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lithugraph · 4 years ago

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Ok I know y'all are thirsty for it, so I'm posting the first part of chapter 5 from The Book Smuggler here. There are still two more parts left to write. I've got the second part about halfway done. And I do feel bad it's taken me so long, I was on such a roll with this fic but this chapter was like hitting a brick wall because

Tilsit, East Prussia, 1863

The inn stood just off the market square, on a narrow street meandering carelessly down to the river. The plaster and timber frame sunk inward, as if the walls were in dire need of repair. They probably were, thought Eduard, as he eyed the building apprehensively, the way it slouched against the ones surrounding it, as if they were the only thing holding it up.

He pushed his glasses up his nose. This hardly seemed like a place his cousin would have chosen. Himself, on the other hand...well, he’d stayed in worse.

Eduard dug the telegram out of his pocket and checked the address again. It was right — this was the place. He flipped the card over as if it could offer up something else — some other clue as to why his cousin was staying — in Tilsit, of all places — at an inn that looked ready to collapse in on itself. But the back of the telegram was maddeningly blank.

Eduard sighed, adjusted the suitcase in his hand, and entered.

A surly-looking barman led him up a winding set of stairs to the top floor. Eduard had to duck his head to keep from knocking it against the sloping roof.

Tauras’ room was the third door on the right.

Eduard thanked the barman, then ensuring he was alone in the hallway, took a moment to compose himself — smoothing jacket lapels and flattening hair and cleaning glasses — and drew a deep, steadying breath. Though they corresponded regularly, it had been a few years since he’d last seen Tauras. And though Eduard had no qualms regarding sharing his exploits in letters, he certainly did not want to look the part of a con artist thief. He wanted to look every bit as respectable — as noble — as Tauras had.

Chin up, eyes down, mouth set. Eduard lifted a hand. And knocked.

The face that greeted him, though, was not the one he remembered.

When they were boys, Tauras had been a field of grass on a summer day, warm and vibrant. That spirit had since left him, and he just seemed...hollowed out. Tauras was thin, his shoulders rounded. A shadow hung behind his eyes — eyes that would not look at Eduard, but around him, through him.

Eduard’s lofty guise melted at the sight of his cousin. He set his suitcase down just inside the door and scooped Tauras into a tight embrace.

Air hissed through Tauras’ teeth, his shoulders tensed.

Eduard let go and stepped back, alarmed. “What is it? What’s wrong?”

“Nothing. I’m fine,” Tauras said — and Eduard could not help notice the quaver in his voice, nor the pained look creasing his brow.

“No, you’re not.”

“I said I’m fine, Ed.”

Eduard studied him — the shadow lurking in his eyes, the subtle way his shoulders shifted up and down. He noted the shirt, the coarse cotton weave unlike the finer cloth he had last seen his cousin wearing.

Eduard frowned. “What happened to you?” he asked softly.

Tauras raked a hand through his disheveled hair, shaking his head. “I need a drink,” he muttered as he shouldered past his cousin, descending to the bar below.

Eduard followed him down the stairs, eyes catching on the faint, rust-colored lines hatching across the back of Tauras’ shirt.

They sat at a small table near a window, the glass fogged from tobacco smoke and factory soot. The city beyond looked just as dulled under a hazy summer sky. The surly barman that had shown Eduard upstairs brought over two clay mugs of beer, all but throwing them onto the table.

“Welcome to Prussia,” Eduard said under his breath as the barman stalked off. He picked up his mug, drinking a long draught.

Moments later, a young woman brought over two bowls of stew and a loaf of rye bread. Eduard flashed her a smile out of habit. She returned it, cheeks reddening as he gave her a swift, appraising look over, but she had nothing on her worth pick-pocketing. He turned back to Tauras, who was idly stirring his stew.

“So,” Eduard said, “Tilsit. Are you going to tell me what’s going on? Why the hell you’re here” — he glanced around — “in this hovel of an inn? The last thing I heard from you, you were at the seminary. And don’t you dare tell me you’ve come here to minister to these people. I know priests take a vow of poverty and everything, but the last time I checked, they don’t dress like workmen. You can’t lie to a conman, cousin. Lies are what I do for a living, and yours are terrible.”

“I’m not a priest,” Tauras said quietly.

Eduard’s mouth settled into a thin line, his eyes blazing behind his glasses. Corresponding for years in letters had made him forget just how obstinate his cousin could be. Because letters could be edited. That part of yourself you did not wish to show could be hidden, buried with words — or else removed completely.

“You asked me to come here,” he pressed. “The least you could do is tell me why.”

“Is it wrong of me to want to see a familiar face?”

Eduard folded his arms. “Stop avoiding the question.”

Tauras’ eyes drifted up to lock on his cousin’s. Eduard felt himself shrink away at the look they held. Tauras flicked his gaze around the bar, but they were its only occupants. The barmaid had gone back to the kitchen, and the man was nowhere to be seen.

“I left the seminary, and I can’t go back home. That’s all you need to know.”

Eduard scowled, drinking his beer. It was just like when they were boys. Tauras, the leader; Eduard, following his every word. Tauras, the nobleman’s son; Eduard, the bastard-child-turned-serving-boy, following his master’s orders. They would never be equals, no matter how much Tauras had promised it when they were younger. Whether he knew it or not, Tauras still behaved much like the entitled boy he was raised to be, believing his word was final.

“You plan to stay here, then?” Eduard asked, a cutting edge to his voice.

“Yes. I don’t have much of a choice.”

Eduard arched a brow, finishing his beer. “Don’t you? You could have gone anywhere — Berlin, Munich— but you chose Tilsit and can’t even deign to tell me why.” He pulled his bowl of stew closer, tearing a piece of bread from the loaf and dipped it in, watching his cousin. “What does your family think, of you living here?”

“They don’t know. For all I know, they still think I’m at the seminary, or — ” Tauras broke off, shaking his head. The shadow was back, behind his eyes. He drank deeply from his beer mug.

“There are other Lithuanians here,” Tauras continued, as if to himself. “I just need to make contact. They’ll have ways of knowing what’s happening back home.”

Eduard’s eyes narrowed as he slowly chewed his bread. Pieces of the puzzle were gradually falling into place. “You’re talking as if...this is something permanent.”

Tauras looked at him a moment, as if disbelieving his cousin could really be that obtuse. “I already told you: I can’t go back home.”

“No, I know that, but it’s just...I’m trying to understand — and help you understand — whatever’s happened, you’re on your own now. Do you know what that means, truly?”

“Yes — “

“Then what’s your plan?” Eduard asked, tipping his chin back. A challenge. For once, he had the upper hand. For once, his cousin would have to listen to him.

“I have money. It’s not much, but it’ll support me until I can find work.”

Eduard shook his head. “Unfortunately, it’s not as simple as you make it sound. Be honest with yourself — you haven’t worked a day in your life. What skills do you have? What experience? You can paint and draw, play piano, speak four languages — that’s fine for impressing the ladies and gentlemen of society, but you’re not in that world anymore.”

Tauras bristled. “I haven’t been in that world for the past three years, or have you forgotten?”

“I’d hardly count the seminary as useful,” Eduard retorted, “unless you plan to join a monastery.”

“You know nothing of where I’ve been or what I’ve done — “ Tauras’ teeth clacked together as he cut himself off mid-sentence. He shoved himself up from the table. “This was a mistake.” He turned and stormed out of the inn.

“Shit,” Eduard sighed. He adjusted his glasses and stood, tossing a few coins onto the table for their meal, then left to find his cousin.

Tauras was seated on the banks of the Memel, elbows resting on his knees, staring across the river. He turned, hearing the crunch of sandy gravel behind him.

“You always did like the water,” Eduard remarked, hands resting in his pockets. “I remember following you through the woods to the stream when we were younger. And Nanny finding us and scolding us every single time.”

Tauras bowed his head, a faint smile softening the hard edges of his face. “She should have known not to sit on the terrace when she took us outside. The sun always made her fall asleep, and we’d always sneak away then.”

Eduard chuckled at the memory. He sat down beside his cousin. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you back there. We’ve always been honest with each other. But something’s changed that.”

Tauras swallowed, tucking a lock of hair behind his ear. “It’s not your fault. I wasn’t lying when I said I wanted to see a familiar face. I did — I do. But seeing you — here — all of a sudden...it made everything seem too real. Everything that’s happened the past few days...it feels like it belongs to someone else’s life, not mine.”

“What has happened?” Eduard asked gently.

Tauras looked at his cousin, his face stricken. “I was caught, Ed.”

Eduard’s brow furrowed. “You mean like �� like last time, when your brother — “

Tauras shook his head, a wry smile twisting his lips. “No. Nothing like that. Though I’m sure I’ve only further disgraced myself, as far as my father is concerned.” He picked up a rock, thumb brushing over its smooth, worn surface. “I’m a traitor to the empire. I was arrested and punished as such. And that’s what I mean when I say I can’t go home. If I do, I’ll just be arrested again — only this time I’m sure my sentence won’t be as lenient as a whipping and a train ride to Siberia.”

Eduard’s face paled under the waning afternoon sun. His eyes flicked to his cousin’s back, to the faint marks on his shirt.

Tauras’ shoulders shifted. “And that’s not even the worst of it,” he said, casting a sidelong glance at his cousin. “I left the seminary and joined the uprising. We thought we could overthrow the empire and get our country back. It sounds so foolish to say now, but....” His voice trailed away, eyes growing distant. “It was such a simple plan. We ambushed them, these Russians soldiers — my squadron did — and one of them was right there in my sights but I...I c-couldn’t — I couldn’t shoot him.”

“I ran, Ed,” he rasped. “I turned and I ran, and now they’re dead because of me. I failed my country just as I failed my men.”

They sat in silence, listening to the steady trickle of the river as it gently flowed by the bank.

“I tried to cross the border,” Tauras continued, voice thick, “but a Russian soldier recognized me — one of the ones from the ambush. I was brought to the customs house in Tauragė and sentenced to Kara. Needless to say, I escaped. I hid in the back of a wagon and crossed into Prussia four days ago. Though...there’s a part of me that thinks I should have stayed — stayed and...finished my sentence instead of running again. I owe my men that much, at least.”

Tauras let the rock fall from his hand. Eduard placed a gentle hand on his shoulder. Words of assurance, of comfort, clung to the tip of his tongue, but he knew it would do his cousin no good to hear them just now. They would sound empty and trite compared to the immeasurable guilt Tauras sought to atone for. Sometimes, the only thing you could do was sit with someone and watch the water.

Eduard went for a walk around Tilsit later that evening. If Tauras did indeed plan to make this city his new home, they would need better lodgings. Eduard included himself in that measure because, as he told his cousin, he may have worn out his welcome in Chemnitz. Actually most of Saxony, really. So he set out, scouting the rest of the city to see where they might feasibly purchase accommodations. Tauras told him of the money he’d managed to get from the estate. Paired with Eduard’s share from his last con, they would be able to live decently for a few months. But there was still the problem of work. Tauras would need a job and Eduard would need to make contacts as soon as possible. Though he would need to use discretion — Tilsit was nowhere near as big as the cities in Saxony — and his cousin would not appreciate being run out of town after only having just arrived.

Most of the Lithuanian population clustered around the riverfront or around the Lithuanian church further inland. Eduard took this information back to his cousin, along with noting a few help wanted signs hanging in windows near their vicinity.

When he got back to their room, he found Tauras standing in front of the dresser mirror. A basin of water rested on a table nearby. Tauras had removed his shirt and was gingerly cleaning the cuts criss-crossing his back, shoulders tensing as he caught sight of his cousin, reflected in the mirror.

Eduard lowered his head, averting his gaze. “Sorry. I...guess I should have knocked first.”

