… my arm, I—I guess? A-and my head. And, uh, my ankle, kind of.”

“What about your other symptoms? How is your nausea? It seems improved, from my perspective, given your willingness to eat more.”

Emile nodded awkwardly.

“That’s good to hear. Are you still fatigued? I know you are starting to feel restless, but the two states are not necessarily mutually exclusive.”

“He… he doesn’t sleep as much,” Patton offered, probably wanting to give Emile a break from having to answer all the questions. “He still naps a lot, but… not as much, you know.”

“Yeah,” Emile breathed.

“What about the tinnitus—er, the ringing sound you described? Is it still there? Has the music been helping?”

“…It’s still there,” Emile mumbled.

Logan didn’t look surprised. “Ah. Has the music helped at night?”

The mouse-man nodded, but still looked dissatisfied.

Roman glanced at Logan, who had pursed his lips. “I do know of an exercise that you may attempt that might improve your symptoms. One of your companions will have to help you, at least until your arm heals.”

He waited for an answer, which came in the form of Virgil raising his eyebrows in an expression that clearly said, “Well?” Logan nodded, and then placed the palms of his hands over his ears, letting his fingertips rest on the back of his head.

“If you adopt this pose, and gently drum your fingers against the back of your head for approximately thirty seconds, it might help temporarily quiet the noise.” He demonstrated doing so, turning around to show the mouse-men. Roman meanwhile, let his mind drift, looking around.

“I can do that,” Patton said.

“Excellent. Just remember to be very gentle, as I’m sure you will be.”

“Hold on,” Roman interrupted, staring at Virgil in confusion.. “Are those new crutches?”

The mouse-man tensed, gripping them tightly. “Yeah. So?”

“Um… nothing, I guess.” Roman was just wondering where he had gotten them. He was sure he hadn’t seen them before. Had they somehow made them today? If so, that was very fast.

Logan glanced over to see what they were talking about, and seemed surprised he hadn’t noticed before. “Oh! They’re forearm crutches. That is excellent; I have been meaning to recommend crutches of the sort to you. They’re much better for long-term use than underarm crutches.”

Emile ate another macaroni noodle, looking pleased with himself. Roman had a sneaking suspicion about whose idea these new crutches had been.

…

“Alright! The DVD’s loading now, so we can watch it in just a couple of minutes.” Roman got up from in front of the television and walked over to the couch, where Logan waited with a bowl of popcorn. “Everybody settled in?”

Patton gave him a thumbs up, and Emile’s eyes were already glued to the screen.

(It was hard to tell, but Virgil, sitting on Emile’s other side, might have stuck out his tongue. Roman ignored this.)

Soon, the opening sequence began, and Roman settled himself in for a night of cartoon-bingeing.

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