Tauras simply stared back — that same hollow stare from earlier. All sound seemed to be sucked from the room, save for the steady drip of water from the rag in his hand as he squeezed it over the basin.

“I, um, might have something for that,” Eduard said, eyes flicking up to his cousin’s, then back down.

The tension eased from Tauras. He lowered the rag, giving a near imperceptible nod of his head.

Eduard went to his suitcase, his movements stiff, limbs feeling like they belonged to someone else and not him. He knelt and flicked open the latches, taking a moment to collect himself as he lifted the lid, uncomfortably aware of his cousin watching him the whole time. There, resting on top, was a black leather case. Eduard took it out and set it on the bed, making a quick rummage through it.

“You travel with a medical kit?” Tauras asked.

“I travel with everything all the time,” Eduard said, trying to keep his voice light. “You never know when you’ll have to pretend to be a surgeon.” He spun around, holding up a roll of dressing and a container of salve.

The curiously amused expression Tauras wore as he watched his cousin shifted and became closed once again. Like a cloud passing over the sun, Eduard thought.

Tauras wordlessly approached and sat on the bed. Eduard patted his back dry with a clean cloth and began applying the salve. It had a woody smell, and he’d used it before to treat everything from scrapes and boils to eczema — much to his former patients’ satisfaction. He often thought if he had been able to keep with his schooling, he would have liked to become a doctor. A real doctor. It was probably why he spent so many years watching and imitating them, pretending to be them — and stealing whatever medical instrument he could get his hands on.

Eduard applied the dressing once he was finished with the salve, his eyes catching on the small golden cross around his cousin’s neck. He remembered the letter Tauras had sent him, almost a year after he had left boarding school. They were both sixteen and Tauras was absolutely besotted with his best friend from childhood. Eduard had already known this. Had known long before his cousin knew it himself, from the way Tauras would talk of Feliks in his letters to Eduard.

“Do you still think of him?” Eduard asked, nodding at the cross.

“Sometimes.” A sad smile passed over Tauras’ lips. “I suppose I was lucky my father sent me to Kaunas instead of forcing me into the imperial army, like Feliks’ father did to him.” He reached up, closing his hand around the cross. “Mostly though, I just hope he’s safe.”

And that’s it for now! It hasn’t been fully proofed yet, but I hope you enjoyed it so far and I’m sorry for the long wait! The rest of the chapter is in the works and who knows, maybe it’ll be up by the end of February??

#hetalia #aph fanfiction #my fic #the book smuggler #aph lithuania #aph estonia #aph poland #hws lithuania #hws estonia #hws poland

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cantdwellonanyofit · 4 years ago

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Fic Dedicated to Stolperzunge - Ch 2.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/28770078/chapters/70548765

Gene felt as if he’d been in line for days when he finally reached the ticket counter. As he spoke the words ‘New Orleans’ aloud, purchased his ticket, and turned to sit and wait for the train, he finally realized he had no idea where he was headed. Or whether Snafu even still lived in New Orleans. But he had come too far to turn back now. He couldn't imagine returning home. Couldn't imagine explaining, 'You know, I forgot I had no idea where my long-lost love lived,' to Sid without confessing the entire truth. He had nothing to return to anyway. Perhaps this could be good for him. Maybe just walking the same streets Snafu had walked would fill some of the gaping holes left in him from the war. Maybe coming home from the war had been so hard because he tried to return to his old life. The life he had before he ever met Snafu. It would be impossible for him to ever be the person he had been. Trying to fake it wasn't doing him any good.

When the train finally pulled into the station Gene had talked himself in and out of the trip about a dozen times. But he was doing this. He wasn't a quitter. He handed over his ticket and stepped up the platform onto the train. It wasn't the glamorous train they had ridden home from the war. It was cramped, and people were everywhere. Gene felt as though he couldn't breathe. He tried to take note of every exit available to him in case he needed to escape. He was catching pieces of conversations. Families trying to stay together. Men on business trips. Screaming children. It all slammed into his consciousness at maximum volume as his breathing sped up. He rushed past the seats trying to find somewhere he could be alone. Touching each seat as he passed and propelling himself forward. By the time he reached a compartment that was quiet, he had nearly reached the end of the train. He sat down in one of the empty seats by the window, and immediately propped it open. The mid-September air was still warm, like it always was in Alabama. But there was a gentle breeze that brought him some relief. He gulped it down like fresh water. He wished he had thought to bring a book or magazines. He was going to spend a day and a half with no one else for company but his own mind. This was going to be bad. He nearly bought a newspaper to read but thought better of it. He didn't want to risk reading about the war.

He sighed heavily and leaned his seat back to lay down. Then immediately regretted it and sat back up. He didn't like the feeling of not being able to see his surroundings. There were too many people around. He resigned himself to imagining what it would be like to see Snafu again. Those blue eyes. That sly smirk. He wondered what it would feel like to see Snafu outside of the battlegrounds. In America, in Louisiana, in his hometown. Wherever that may be. Gene had been a fool not to ask for Snafu's address before they boarded the train. They were all just so exhausted and ready to return home. They didn't much think about life beyond that. They had survived. It was inconceivable, unwanted, and unnatural.

Gene suddenly remembered a story Snafu had told the night of their drunken celebration with Burgie. Snafu had mentioned getting into trouble with the Baton Rouge police. Snafu had been pulled over for speeding, and when the officer approached the car window, he was met with Snafu's, “pale white ass against the glass.” As he had poetically explained it. Burgie and Gene had howled with laughter. Gene wasn't sure how Snafu managed to escape being detained, but they had been too drunk then to question it. If he were honest, Gene had been bordering on black out drunk at that point. His consciousness black spotted and stuttering like a worn-out filmstrip. He couldn't believe he remembered anything from that night. It boosted his spirits to know he had a starting place for hunting down Snafu.

He wondered if he was crazy. Obviously, Snafu didn't see fit to seek Gene out, but he didn't know what that proved. Considering Gene had just now boarded a train destined for New Orleans 7 months later. He couldn't believe 7 months of his life was already gone. It seemed he hadn't moved since disembarking the train home in February. Yet here he was, back on a train. Headed for great things or tragedy. He tried not to focus on the potential embarrassment of being rejected. What if Snafu pretended he didn’t know who Gene was? What if he was disgusted by Gene’s longing for him? And he had no choice but to accept that whatever connection he thought there was had been imagined. God would humiliate and ruin him again. He wasn't sure he could accept more of it. Maybe he'd die right there on the sidewalk in his several day-old clothes. Maybe people would just step on him as they walked by. Their feet passing through his ghostly form. The final indication that he never made it off Okinawa. And all the past several months were just the beginnings of his eternity in hell. He closed his eyes and tried to shut out the worst-case scenarios. Snafu had already rejected him once; he could surely live through it again.

---

As the train neared the terminal at New Orleans, Gene could feel his heart thumping in his throat. It didn't matter that he would just be stepping off the train to board a bus to Baton Rouge. He was virtually in the same city Snafu might be in. He may see Snafu again. He spent most of the train ride alternating between watching out the window, and fist fighting his brain into submission. Several people filed into the seats around him, and it made him more restless with every person that joined. Luckily, the person next to him had brought a surplus of reading material and offered him a book. 'Mind At The End of Its Tether," which had distracted Gene for a good half hour. And then another couple hours when his mind pondered if the book had been right. Maybe humanity would cease to exist. This aligned with his assumptions that God had expected both the Japs and Americans to die. War was everywhere. The world was on fire. And here Gene was, chasing a boy that might not want anything to do with him. What else was a guy to do during the apocalypse? He might as well get his first kiss before the world ended. Ed had poked fun at him for keeping his virginity throughout the entire war. But Sledge had also been a bit surprised and fed up with it. He wanted to forget. And he knew no better way than to give in completely to sin. The elderly woman next to him shifted in her seat, and Gene blushed. He sure hoped she couldn’t read minds. He carefully returned the book to her and thanked her.

Gene waited in line, boarded a bus, and did more waiting. Became more restless. He hadn't showered in days. He was still wearing the same clothes. At least if he ran into Snafu now, he'd be recognizable. He looked just as disheveled as he had in the war. He was buzzing with energy. Even though he hadn’t slept more than four hours both nights, he had never felt more alive. He was bordering on giddy. Finally, he stepped off the bus and into Baton Rouge. He was immediately met with traffic, people, and bright lights. His eyes landed on a Sears, and he decided he'd stop in for some clothes. He tried to imagine what Snafu would find attractive, but he had no idea if Snafu even liked men. Or him. He must've looked helpless because it wasn't long before he was approached and assisted. He considered asking, “Picture this, you decide to chase down the man of your dreams. But only after finally accepting you might perhaps be homosexual, and it took losing your entire identify in a hard-fought war to reach this conclusion. What would YOU wear?” But thought better of it.

"I'm trying to find clothing that would impress….someone." He finished lamely. He knew he looked ragged. It made him feel even more unsure of himself. "Delightful! Come this way, I know exactly what you need." Before long he was handing over money for several sweaters. Some had a chain-link pattern across the chest, while others were knit vests he could wear over the collared shirts he’d purchased. He bought suspenders, a gabardine jacket, cream trousers, and several brown and maroon pants. He delightedly purchased a couple of fountain pens and paper as well so he could write to Sid. He tucked the receipt in his pocket with the others so he could track how much money he owed Sid. There was no way he wouldn't pay back his friend. He stepped back out into the light and looked around. He needed to find a motel to stay in. He desperately needed a shower. He walked several blocks until he spotted a hotel called the 'Grouchy Hotel,' and stopped in his tracks. No wonder Snafu was the way that he was, the entire city called it like they saw it. Gene's arms were nearly numb, and he decided this would have to do. Grouchy personnel or not, he'd be delighted to check in.

Checked in, and successfully in his room, he dropped his bags all over the floor and immediately stripped off his clothes. He lingered in the bathtub, soaping up several times before feeling clean. If he was going to see Snafu, he wanted to be presentable. He toweled off, put together some of his new ensemble, and then felt at a loss at what he should do next. How was he supposed to find Snafu in this huge town? He had no idea if he had even chosen the right place. It had been one story Snafu had told while blindingly drunk. Gene’s stomach growled and he checked his watch. It was nearly 1600. He decided he’d venture back out in the street for a meal. He hadn’t eaten much the past few days. Mostly due to nerves, but he also had no idea how long he would be paying for a hotel, and they weren’t cheap.

Gene stopped at the front desk for some food recommendations then made his way out into the street. He headed towards the water, as he was told to. He hoped he would find it relaxing, and not an unpleasant reminder. He had a tumultuous relationship with water since the war. He used to love swimming, or the sound and feeling of fresh rain. But after spending months soaked to the bone, he wasn’t sure he ever wanted to be wet again. He followed his nose until he had reached a pizza shop. His stomach groaned in excitement. Before long, he was seated and reviewing the menu. Contemplating whether he should buy one of everything. Suddenly a worker emerged from the kitchen walking backwards while he spoke to someone in front of him.

“I can’t thank you enough Mr. Shelton, you do great work.” Shelton, Gene thought, must be a popular surname around these parts. Great. It wasn’t already going to be hard enough to find Snafu. The odds continued to mount against him. It was likely he’d spend all this time, money, and return home just as lost as he’d been before he left. He was like a mistreated dog, returning to the only home he ever knew even though it would eventually kill him.

“It was nuthin’, Mr. Alesce. You enjoy that cool air, now,” Gene dropped his drink and didn’t even register when the glass shattered against the table, and then the floor. His Coke splattered all over him.

He’d know that voice anywhere. His head turned so fast to the side it cramped. He stood up and his chair tilted before it clattered to the floor. Time slowed; his blood rushed to his head. He was going to pass out. He turned and stared directly at Snafu, who had a faraway look to his eyes. The shattering of glass must’ve startled him. Or perhaps seeing Gene had caused the wild look in his eyes. Maybe Gene was the last person he ever wanted to see again. But in true Snafu fashion, he shook it off faster than Gene could. Someone rushed over, apologizing to Gene as if it had been their fault the glass shattered. Gene was standing in shards of it when he locked eyes with Snafu.

Those fuckin’ blue eyes. They were the same as the last time he saw them. Somewhat darker underneath from lack of sleep, but so beautiful. They stood staring at each other. Seconds, minutes, potentially hours passed. Maybe this was Gods final act. He’d let Gene have this moment for as long as he needed it, and then God would plunge him back into his home in Mobile. His chance at freedom ripped out of his hands. He’d be clawing his nails raw at the door, begging for another glimpse of the life he would never have.

Snafu was walking towards him. Gene backed up and hit the wall behind him. Then, as if the walls were made of rubber, he propelled himself forward and began walking towards Snafu. They met in the middle. Gene thought it funny that they were always doing that. Meeting each other halfway in every situation.

“You look like shit, Eugene,” Snafu smiled his stupid damn shit eatin’ grin. His attempt at a lighthearted hello.

“You—You fool. You fuckin’---Damn, piece of----. You absolute piece of---. You fuckin’…. Damn fool!” Gene’s voice was rising, and he couldn’t stop it. He knew he shouldn’t be causing a scene. He just kept hurling insults and growing louder. This is not how he imagined reuniting with Snaf’. Snafu’s smile dropped. He began pushing Gene towards the door. Gene was fighting him off. Hitting him with one closed fist, right in the shoulder, and then the other hand joined in.

“You have a great day now, Mr. Alesce. Ouais, t’inquiète! I got this handled. Merci, beaucoup. Naw, it’s on the house!” Snafu continued pushing Gene until he was out the door and on the sidewalk. Snafu grabbed Gene’s hands and dragged them behind his back until Gene was in front of him. Snafu held a tight grip on both of Gene’s biceps. “You gotta calm down, cher.”

Gene nearly fought his arms free so he could wrap both hands around that tanned throat. Cher…who the hell was he calling cher when he left Gene. Abandoned him. When Gene needed him the most, he just walked out. “Don’t you sweet talk me, you asshole,” Snafu chuckled.

“I’m not kiddin’ with you, Snafu! Why didn’t you wake me up? Why?!” Gene tried to free his arms but realized immediately it was pointless. All he managed to do was swing both men wildly from one side then the other.

“I don’t know. I didn’t think it’d matter so much to you. Just…thought you’d move on.” Snafu responded.

“Excuse me, is that supposed to calm me down because now I’m extra fired up.”

“What are you doing here?” That calmed Gene down. What a good question. What the hell was he doing here. Talking to this man who obviously didn’t think walking out of Gene’s life was much of a big deal. It seemed to measure up to swatting away a pesky fly to Snafu. He washed his hands of him, and then just continued his life as it was. While Gene’s life had completely stopped. Right up until the moment he locked eyes again with Snafu. Surely, he had broken the spell, and time would begin ticking again for him. Gene stopped struggling, and said in an icy tone, “Making a huge mistake, apparently. Let me go.”

“Now wait just a second, Eugene. I didn’t mean it how’ya heard it.”

“I heard it just fine. Let go of me.” Gene wrenched his right arm and swung both men to the right. Dangerously close to the road.

“I don’t want to.” Snafu said, matter of fact.

Gene laughed. “That’s rich. You did such a beautiful job of it the first time.” Snafu twisted Gene around so he was facing him. “Don’t mistake my absence for indifference. I-“ Snafu seemed to be bracing himself. “I’m incredible at fucking up my own life. Don’t take it personally.”

Gene hadn’t expected to hear such honestly. His mouth hung open as he tried to think of a response. He eventually just closed it. Did Snafu really think leaving Gene had fucked up his life? He seemed so aloof about it. Gene didn’t understand how Snafu could hold so much regret, and then just act like nothing was amiss when they met again.

Snafu twisted Gene back around, placed a hand on the small of his back, and began steering him. “Where you staying at? How long you been here? You really fucked up your clothes, man. I hope you got more.” Gene was barely registering his movements as he walked both men towards the direction of his hotel. His clothes. What a waste of Sid’s money. Maybe he should just walk them both to the water and jump in. Kill two birds with one stone. Clean his clothes, and the sin off him.

“I’ve been here for…Maybe a couple of hours.”

“No shit? Ain’t that somethin’. You got lucky; I’d been procrastinating this job because the bus ride here is a bitch.” Gene couldn’t believe his luck. The utter fate involved in his reuniting with Snafu. It was almost as unreal as their chance to meet in the first place. If the war had never happened, what would his life be like right now? Would he be continuing to force himself to go on dates with girls? Would he still listen to all the guys around him talk about the things they did with girls in the dark? While Gene continued to hope his innocence protected him from questioning? While Sid continued protecting him from questioning? Before long, Snafu and Gene reached the hotel. Snafu dropped his hands from Gene’s back.

“You know what brought me here? I remembered that damn story you told about mooning that police officer. That’s why I chose Baton Rouge.”

Snafu laughed loudly, “Aw, Gene, I can’t believe that. I made all that up!”

Gene nearly started laughing hysterically. Instead, an anguished cry ripped out of him and he began sobbing. Snafu was here. He recognized him. He had walked him back to his hotel. He regretted leaving Gene. Snafu looked incredibly startled and vulnerable. Like the face he wore when Gene threated to cut that Japs teeth out.

“Eugene, I’m sorry. I’m real sorry. I shouldn’t have made that up.” Snafu offered.

Gene laughed as tears slid down his cheeks, “That’s not why I’m upset.” He quickly wiped away the tears, embarrassed at losing his composure, “I don’t even know if I am upset. I just can’t believe I found you so quickly. My life stopped the second you left me on that train. I haven’t breathed in months. I feel like I died on that damn train, Snaf.”

Snafu looked genuinely confused. “Why? You have a great family. I thought….. A good home. Friends….” He trailed off. “You have so much good in your life.”

“I don’t care about any of that. They don’t understand. They can’t accept who I am now. That I’m not me anymore, and I might never be again. You were the only person to understand.” Gene paused; lowered his voice in case anyone walked by. They were in public after all. “You’re all I think about. All of the time.”

Snafu continued to look perplexed. Gene left Snafu’s side and opened the door for them to enter the hotel. “Let’s talk inside,” he offered. Snafu slowly nodded.

“Bienvenue, messieurs!” The man at the front desk called fondly. “Merci bien. Bonne journée,” Snafu responded. Gene smiled politely at the man. He was really going to have to pick up some French while he was here.

They remained silent as they walked to Gene’s room. Gene opened the door for Snafu, then quickly turned to close and latch it. When he turned around again, Snafu was on him. Pushing him against the door and touching noses with him. Snafu’s breath was a breeze against Gene’s lips. Gene forgot everything he was going to say. Every moment of sadness and despair. He forgot his own name. All he could think about was Snafu’s mouth on his.

Gene reached both hands towards the sides of Snafu’s neck. Gently touching his fingertips to his skin. Gene pressed, bringing Snafu toward him, and closed the gap. It was like dunking his head in ice cold water. He’d never felt so alive in his life. His heartbeat sped up. Warmth traveled from his mouth, down his throat, filling his chest, butterflies bounced off his stomach, and a ball of heat shot straight into his groin. He moaned in Shelton’s mouth. Snafu positioned both his hands firmly on Gene’s hips. Pulling him towards Snafu until Gene’s sticky clothes rested against Snafu’s. Gene wanted to chastise him. ‘You’ll get your nice work clothes all dirty,’ Gene thought. But he didn’t dare stop to voice his concerns.

Gene was softly rubbing his fingers along the back of Snafu’s neck, then he dragged his fingertips up along the sides. Landing in Snafu’s hair behind his ears. The curls were as soft as he imagined they’d be. He opened his mouth wider and slipped his tongue into Snafu’s mouth. Snafu moaned. Responding by sucking on Gene’s tongue and tightening his hold on his hips. Taking control of the situation. Of Gene. Gene was overheating. This was better than any fantasy he ever thought up. He must’ve said as much because Snafu chuckled.

“You think about this often, boo?” Gene brought Snafu in for another slow, open-mouthed kiss. When Gene broke off the kiss to respond, Snafu caught Gene’s lower lip in his teeth and sucked. Gene moaned and took a deep breath. “I can’t believe you left me. Left this.” Snafu seemed to be thinking before responding, which was a real first. “I thought it’d be better. For you. I couldn’t-“ Snafu struggled again to find words.

“I couldn’t stand bullshitting with you like we did with Burgie. I’d have asked you to come home with me. And I ain’t—Eugene.” He opened his arms wide, “I ain’t got shit to offer you here.”

Gene stared pointedly. “What do you think I need other than you? Just you. It’s simple as that.”

Snafu was shaking his head in disbelief, “I don’t understand you, Sledgehamma’. You got the whole world in your hands, and you’re just gonna keep chasing the one thing you think you’re missing.”

“I don’t understand you neither,” Gene retorted. “You claimed leaving fucked up your life, and you just walked away. Like you left one of your bags on the train. As if you might be able to just replace what you lost, so there’s no need to go searching for it.”

“I wasn’t interested in replacing it. I was just gonna add it to the list of irreversible mistakes and leave it at that.” Snafu reasoned.

“Why?” Gene’s eyebrows knit together in confusion.

Snafu shrugged, “I told you, I don’t know. I just thought it’d be better for you.” Gene scoffed, “Well you got a lot to learn about what’s good for me then. I can take care of myself. You just stay out of making decisions for me from now on. I’m a big boy. You should’ve at least given me the option. I’d have come home with you if you had asked.”

“That’s what I was afraid of,” Snafu responded quickly. “That I’d hold you back. From moving on. From being happy. Starting over--” Gene interrupted, “There’s no startin’ over unless it’s with you.” Snafu smiled slowly, his eyes half-lidded, “You’re a real sap, Eugene.” Gene laughed. And it felt good. His stomach groaned loud enough for both men to hear it.

Snafu finally turned to look around the hotel room. Gene had left his bags scattered everywhere from earlier. “You get robbed while you was out?” Snafu teased. Gene started removing his clothes. Snafu went a bit red and turned around to offer Gene some privacy. Gene had to bite his lower lip to keep from laughing. “What’re you doing? You just had your tongue halfway to my tonsils, and now you’re protecting my modesty?” Snafu’s laugh burst from him. Gene’s grin nearly split his face. He missed this. The teasing, the laughing. It felt so good to be safe with Snafu. They could just be men. Boys. War had aged them greatly. Mentally and physically. But they still reached in and yanked out each other’s youthfulness. Their innocence. This is what he had desperately been missing.

“Shut up and get yourself cleaned up. I’m going to take you to dinner. Isn’t that how this works? Take you to dinner first before I take you to bed?” Snafu said it so matter-of-factly it was Gene’s turn to blush. “You’re an animal.” Gene kidded, and Snafu chuckled. “You chose this life, Eugene. Got no one to blame but yourself.” Snafu had no idea about the implication of those words. How true they really were. Gene had brought everything upon himself. The war, the anguish, the brokenness. But also, the joy, love, and growth. He didn’t want to imagine what his life would’ve been like without the war because then he wouldn’t be right here with Snafu. And that was a life he already tried to live and couldn’t. Gene changed out of his clothes and dropped them in the tub with some water. He soaped them up, but he doubted it’d do much. He might as well try, he figured. He quickly washed the stickiness off himself in the sink, redressed, and did a 360 turn for Snafu, who laughed. He was sitting on the bed, practicing patience as Gene tidied up. "You ready? Before the entire town closes down?” Gene crept up and stood between Snafu’s thighs, dropping a gentle kiss to his lips before standing and heading for the door. “Lead the way.” Gene had already followed Snafu to hell and back. He’d be delighted to follow him anywhere for the rest of his life.

#smutty #Whoops #Sledgefu #Eugene Sledge #Snafu #stolperzunge #*stresses out about my snafu characterization #Translations and comments are in the AO3 link #I'm too lazy to repeat myself

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cece-0708 · 4 years ago

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Attraction (or the lack thereof)

*This fic contains internalised aphobia*

Summary: There must be something wrong with her; it’s the only explanation. Or: Mina Ashido had never fallen in love, and maybe there’s a reason for that.

This can also be found on AO3.

Word count: 2,616

——————————

Mina Ashido had never fallen in love.

It was a fact she brushed off due to still being young. She’d always had an interest in romance since a young age (a fact she blames on her mother’s love for romance movies) and couldn’t wait to finally feel it for herself.

Ashido could easily point out when others were in love — again, thanks to the romance movies. Her friends had always come to her to talk about romance, naming her their wingwoman.

But for some reason, she could never point out the signs in herself. They were just never there. She’d always passed it off as her being too busy preparing for high school.

The chance to be someone’s wingwoman had occurred again recently after Uraraka finally came to the realisation that she could focus on becoming a hero and still have time for romance. It would be hard given how much time their school work and training takes, but it would be no different to the time constraints of being in a relationship as a pro hero.

Thankfully, Ashido’s plan had worked out perfectly, and Uraraka was able to confess her true feelings to Midoriya. It had been funny to watch from a distance as the two had turned bright red and stuttered at each other. As soon as she saw Uraraka grin and hug him, Ashido had left, knowing her work was done.

Later that day, Ashido was lounging around in the common rooms (which were empty due to the noisier boys running around and playing with a frisbee in front of the dorms and everyone else being tucked away in the rooms) when Uraraka came running over to her, a big grin on her face and her eyes sparkling with happiness.

She sat up immediately as Uraraka let out a squeak of excitement.

“It went exactly as you said it would! Thank you so much!” Uraraka said, rocking back and forward on the balls and heels of her feet. It seemed like her body could hardly contain her excitement.

“That’s great! I told you you had nothing to worry about,” she responded with a wink and a thumbs up.

“Yeah,” Uraraka giggled. She sat down next to Ashido and wrapped her arms around her, the pink-haired girl immediately returning the hug. “I know I already said this, but thank you. I wouldn’t have been able to do it without your advice.”

“It was no problem! I’m always happy to help if anyone needs me.”

As they both pulled back from the hug, Ashido watched as Uraraka’s grin shifted into a smirk. The round-faced girl gave her a quick nudge to the side.

“If you ever need help with your crush, I’ll be sure to return the favour.”

Ashido’s eyebrows furrowed at her words, her head tilting to the side ever-so-slightly. “My crush?”

Uraraka faltered for a moment, her expression dropping before morphing into one of bewilderment.

“Yeah,” she nodded, confusion placed in the tone of her voice. “You don’t have one?”

Ashido shook her head.

“To be honest, I never really have. I guess I just haven’t found the right person yet,” she shrugged.

“Oh, maybe. Well, whenever you do, be sure to let me know.” Uraraka said, her smile returning. “Sorry for assuming.”

“It’s okay. I’ll be sure to let you know.” Ashido waved it off as she let out an awkward laugh. This wasn’t the first time someone assumed she had a crush on someone. People just naturally expected the girl who loved love to have already experienced it herself, she guessed.

There was a moment of silence in which Ashido tried to think about what to say next. For some strange reason, she always felt awkward when talking about romance relating to herself. This interaction was no different.

Just as she opened her mouth to ask about what had happened earlier after she left, Ashido heard a buzzing noise from behind her. She turned her head to see an alarm pop up on her phone screen which she had set as a reminder to write the English essay due tomorrow.

“Oh!” She scrambled to pick it up and quickly swiped the alarm away, stopping the noise. “Sorry, I’d love to talk more, but I have to go write that essay now or it won’t get done at all!”

“You haven’t done it yet?” Uraraka laughed as Ashido stood up and began to speed walk over to the elevator as fast as she possibly could.

“You know how I am!” Is all she responded with as she hurriedly pressed the button to close the doors.

As Uraraka’s laughter faded away and the elevator started moving upward, Ashido clenched her fist and held it over her heart. She felt hollow inside, her chest aching. Talking about her personal love life had always brought her this feeling.

—————

A loud groan escaped Ashido’s lips as she tossed and turned in bed, her bedsheets rustling as she struggled to get comfortable. Her thoughts wouldn’t stop, all focusing on one of her classes that day.

That morning, Midnight had given them a sex ed lesson. She had mentioned that there was more to it than the basics she’d taught them about but she wasn’t allowed to talk about it because it might be too intense for some people — something Ashido was incredibly thankful for.

Before that lesson, Ashido had never really thought about… that. The romantic movies she preferred never focused on that stuff. And now that she was on that train of thought, she realised she’d never really thought much about romance in general towards herself.

Also, she wasn’t quite sure why, but when Midnight then went on to talk about attraction, Ashido had found herself confused. Sure, Ashido understood romantic love to some extent (although she had always assumed those movies were way over the top and unrealistic) but nothing mentioned in that lesson seemed to make any sense to her. She’d always thought that sexual attraction was one big joke. It had never seemed real to her.

Everyone else seemed to understand it, though.

It didn’t help that Kaminari and Sero had been joking around about it all at lunch. Kirishima had joined in a little at one point, too, and Jirou and Bakugou had laughed at least once.

Ashido, however, had only felt uncomfortable — both at their words and the fact that she still couldn’t make any sense of them. Most of what they said just completely flew over her head.

She’d ended up faking laughter in the hopes that they didn’t notice her shifting around in her seat and picking at her food. Although it did seem like Kirishima had noticed that something was off with her if his concerned glances were anything to go by.

She let out a large sigh of discomfort as she draped an arm over her face, her nose scrunching up as she began to give up on sleep. It seemed hopeless at this point.

Why had she reacted so differently to everyone else? Why didn’t she understand? Everyone else seemed to find attraction so natural.

“Is there something wrong with me?” She whispered aloud, blankly staring up at the ceiling.

Ashido felt her heart drop, tears brimming in her eyes and beginning to spill down her cheeks as she thought over that last question. Her bottom lip quivered as she sucked in a shaky breath of air.

There must be something wrong with her; it’s the only explanation.

—————

“Oo! Don’t you think he looks hot here?”

Ashido glanced up over her fashion magazine to look at the picture on Hagakure‘s phone. It was a photo of Hawks from his latest photoshoot, a collaboration with a sportswear brand.

“Oh, that outfit looks great on him!” Ashido commented, putting her magazine down so she could take a closer look. “The colours really compliment his eyes.”

Hagakure nodded at that, something she was only able to see because the invisible girl was wearing one of Ashido’s hats. She’d borrowed it earlier to see if it would suit her and hadn’t taken it off yet.

“I could stare into those eyes all day.” Hagakure said with a dreamy sigh. Ashido snorted at that, letting out a little giggle.

“And those wings!” Hagakure exclaimed, exhaling another sigh. “Could you imagine what it’d be like to be carried through the sky at night?”

“Why would he carry you at night?” Ashido questioned, feeling confused yet amused.

“Like on a date!”

Ashido raised a brow. “Why would you go on a date with him? He’s almost seven years older than us.”

“I’m talking hypothetically,” Hagakure responded as if it were already obvious. “I know he’s too old for us. It’s still fun to think about, though.”

“It is?” Ashido mumbled, trying to put herself in the scenario her friend had described.

She knew Hagakure meant it in a romantic way, but when Ashido imagined herself being carried through the sky she felt nothing. It didn’t feel romantic at all. It didn’t feel like anything.

That familiar empty feeling began to worm its way back to her heart, her amused smile faltering. Ashido thought back to last week when she had cried herself to sleep, this moment further cementing her theory that something is wrong with her.

Ashido shook her head, trying to shake away that lingering thought before it led to her crying again. She didn’t particularly feel like having to explain everything to Hagakure. The invisible girl probably wouldn’t understand.

Her gaze flirted around the room, trying to find something to shift the focus to. After a few seconds of awkward silence, she spotted Hagakure’s camera.

“Hey, didn’t you say you were going to print some of your photos of our class to put on your wall?”

“Oh! I almost forgot about that. Thanks for reminding me!”

Ashido let out a deep sigh of relief, thankful that had worked.

—————

When Shinsou had joined their class at the start of second year, he’d been adopted into the ‘bakusquad’ quite quickly. By force.

He’d tried to stay away, but Kaminari wouldn’t leave him alone until he agreed to join them for their weekly Mario Kart tournament. Eventually, Shinsou had given in, and he’d been a part of their group ever since.

They were getting ready to start this week’s tournament — which was being held in Sero’s room this time — when Jirou finally walked in. As soon as she spotted Shinsou, she walked straight over to him and sat down beside him.

Ashido frowned a little at that, hugging one of Sero’s pillows to her chest. She was perched on the end of his bed, Bakugou occupying the other end of it. Sero was swinging side to side in his hammock, Shinsou on the floor next to him.

“How did it go?”

Shinsou let out a deep sigh and rolled his eyes. “I rejected her.”

That caught everyone’s attention.

“Rejected who?” Kaminari questioned, turning around to face them. He’d been setting up the switch and making sure everything was correctly plugged in.

“A girl from my previous class,” he explained, sounding a little exasperated. “Jirou and I were walking back to the dorms after class when she asked to speak to me alone. Then she confessed to me.”

“You weren’t even a little bit interested in her?” Kaminari asked.

Ashido watched as Shinsou frowned for a second before a look of realisation flashed across his face. He rubbed his hand against the side of his neck, tilting his head down.

“Ah, I haven’t told you yet, have I?”

“Told us what?” Sero questioned, leaning back in his hammock.

“Well—“

“Do you like guys, too?” Kirishima suddenly blurted out. “Because if you do, there’s no need to worry about how the class will react to you coming out. I’m gay.”

Kirishima had come out to them relatively early during first year and no one had a negative reaction to it. Ashido knew that their class would be thankful that Shinsou trusted them with that information.

“No, that’s not it,” Shinsou shook his head. “I’m not interested in anyone.”

“What do you mean?” Ashido questioned. A feeling of anxiety crept up on her as she patiently awaited his response.

“I’m aroace. It means I don’t experience romantic or sexual attraction. It doesn’t mean I can’t love people in other ways, though.”

Ashido inhaled a sharp breath of air upon hearing his words, her body freezing in place and her eyes widening as her experiences regarding personal romance came flooding back to her.

“So you don’t fall in love?” She heard Jirou ask, her voice muffled by the sound of Ashido’s own thumping heartbeat.

“I never have and I never will,” she heard Shinsou respond. “I can still love people platonically, though.”

Shinsou had never been in love, just like her, and he never would be. She clutched the pillow in her arms tightly, inhaling a shaky breath as everything began to line up in her head.

Ashido had never felt romantic feelings for anyone before, and sexual attraction had always seemed like more of a joke to her — it was why she could never take Mineta seriously and why Midnight’s lesson just didn’t make any sense to her.

“Aroace,” she whispered, Shinsou’s words repeating in her mind. Her breathing began to speed up its pace.

The others all turn to look at her, stopping their conversation as they noticed the state she was in.

“What’s up with you?” Sero asked, sharing a concerned glance with the others.

Ashido remained silent, her mind too focused on the words looping over and over in her head as her lips curled into a grin upon making her realisation.

She’s not the only one.

A rough hand landed on her shoulder, knocking her out of her thoughts. Ashido jumped in shock, turning her head to see Bakugou right next to her.

“Spit it out.” Bakugou said. She could tell by his tone that there was no malice behind it.

“I think I might be aroace, too,” she breathed, a feeling of relief washing over her body. “I never knew there were other people who felt this way. I thought there was something wrong with me.”

“There is nothing wrong with you.”

Shinsou’s response was immediate and held an air of finality over it. He stood up and moved to sit next to her.

“There are many people who are ace or aro or both. Just because they don’t experience love in the same way most people do, it doesn’t mean they’re broken,” he explained.

Ashido bit her bottom lip, barely containing her smile as a tear escaped her eye and rolled down her cheek.

A second later, she felt herself dragged into a group hug. She dropped the pillow in her arms and almost fell onto her back from the sudden force of Kaminari surging forwards and wrapping his arms around them.

“I’m sorry that you had to feel that way,” he said, tightening his grip on them.

Ashido felt her body shake with a sob. Just as she wrapped her arms around the two boys, she felt the others all run over to join in on the hug, too. Even Bakugou, someone who wasn’t the best at displays of affection, placed a hand on each of their shoulders.

As she tilted her head back to try and hold back the tears, Ashido’s gaze met Shinsou’s. She could see unshed tears brimming in his eyes, too, as he gave her a soft smile, mouthing the words ‘you are not broken’ to her.

She nodded, a breathy laugh escaping her lungs.

Mina Ashido had never fallen in love, and that was okay.

——————————

Writing this fic meant a lot to me as someone who is aroace. Even though I discovered asexuality during my early teens (and denied the fact that I’m ace for months before accepting it), I still feel like I’m broken sometimes. I know I’m not, but it’s hard to make that feeling disappear.

This whole fic is inspired by the fact that Ashido has never fallen in love (as states in the Ultra Analysis book). Also, that scene with Hagakure was incredibly hard to write because I had no idea what to make Hagakure say. I have no idea how non-aroace people talk about guys.

Also, feel free to leave some concrit. My writing is rusty.

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bazzybelle · 5 years ago

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Carry On Countdown - Day Eleven

Notes: So… I wrote this story (the first half) during one of my spirals. Go find my WLW fic if you’re that curious, I don’t want to word-vomit about my mental health again. I had originally wanted to just keep the first half, but @fight-surrender helped me to find a little hope (some that I was missing, to be honest).

Lyrics/title are from the song “Let It Be” by The Beatles. This is my favourite song and never fails to help me cry out my emotions and help me calm down when I’m too in my own head. It’s what’s playing in the background, as I try to make sense of the jumbled words/emotions bouncing around up there.

Also, a disclaimer, I am aware that everyone’s experience with depression is different. I am coming at this fic based on my own personal experiences and spirals.

All my love go to @carryonsimoncarryonbaz for talking me through this fic and encouraging me to post it despite its grim tone; to @fight-surrender for listening to me during my thought spirals and for being a beacon during my dark moments (also, for giving me the idea to add some hope/reflection into the story); and to my husband who makes me tea when I’m sad and doesn’t push me to talk about my sadness and has been nothing but supportive though my journey of returning to writing.

I’m also gonna give love to @giishu and @f-ing-ruthless-baz because my newfound friendship with them has given me life. Thank you.

I’m working at being ok. Love to you all. Be kind to yourselves and to each other.

If you’re going through a hard time, I send you love and support. My inbox is always open to talk/cry/laugh about stupidities.

TW: Depression, thoughts of worthlessness. Suicidal thoughts.

Day 11 Prompt: Angst Day

Title: Let It Be

________________________________________________________________

When the night is cloudy, there is still a light that shines on me. Shine until tomorrow, let it be.

SIMON

It’s better if I lay here on the sofa.

That way, I can’t muck up anything more than what I’ve already mucked up.

It’s better if I lay here on the sofa.

That way, I don’t have to see the looks of pity and sadness on Baz’s and Penny’s faces. That way, Baz won’t have to look at me and realize that I’m not worth his time. I’m not worth anyone’s time.

It’s better if I lay here on the sofa.

That way, the constant light and hum of the television can help numb me of whatever I’m feeling inside.

Useless, wasted, worthless…

A fraud, a phony, a fake.

The colours outside my window turn from orange to yellow, to white. Then back to yellow, and orange, and finally to the deep blue of night. The cycle repeats day after day after day. I run the risk of losing track of time completely, if Penny and Baz weren’t here all the damn time.

And they are always here.

Always hovering, always asking me questions, always trying to get me to talk.

I don’t want to bloody talk! I want to sleep. I want to be alone. I want to disappear and no longer burden anyone.

Maybe it would have been better if the Humdrum had finished me off completely. Maybe it would have been better if I wasn’t around. Penny would be in America, with Micah and Baz would be moving on with someone more worthwhile. They would have moved on and found their place in this world. A world that I no longer belong to. A world that I never really belonged to.

It was all really a lie, wasn’t it? A beautifully crafted, perfectly executed lie. I was never meant to exist in the World of Mages. I am and have always been, just a Normal. Everything that I felt during the last 8 years of my life have been a part of that elaborate lie. The happiness, the power, the sense that I was a part of something amazing. All of it was a lie.

The friendship I felt with Penny, the love I felt with Baz; also lies. Those are the lies that hurt me the most, because they are persistent. They didn’t go away like the other lies. They didn’t go away with my magic. They didn’t go away when The Mage and the Humdrum were defeated. They didn’t go away when I failed to save Ebb’s life.

Instead, they stick around because they pity me. They stick around because they both made promises to me, and they don’t wish to break them. They stick around because maybe I make them feel better about themselves. If Penny or Baz have an off-day, well, at least they aren’t like me. At least they have their magic and at least they belong somewhere. No matter how much the world hurts them, they will never be as fucked up as me.

I can hear them now, in the kitchen, making some food. They’re always making me food, trying to get me to eat something. Just the thought of eating something makes me sick to my stomach. The smell is nauseating. I haven’t been able to keep anything down for very long. I mostly just eat the crisps I buy from the corner store and wash it down with some cider. Penny has nagged endlessly at me that I cannot sustain myself on a diet of crisps and cider. It was annoying at first, but now I’ve learned to drown her out.

A small voice inside is telling me that they’re doing it because they’re concerned for me and that they just want to help. I shut that voice up and insist that they see me as so pitiful that I can’t even cook for myself.

They’re probably right. I’d probably just end up setting the flat on fire. Let’s hope Baz isn’t nearby if I ever do attempt to cook for myself.

I know what will happen next. They’ll finish cooking whatever it is they’re cooking. One of them will sit at the table and do schoolwork while eating. The other will sit down on the sofa’s armrest and try to get me to eat something. Then they’ll switch places. That goes on for about a couple of hours, until the food’s gone cold. They’ll then wrap the food up and finally leave me in peace. They’ll study together for a few more hours until Baz decides he’s had enough and leaves for the night. Penny will usually go to bed once he leaves.

It’s at this time, where I finally get off the couch. I will walk to the balcony of the flat and just stare outside at the other buildings, the sky, the people, and the ground below. I will lean my body halfway over the edge and just stare at the ground below. I’ll stare and I’ll think and maybe I’ll push myself a little further over the edge. Maybe I’ll bring myself closer to the ground this time. Maybe I’ll finally have the courage to let go. Maybe I’ll finally have the courage to finally let Penny and Baz free from ever worrying about me again.

Or maybe I’ll be a coward and make my way back to the couch. More likely, it’ll be that outcome because I’ll think of their faces and how I just want to see them for one more day.

But, who’s to say really?

“Snow? Would you like some of this fettucini? Bunce has tried a new recipe and she’s convinced it’s good enough for Ramsey. I personally think she’s daft.”

So Baz has the first shift today. Very well then.

Here we go.

*****

I close the notebook and take a deep breath. The entry I’ve just read was from a very dark moment in my life. Or rather, it was a recollection of a very dark time in my life. I had written it at the suggestion of my therapist. He suggested that I start keeping a journal as a way to track my thoughts. That way, it would be easier for me to isolate the negative thoughts in my head. The belief was that, by isolating my thoughts, it would become easier to challenge them. By writing them down, they become tactile. By becoming tactile, they become easier to fight and replace with more positive thoughts.

I thought it was all bollocks at first and was not very good at tracking my thoughts. That is, until one of my intrusive thoughts settled into my brain and would not leave. It sat there and festered and festered, until it completely took over. That day, I nearly returned to the sofa and threw away everything that I had worked so hard to achieve. That day, I looked at Baz, and thought about the ways he would be better off without me and that maybe I should end it right now.

Instead of giving into my dark thoughts, I asked him if he had an empty notebook and a pen I could borrow. And because he is an absolute intellectual wanker, of course he had a spare notebook in his bag, as well as a burgundy pen (Baz likes to use non-conventional writing tools. He’s currently very excited about using fountain pens). I could tell from his eyes that he wanted desperately to ask me what was wrong. I gave him a sad smile and sat down at the table and began to write.

I wrote and I cried, and I thought back to that dark, depressing part of my life. Baz had made me some tea and sat down next to me, rubbing my shoulders and grabbing my hand when I needed it. I continued to write as he brought me some food and reheated my tea when it got cold. I cried, as he held my hand and ran his thumb over my rough knuckles. When I was done, I closed the book and let him hold me. I let him hold me while I cried onto his expensive shirt.

I now look at the entry and think about how far I have come since not only the day I wrote the entry, but also the time where I felt no hope. It’s been almost seven years since my last year at Watford, and I can’t believe how different my life has been since then. It hasn’t been easy and I still slip up from time to time.

My notebook has grown into a collection, spanning throughout my experiences volunteering with displaced youth, throughout my work as a counselor, and throughout my decision to go to University, specializing in Psychology. I turn to the framed diploma on the wall (Baz had wanted to get the most distinguished looking frame; I veto-ed it right away considering it was just an undergraduate’s diploma), and to the acceptance letters in my hand. I had gotten accepted into a Master’s program at both University College of London as well as Cambridge fucking University.

Imagine… Me, Simon Snow attending a University as prestigious as fucking Cambridge.

Cambridge.

I haven’t yet told Baz about my acceptance letters, but I have been talking about and stressing over this application process for nearly all of last year. I had gotten the letters this morning and I was planning on waiting until he got home before telling him.

Baz.

I think about Baz and how far we have come as a couple. When I think back to how we went from enemies, to lovers who could not communicate, to now being a healthy stable relationship. I can’t believe it sometimes. We do slip up and we do fight occasionally (rarely… if ever at all), but we always come back to each other. We needed some help in learning how to bridge that gap in communication, but after a lot of work, I think we’re starting to get to a point where we’re just happy together. The doubts about us barely linger in my mind anymore. Now, I just want to focus on making sure that Baz feels happy and secure with us. I do that by letting him know that I love him and care about him and that I will always be there for him.

We had been living together for almost a year (Penny had moved in with Shepard, after convincing him to stay in London -- like he was EVER going to leave Penny, the man is mad about her) (Baz’s aunt moved in with a Normal woman she had been seeing for years, so she wasn’t upset by the loss of a flat-mate) and I would say the biggest challenge has been learning how balance giving space and receiving love and affection. I would say that we’re not doing too shabby.

As if my thoughts summon him, Baz steps through the threshold of the flat, groceries in his arms. “Hello Love. How was your day?” He asks me. I love it when he calls me that… Love. I’m his Love, and he is mine. I smile and blush. It makes me happy that even after all this time, Baz can still make me blush like this.

“Hey babe… I uhhh… I have umm... some news.” Baz raises an eyebrow at me. He places the bags on top of the kitchen counter and walks over to me. He places a kiss on my head, when he notices the letters on the table. His eyes widen and he grabs both letters from the table.

Baz is quiet. I start picking at my cuticles and my leg starts to bounce. Baz looks at me, and it can only be described as a look of complete adoration. Seven years ago, I would have hated that look and fought it. Now, I smile back at him and grab his hand as I nod at him.

“Simon…” he breathes out. He settles slowly into the chair next to me. He looks at me and back to the letters. He gives my hand a squeeze and lifts it up to his face. He gives it a small kiss and nuzzles it softly. “Love, I knew you would make it in… Bloody Cambridge. I am so proud of you, my darling.”

I blush and momentarily look away from him, before I remember that it’s alright to feel vulnerable and that I’ve earned this moment of bliss. I look back at him and I can feel a few tears in my eyes. Baz cups my face in his hands and draws me into a deep kiss. I grab onto his face and I take in everything about him. His scent (still the same combination of cedar and bergamot that he’s always had), the cold of his hands, the softness of his lips. The light hum of his voice as he takes me in as well. He breaks our kiss and places another one on my forehead.

“Bloody Cambridge…” I gasp out, shaking my head. I still cannot believe it.

“Love… You’ve earned it!” Baz is running his fingers through my hair. I tip my head towards him, enjoying this calming touch.

“Can I handle it?”

Baz barks out a laugh. “You’ve killed a dragon during first year. You defeated a chimera during our fifth. You graduated Uni with honours! You can handle anything and everything!”

“But it’s so pretentious…” I make a face and stick my tongue out in disgust. Honestly, the thought of being surrounded by people who were probably more pretentious than Baz (wait… that may not be possible, no one is more pretentious than my posh boyfriend).

“Simon…” Baz raises an eyebrow at me. “I think you can handle a few pretentious snobs. You won me over without even trying.”

“I’ll be so far away.” I move closer to him and wrap my arms around his waist. Baz pulls me onto his lap and I settle into the crook of his neck. I nuzzle him a little and think about how crazy I’ll be without him near me everyday.

“I’ll come visit. Crowely, maybe I’ll even move there with you until you’ve done your Master’s.” Baz is lightly scratching my back and I let out a tiny moan. I fucking love it when he does that. I pull away from him for a second and wrap my arms around his neck. I stare into his stormy-grey eyes.

“I’m fucking terrified.” I whisper.

Baz’s lips curl up into a gentle half-smile. He trails his fingers over my arms. “And that’s alright. We’ll figure it out.”

“Together?”

“Together.”

Let it be, let it be, let it be, yeah let it be. There will be an answer, let it be. Let it be, let it be, let it be, yeah let it be. Whisper words of wisdom, let it be.

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writehardwhumpharder · 5 years ago

Text

FMA fic - Appendicitis and Fever 7k+ words

Ed didn’t think much of it when he woke up with a slight stomach ache for the second day in a row. Between researching the stone and doing missions for Mustang, he was beyond stressed and wondered how something like this hadn’t come up sooner. Al, of course, was as lively as ever, not the least bit exhausted from their nonstop work. In fact, he only seemed to get more hopeful and determined with every hour they spent reading in the library. Edward couldn’t stand to let his brother down so he put a smile on his face and got dressed. They had an early train to catch but once they were on their way to the next town in their search, Ed could spend the four hour train ride taking it easy.

“Are you ready to go brother? I don’t want to miss the train!” Al called excitedly from outside Ed’s room. They had plenty of time to get to the station and they both knew it but Edward tried to mimic his brother’s enthusiasm, throwing his coat on even quicker, the budding pain in his stomach long forgotten.

“Yeah Al just let me grab my things,” Edward laughed, grabbing the small suitcase tucked away in the corner. They probably wouldn’t be gone long enough to need a change of clothes but you never know and Ed used the rest of the space in the suitcase for a couple books and some paper that he’d need to write his report for Mustang and any other important notes he had.

Ed reluctantly allowed his to brother carry his bag for him. If he was being completely honest with himself hauling the heavy bag was making his side ache a little bit. Despite not having a human face, Al’s expression seemed to brighten at the thought of being useful. His soulfire eyes glowed happily. Ed wished he felt that good. Unlike Al, the smile on his face was a carefully constructed mask made for the sake of his brother.

They walked to the station and boarded the train fifteen minutes before its scheduled departure. Al stowed the bag on the shelf above them and sat down. Ed sank heavily into the seat across from him.

“Are you okay, brother?” Al asked, picking up on Ed’s subtle discomfort.

“I’m fine. But I make it a point not to wake up before eight and today is no exception. I’m gonna take a nap, you won’t be too bored will you?” Ed asked as he settled across the bench. His small stature allowed him to lay down on the seat easily. They had gotten up earlier than usual that morning so Al thought nothing of it when Ed laid down and closed his eyes.

“Go ahead,” he said, turning to face out the window where the city would shift into rolling hills as they went by once the train got moving. After everyone else was settled on board, the train jolted to life sending a sharp but quick pain through Edward’s stomach. He contained the grimace before his face could react and immediately went back to resting. Maybe he ate something that didn’t agree with him. Again Edward dismissed the thought in favor of drifting back into a light sleep.

Al was perfectly content to look out the window as they passed some farms and smaller towns. The hills were dotted with sheep and cows and Al wished brother was awake so he could point them out to him. But Ed was still sleeping which was a little odd. It was nearly eleven and Ed never had any breakfast. Al decided he’d rather wake up his brother with some food and coffee to offer him, knowing how cranky he got when he was hungry, so he got up and headed to the car with food and drinks. He picked out a bagel that looked good and ordered a coffee, pouring in just a hint of milk and a lot of sugar, just they way his brother liked it. Solemnly, Al thought about how he couldn’t smell or taste the food he was holding as he made his way back to where Ed was sleeping. To his surprise Ed was awake and sitting up when he got back.

“I was just about to start looking for you,” Ed said, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes. Since Al himself wouldn’t need to leave to go to the bathroom or grab food he was surprised to wake up and see him gone.

“I just went to get you some breakfast, I figured you’d be hungry when you woke up,” Al said cheerfully, setting the bagel and coffee down in front of him. Ed was surprised to find that he actually wasn’t hungry but Al had gone through the trouble of getting it for him so he’d eat every last bite of it. He also knew that hungry or not his automail needed constant fuel to function properly.

“Thanks Al, this looks great,” he said taking a large bite from the bagel. It didn’t taste bad, but it didn’t taste good either. He wolfed down the food and coffee though like he always did, not wanting to worry Al. Which was stupid because there was nothing to worry about.

“Do you think we’ll find anything here?” Al asked suddenly. Edward drew his attention away from the window.

“I don’t think we’re going to pop in, grab the stone, then head back to Central but I’m sure we’ll find out something important that gets us a little closer to the stone,” Ed said with what he thought was a reasonable amount of hope. That was how these things usually went. They would go to a small town looking for the stone and inevitably find some kind of trouble. If there was anything the brothers could do for the people they would do it, using their alchemy to quickly fix things in desperate need of repair. And in the unlikeliest of places they found some important piece of information which took them right back to the library and Mustang’s office respectively.

Edward couldn’t be more relieved when the train finally rolled to a stop. He was starting to get motion sick. Al followed Ed off, carrying the suitcase with ease. Edward paused to take a deep breath, the air was just so refreshing and cold. It took some kind of weight off his shoulders.

“What is it?” Al asked.

“The weather is perfect today, being in the city makes me forget just how nice fresh air is,” Ed said. Al didn’t comment, he had nothing to say about the wind that he couldn’t feel. Ed’s heart sank, “Sorry…” he started.

“Don’t apologize,” Al said quickly, already knowing where his brother’s mind was going. There wasn’t a single day that Ed didn’t regret what he did, it should have been him. Al seemingly read his mind again, “If you were the one that lost your body, I wouldn’t have been able to bind your soul like you did for me, then I’d have to live without you. I wouldn’t want that. This way we can still be together, and we’ll both get our bodies back.” Al said.

Edward wondered just how his brother always managed to stay so positive. Maybe he was right, there was no use dwelling on it now. Why was he so emotional all of a sudden anyway?

Edward quickly shoved his feelings aside, mental and otherwise, and proceeded forward, “Come on, let’s go find this alchemist.”

***

The sun was now high in sky and the pleasant breeze hadn’t gone away but Ed felt like it was only getting warmer and warmer outside. He was glad that Al couldn’t feel things like temperature because he certainly would have questioned it when Ed was forced to take his coat off.

“Man, the sun really came out since we got here,” Ed commented casually as they walked through the small town. The cobblestone streets weren’t quite wide enough for cars so everyone walked to and from work. They were looking for a retired author whose notes on alchemy they had come across in the Central library. Thankfully they hadn’t come looking for a fight, the promise of information on the philosopher’s stone their only reason for the visit. Given the ever present cramp in Ed’s side which ached with every step he was glad he wouldn’t have to do any serious alchemy.

Ed pulled the scribbled note out of his jacket pocket and double checked the address. The house in front of them was looking a little worse for wear, not at all what they expected of a renowned scientist and author. Then again if he moved all the way out here he probably wasn’t trying to draw too much attention to himself. When they ran the idea past Colonel Bastard he said that the man had been very cooperative with the military in the past and probably didn’t pose a threat. Ed and Al were still a little on guard though as Ed approached the door, Al standing just a few steps behind him.

“Mr. Haruta?” Ed called as he knocked on the door. The door opened abruptly and Ed almost stumbled inside, finding a gun aimed right at his chest. Every muscle in his body froze up and he readied himself to jump out of the way. A startled looking man stared down at him behind a pair of glasses.

“Oh, I’m so sorry, no one has called me that name in a long time,” he sighed, lowering the gun, “You must be the Elric brothers, do come in.” he said politely as if he’d been expecting them.

Ed and Al exchanged looks, “How did you-“

“It’s my job to know these things, I may be retired but that doesn’t mean I don’t keep up with the news. What brings you here?” Mr. Haruta asked. Ed and Al stepped inside hesitantly, understanding that this may be a conversation he wouldn’t like to have on his porch in plain view.

“My brother and I have been reading some of your books on alchemy and have a few questions.” Ed explained with a smile. The older man gestured for them to sit down which Ed gladly did. Being off his feet did help a little with the growing pain in his stomach that sat like a ball of lead weighing him down. Despite his long nap this morning Ed was oddly exhausted. The couch dipped beside him as Al sat down.

“Which books would those be?” Mr. Haruta asked, sitting down in an armchair across from them.

“The fifth volume, specifically the part where you theorize about the making of a philosopher’s stone.” Ed said cautiously. Normally he wouldn’t lay it all out like that but he was hoping to catch the train back to Central later today and they didn’t have much time to waste if they were accomplish everything they came to do and avoid being stuck here an extra day. Mr. Haruta’s face hardened into an unreadable expression. Al felt his brother tense beside him, unsure of how the alchemist would react to that question.

“There is a reason those books are classified, they are dangerous and I will not discuss them,” He said strongly, keeping his voice from being too harsh. To be fair he’d been caught completely off guard by the question.

“Please sir, whether you help us or not we will find the philosopher’s stone,” Al interjected, his voice grew quiet, “we have to.”

Mr. Haruta shook his head uncertainly, “I am familiar with your… predicament. But I vowed never to pursue the stone again and I would advise you to do the same.” The way he said it the brothers knew that his decision was final. His face softened again, “since you’ve come all this way why don’t you stay for lunch and tea. I just made it before you arrived, should still be warm.” He said, getting up to grab the dishes from the kitchen. Since Ed was fairly certain that the man wouldn’t have had any time to poison the food he graciously accepted the offer, hoping the warm tea might ease some of the hollow ache spreading through him. He seemed like a nice man but Ed had met plenty of “nice” men before and he had to worry about these things. Mr. Haruta brought out a tea kettle and three cups as well a pot of stew. The meal had clearly been made for one but they managed to spread it between them. He poured three cups of tea and offered Ed a bowl for the stew, apparently planning on eating the meal in the living room rather than the formal dining room. Al picked up his cup of tea, unable to drink it, feel its warmth, or even smell its herbal aroma. He was grateful though that Mr. Haruta had bothered to give him any tea at all knowing he wasn’t able to drink it. It made him feel included. Ed ladled some stew into his bowl and stared at it curiously.

“Something wrong?” Mr. Haruta asked with a hint of concern. Ed started to answer him but he suddenly closed his mouth, setting the bowl down on the coffee table. He swallowed thickly and took a steadying breath before speaking.

“Actually, would you mind if I used your bathroom?” he asked, voice quivering slightly.

“Sure it’s right down that hall,” their host pointed. Ed wasted no time getting up from the couch practically running toward the bathroom, slamming the door shut behind him. It had come on so suddenly. The smell of the food was enough to make his stomach turn and he fell down next to the toilet, heaving up the bagel and coffee he’d had on the train. Al’s voice drifted in from outside the bathroom door.

“Brother?! Are you okay? I’m coming in.” He said. Ed quickly flushed the toilet. Though he knew Al couldn’t smell the vomit he was still embarrassed about him seeing him like this.

“Okay,” he grumbled, knowing Al would come in either way. He leaned his head on his arm which was draped over the edge of the toilet bowl. He felt miserable — sick, dizzy, achy, and suddenly way too hot. Al moved past him to the sink and wet a washcloth and wiped his mouth clean before refolding it to put on his forehead. Ed couldn’t have been more grateful and he took the cloth from his brother, holding it to his face himself. He could do that much.

“What’s wrong?” Al asked, trying and failing to hide how concerned he was for his brother.

“I don’t know, I just felt sick all of a sudden.” Ed explained, leaving out that he’d had a stomachache all day before it climaxed just now. “Let’s just go back to Central okay? Mr. Haruta won’t give us any information on the stone so we might as well go home and get some rest before I have to hand in my report.”

“We can’t travel with you feeling like this. I saw a nice inn in town by the train station, we can leave tomorrow morning if you’re feeling better.” Al said, grabbing his brother by the shoulders to help him to his feet. They still had plenty of time before the last train would leave so Ed didn’t see the harm in laying down for a couple hours. Maybe by then Al would calm down and agree to heading home. Mr. Haruta appeared at the end of the hall.

“Is everything okay?” He asked, seeing how pale Edward looked. He was pretty sure he knew what had happened but he didn’t want to pry.

“Yes everything is fine, Edward is just a little sick so we’re going to the hotel. Sorry to have bothered you.” Al said as they walked to the door.

“Wait. Hold on just a minute,” Mr. Haruta looked conflicted but he had made up his mind seeing how the brothers looked out for each other. He could make an exception for them. Finding a scrap of paper and a pen he wrote something down, thrusting it into Al’s metal hands hoping he wasn’t making a mistake that would get the two boys hurt. It didn’t seem like they could get more hurt than they already were.

“Take this before I change my mind. And good luck,” he said. Al thanked him and Edward managed to mumble a thank you as well, still looking pretty pale and shaky. After a few more steps Edward felt strong enough to walk on his own, sliding out of Al’s grip.

“I’m alright now Al, really, the smell of the stew was just a bit overwhelming and my stomach hurt-“ Ed started, only to be cut off.

“When did that start?” He asked, knowing Ed had a tendency to hide this sort of thing.

“What?” He asked innocently, hoping to just skip over it.

“You didn’t tell me your stomach hurt.” Al said, if he still had a human face Ed was sure his brows would be scrunched together, his eyes narrowing in suspicion.

“I didn’t mention it because it’s not a big deal.” Ed lied.

“You promise?” Al asked with the voice of a little brother much younger than he actually was. His heart panged at the thought of blatantly lying to him.

“I promise,” He said, flashing Al a little smile as if to prove how okay he was. Al wasn’t too sure he believed him but his brother had promised so he dropped it for now. They rounded the corner and approached the small inn framed under a cheerful yellow awning.

A woman behind the counter perked up at the sight of them, “can I help you boys?”

“Yes we’d like a room for the night, whatever is cheapest,” Ed said, leaning heavily on the counter. While he did have plenty of funds from being a state alchemist he didn’t intend on spending much time in the room.

“Very well, we have a room with a queen bed on the first floor, we also serve basic meals,” she said kindly.

“Perfect, we’ll take it,” Ed handed her the money and she led them down a short hallway to the room. After unlocking it for them she handed off the key and told them she would be available at the front desk if they needed anything. There was a phone out there they could use as well since there wasn’t one in each of the rooms.

Setting down Ed’s suitcase Al watched his brother take off his coat and jacket before laying face down on the bed. Al couldn’t help but notice his movements were a little stiff, but he chalked it up to not wanting to upset his stomach further. Al could hardly remember now what having a body felt like so it was hard for him to determine whether Ed was actually okay or not. He seemed to relax as he sank into the mattress.

“I’ll call the Colonel and tell him we’re coming back tomorrow morning,” Al said. Edward abruptly sat up, concealing a wince.

“Don’t call him, we can take the train out tonight, I’m fine, really.” Ed assured him. Al hesitated by the door but ultimately gave in to his brother and sat down on the chair in the corner of the room.

“Fine, but for now you should just get some more sleep.”

“Hey, what did Mr. Haruta give you?” Ed asked. Sleeping sounded pretty good to him right about then but if they had a lead, that was more important.

“It’s a list of books in the Central library, just the call numbers and a couple names. It’s nothing we can look into now so don’t worry about it.”

Ed groaned, he was probably right.

***

When Ed woke up again it was dark outside, Al still sat in the same spot as he did before but his suitcase was open and a few things having been unpacked.

“What time is it?” Ed demanded, “why didn’t you wake me?”

“You were sick, I thought it best just to let you sleep, there’s no rush to get back home,” Al said. The hell there wasn’t. The pain in Ed’s stomach only seemed to get worse and he desperately wanted to be back in his own bed, not some random hotel room in a different city. He wondered for a second if that was Al’s plan was all along, to let him sleep through the last departure back to Central. That was crazy though, he wouldn’t be that conniving.

“I could have slept on the train, Al. Now we’re stuck here until tomorrow,” Ed whined.

“Actually it’s about 1am now, the next train leaves in four hours so stop pouting.” Al said. Crap, had he really been sleeping that long? He vaguely remembered waking up a couple times, only to resign back to sleep when the pain in his side got to be too much. He wasn’t sure how he could possibly convince Al that he was fine after sleeping through the second half of the day but he really was feeling better.

Ed got up from the bed and walked around to the desk, snatching up the slip of paper Mr. Haruta gave them.

“You said there was nothing we could get started on. I see three names listed here we could start looking into,” Ed said walking over to the small stack of books resting next to his suitcase. One of them was a book checked out of the library dedicated solely to personnel records from the last two decades. If any of these people were alchemists or military he could find out and that would give them some idea as to where to start their next search. Ed dragged the chair opposite Al out from under the desk and sat down, opening the book on military records. He scanned through the different sections and titles looking for the names. Ed was a little surprised to find that none of the people had been state alchemists but two of the names were listed in the book. The first was a women who served as a personal assistant to an alchemist ten years ago, the second was a scientist who had also served in the military four years ago. Once they got back to Central they could start looking for a connection between them.

Ed managed to stay awake until they had to get ready to head to the train station, he couldn’t fathom the idea of going back to sleep after wasting half the day before. As exhausted as he felt, he had to keep moving forward, for Al, but when he was about to stand up from his chair a flicker of doubt stopped him.

“Hey Al could you call ahead and let the bastard know I’ll report in around 9am but might be a few minutes late,” He said trying to get his brother’s back turned for a few moments so he could collect himself. Also it was better to just tell the guy that he might be late so the Colonel wouldn’t start getting irritated after only ten minutes of waiting. Once Al was out of the room Ed stood up, unsurprised when a wave of dizziness threatened to knock him back down. His blood roared in his ears and it took a minute to get his bearings. He managed to at least look steady on his feet as they checked out. The station was only a block away, Ed could manage walking for that long, couldn’t he?

He found himself shivering against the wind, the cold seemed to penetrate all the way down to his core. He wrapped his coat around himself tighter, but when that didn’t work Ed realized that nothing would because it wasn’t the weather that was messed up, it was him. Ed chanced a touch to his forehead when Al wasn’t looking, confirming that he likely had the beginnings of a fever. He’d almost gotten used to the steady throb in the right side of his stomach as well. Looking back, the fever must have been worse than he realized because the idea that something might actually be wrong didn’t even occur to him as the pain continued to worsen. If he had eaten anything since yesterday morning he was sure he would have thrown it up by now so he was glad that the biting hollowness in his stomach was worth it if it kept him from having to repeat yesterdays events.

Ed leaned his head against the cold window as he stared down at the blank page in front of him. He still needed to write his stupid report. He had gotten halfway through it when realized that he’d literally addressed it to Colonel Bastard. His brain was starting to feel like warm jello so rather than starting a fresh report like he should, Ed crossed out the name and rewrote Mustang above it. He didn’t bother to hide the mistake very well, and if he didn’t feel like his stomach might burst into flames at the action, he would have laughed at the subtle insult. Al glanced over at him often during the train ride. It was still terribly early in the morning though so both boys were happy to spend it in peaceful silence.

Edward tensed suddenly, grabbing his side under the table. Only one thought consumed his fevered mind at this point — he couldn’t let Al know. He had no idea why that was so important but he avoided showing any kind of vulnerability at all costs, even if he was just with his brother. The pain was starting to make him sweat so Ed got up to go to the bathroom to clean up a little.

“Where are you going?” Al asked, seeing his brother shift in discomfort as he got to his feet.

“Bathroom, be right back,” Ed said. Walking proved to be more of a challenge than it should have been and once he was in a different car from his brother he allowed his flesh hand to grip his stomach, curling in on himself in hopes that that would somehow help with the pain. Sweat beaded on his forehead and he got more nauseas with every second he was upright. Someone else reached the bathroom at the same time he did but they took one look at the ill boy and insisted he go first.

Ed gave a lazy nod of thanks and scrambled into the bathroom, bolting the door behind him. He used the rim of the sink to gently lower himself to the ground where he positioned his head over the toilet. There was nothing left in his stomach but his body insisted on purging it anyway. Ed dry-heaved until he thought he might actually start puking up his intestines. Every contraction of his stomach sent a wave of red hot pain through his body.

Once his body had finally given up on the futile act, Ed dabbed at the sweat gathering above his brow. He stood up carefully, being sure not to straighten up too quickly. Despite his efforts Ed was assaulted with dizziness as he lifted his head and he was back on the floor before he even knew what was happening. “Did I just pass out?” he wondered, looking up at the ceiling of the small bathroom. It could have only been a few seconds but Ed had the unmistakable feeling of waking up. Surprisingly, after having lost consciousness for a short second he didn’t feel nearly as dizzy as he did before. The fever ravaging his body was still there and the pain pulsed along like a second heartbeat but he didn’t feel like he was going to faint again so he slowly got back to his feet again, leaning on the sink for support. The mirror in front of him showed that he looked paler than usual, the thin sheen of sweat only making him look sicker. His eyes lacked their usual spark, seeming dull and glazed over. He didn’t care how bad he looked though, he was determined to deliver his report and go home without incident. Why, he didn’t know, since he did enjoy purposely frustrating the Colonel. Deep down he knew he was worried someone would send him to the hospital and his skin crawled at the thought of Al worrying about him more.

“I’d better get back,” Ed thought, realizing he had been staring at the mirror for who knows how long, he’d kind of spaced out and when his mind did come back to him he accidentally said his thoughts out loud. Al must be getting suspicious. He rubbed as much life back into his face as he could and pushed himself away from the sink, standing on his own for a second just to make sure that he could before walking back towards the car Al was waiting in. He nearly bumped into him as he slid the connecting door open.

“Oh, brother, I was just coming to check on you. What took you so long?” Al asked as he stepped aside so Ed could walk back to their sits.

“You can’t just ask people why they took a long time in the bathroom, Al,” he chided, trying to sound vaguely offended at the question.

“Right, sorry.”

Ed picked the report back up to continue where he left off but when his eyes scanned the page letters blurred together, the words swirling dizzyingly on the paper. He blinked a couple times and decided to just add a couple more sentences summarizing their findings, then he could put it away. Mustang was used to less than stellar reports from him. Ed let the ink dry before folding the paper and sticking it in his coat pocket. Why on earth was he still wearing it? It was like 100 degrees in there. Slipping out of his coat, Ed groaned when he accidentally twisted his torso the wrong way.

“Are you alright?” Al asked. Everyone else on the train still had their coats on and seemed just fine, Ed was sweating visibly through his shirt.

“Yeah fine,” Ed said, sounding a little distracted.

***

The rest of the ride back to Central was a blur. The brothers stepped off the train, Al still carrying Ed’s luggage. Normally he would have insisted on carrying it himself but he seemed tired so Al didn’t even give him the chance. Not that Ed even noticed. They were surprised when they saw a familiar black car idling by the curb. Hawkeye sat behind the wheel, Havoc was next to her in the passenger seat smoking a cigarette, blowing the smoke out the open window. The scent almost made Ed want to hurl again but he pushed the thought out of his mind and climbed into the backseat when Hawkeye told him to hop in. Apparently Roy wanted them all back at his office immediately. The only issue was that there simply wasn’t enough room in the back for both Ed and Al. Al noticed and casually said he was just going to go straight back to the dorms, getting the hint that they probably didn’t want him going with them. It was like that sometimes, with Ed being the state alchemist and all. Sometimes things were above his clearance or there just wasn’t a reason for him accompanying Edward. Ed watched him disappear in the direction of the dorms as the car pulled back onto the street.

He took a moment to thank the gods that Hawkeye was such a good driver. She avoided every pothole with ease and made smooth, gentle turns. He wasn’t sure he could have made it if it was Havoc driving instead who paid no mind to the bumps in the road and sometimes didn’t even slow down before veering onto another street.

“Could you stop smoking please?” Ed asked quietly. He hoped that they hadn’t picked up on the way he gripped his stomach that burned with pain, or the way he grew pale whenever the smoke drifted into the backseat. Asking Havoc to stop smoking was like asking a person to stop breathing but the man reluctantly put it out and put his cigarette case and lighter back in his pocket. The fact that Ed was just a kid, far too young to be smoking, especially when he obviously still had some growing to do, made him a little more compliant. Hawkeye eyed him in the rearview mirror.

“You don’t usually mind the smoke, something bothering you today?” She asked, taking in the circles under his eyes and the unusual paleness to his skin.

“No, just didn’t get much sleep, and besides, smoking is gross,” he deflected, which might be the most boldfaced lie he’d told all year. He slept over twelve hours yesterday if you combined each of his naps but Hawkeye didn’t know that and Al wasn’t there to contradict him. All he needed to do now was turn in his written report, he could probably get out of reciting it if he played his cards right. He had to wonder though why they had bothered to pick him up at the train station.

“So what’s going on? What’s so urgent that I couldn’t just walk like usual?” He asked, forcing more strength into his voice than he had.

“Big meeting, we can’t get into it now but he wants to brief us all on a new threat,” She said. Being Mustang’s assistant Ed had no doubt she knew exactly what was going on but it was apparently secret enough that they couldn’t talk about it until there were behind closed doors. Ed briefly considered telling them that he was sick at the thought of enduring a meeting on top of reporting in but he couldn’t bring himself to admit how much pain he was in. He also suspected his fever had gone up significantly since leaving the hotel, oh well, he could sleep when he got back to the dorms. He probably just caught some stupid stomach bug.

As they neared the building Ed started to panic as he realized he’d have to walk up all those steps. His legs felt weak, like they might not support him when he stood up. Edward was stubborn though, he’d make it through this meeting with sheer will power if he had to. He was the god damn Fullmetal A-

“Are you coming Fullmetal?” Hawkeye asked, holding the door open for him. He hadn’t even noticed that they had arrived.

“Yeah of course,” Ed said, hopping out of the car only to start swaying when his feet hit the ground. Hawkeye quickly grabbed his elbow to steady him. He looked much worse out in the sunlight where she could see the slight shine of sweat on his skin that came with the fever.

“Really, be honest, are you okay?” Her voice was stern yet caring.

“Yeah, I’m fine, I swear. It’s just this heat,” Ed said, shooting a glare at the looming sun.

“What heat?” She asked, really starting to get concerned. Shit, he had slipped and his mind was moving too slowly to come up with a realistic excuse for it.

“Oh nothing,” he smiled, jerking his arm out of her grasp. She followed him up the stairs, he still looked a little shaky but seemed okay. Maybe he really was just tired. Mustang had a tendency to overwork the boy, partly to keep him from getting into more trouble and partly to instill some level of military work ethic.

They made their way to Roy’s office where a few other military personnel were waiting including Hughes and people Ed didn’t recognize.

“Thank you for joining us Fullmetal, I hoped to address everyone at once but since you’re late as usual you missed most of the briefing.” Mustang said, leaning against his desk. Then he looked out at the officers sitting and standing near the two couches, “If you have no further questions you are dismissed.”

Everyone got up and filed out of his office. Havoc followed them out leaving only Mustang, Hawkeye, and Ed. The room somehow got more suffocating with just the three of them if that was even possible. Ed didn’t wait for permission to go sit down on one of the couches. The pain was getting to be too much to bear and he wasn’t sure how much longer he could hide it. Roy didn’t comment on Ed’s lack of manners. That was nothing new. He set down a folder on the coffee table for him to look at and started talking. Ed took the opportunity to reach one hand under his jacket while he was hunched over the file, pretending to read it. He caught bits and pieces of what Mustang was saying but it didn’t quite make it through his brain.

“..so make sure to be careful of that.” He said, walking around his desk to sit down. Hawkeye took up her position next to him.

“About what?” Ed asked, sounding genuinely confused.

“Have you been paying any attention at all? This is serious,” asked the Colonel, frustration evident in his voice. He sighed deeply, “Just bring it here,” he said, talking about his mission report.

“What? You mean… the file?” he said, looking at he pages in front of him. He gathered them up and made to stand but before he got that far sharp pain exploded from his right side at the movement and he gasped, falling back onto the sofa.

“Did you hit your head or something? I meant your mission report. Turn that in and you can go home and get some rest.” Mustang said as if it was painfully obvious, which it was to everyone but Ed.

“What report? Why are you yelling at me?” Ed said, cradling his head in one hand. His words slurred slightly and both Mustang and Hawkeye caught it, exchanging worried glances. At Roy’s nod Hawkeye approached Fullmetal.

He tensed suddenly, folding in on himself with his arms wrapped tightly around his middle, “Oh god…” he moaned in pain.

Riza crouched down in front of him, “What’s wrong?!” she asked looking him over for wounds. His face was scrunched up in pain now and his breathing became ragged. Hawkeye tried to move his hands away from his stomach so she could get a look at him but Ed only curled tighter. When she successfully forced him to straighten out a little he yelped loudly.

“Fuck, fuck it hurts.” Ed said through clenched teeth. She felt bad causing him more pain but they needed to figure out what was wrong so they could help him. She held the back of her hand up to his forehead, drawing it back quickly.

“Oh my god, he’s burning up. Roy, call a medic,” She said urgently. Mustang picked up the phone at his subordinate’s orders and started barking into it to whoever was on the other side.

The burning pain started to blur along with his vision and Ed pitched over sideways onto the couch when he got too dizzy to stay sitting. Riza muttered comforting words that he couldn’t quite understand. He started to go slack and she slapped at his face desperately, “You have to stay awake Fullmetal, medics are coming but you have to let us help you. Let me know if this hurts.” She knew the pain was coming from his stomach by the way he kept trying to curl into a ball with his arms covering it. In the brief moment that he was too out of it to stop her she pressed down and Ed jolted back to alertness screaming in a way that they had never heard from him before. When she removed her hand he only seemed to scream louder. His eyes rolled back, trying to escape into unconsciousness but Hawkeye wouldn’t let him.

“No I don’t know what’s wrong with him just send help and hurry,” Mustang slammed the phone down in frustration. The medics knew where to find them and he didn’t have any more answers so their questions so he hung up and ran to where his subordinate laid on the couch in utter agony.

“What’s going on?” He asked, a little out of breath.

Hawkeye’s face hardened, “I think its his appendix, he has a really high fever and the pain seems to be coming from the right side of his stomach. Roy brushed away some of the hair sticking to Ed’s forehead, getting a feel for his temperature. He too jerked his hand back as if afraid he was going to get burned.

“I’ll, I’ll get a cold cloth,” he stammered, completely out of his element.

“Don’t… don’t make me go…” Ed whined deliriously. Hawkeye’s heart broke at how young and fragile he looked in that moment, “don’t let them take me.”

“Shhh, calm down Ed we’re here to help you.” Ed blinked at her as if he didn’t recognize her face. She had no idea what he was talking about but she tried to comfort him anyway, “No one is taking you anywhere yet.”

Ed started to shake, his face grew even more pale, a deathly white compared to the rest of his flushed skin, “I don’t want to go to the hospital,” he cried hysterically. If it really was his appendix they would have no choice but to take him. He’d likely need surgery, and soon.

Mustang came back a moment later with a wet cloth that he laid on Ed’s burning forehead, he used it to dab at his face and neck too. They both cursed themselves for not noticing sooner. He must have been in terrible pain for a while now for it to be this bad.

Ed lurched, leaning over like he was going to throw up again but there was nothing left to throw up. His stomach convulsed sending a wave of pain worse than anything he’d ever felt through his body. His breath caught in his throat, unable to even get enough air in his lungs to scream in agony. His eyes grew vacant as he came close to blacking out from the pain.

“Stay with us, Fullmetal,” Roy ordered as he gripping the boy’s shoulder to keep his attention. To his surprise Ed snapped his eyes open again, fighting to obey the order. He stared at the two of them, you could see it in his face somehow that his mind wasn’t working right, that he was delirious from the fever.

“Where’s Al?” he whimpered, “he needs me.”

“Al is fine Ed, don’t worry about that,” Roy said, still dabbing at the kids neck. If he weren’t worried for his subordinate’s life he might have felt awkward about touching the kid’s face so tenderly, “you’re gonna be fine too,” he said, trying to be soothing. He turned to Hawkeye, “guide the medics in, they should be here any second.”

She got up and rushed out the door returning two minutes later with two medics and a gurney. Ed had deteriorated even more in those short minutes. Roy was glad no one was there to see the single tear that escaped his eye as fear started to take over. A woman shoved Roy aside, none too gently, to get immediate access to the patient. Ed was still conscious, barely, moaning in pain and staring off into space. The two medics got the gurney level with the couch and lifted him as gently as they could. Ed didn’t have the energy to scream but he did make some horrible strangled sound of pain. The woman shined a light in his eyes as the man raised the gurney and reached under Ed’s shirt to assess him.

“He’ll need to go straight into surgery. I think his appendix already burst.” The medics talked to each other as they wheeled him out at top speed, leaving Hawkeye and Mustang standing there speechless. Luckily the military hospital was connected to this building and they could get him into surgery in no time. They just had to hope that it was enough, knowing that if his appendix already ruptured it might be too late.

“Do you think he’s going to be okay?” Hawkeye asked quietly.

“He’s too stubborn to let his own organ kill him, I’m sure he’ll recover. After all he has been through worse,” Mustang said sadly, though with a little bit of parental pride. Ed was a strong kid, he was sure of that.

#Fullmetal alchemist #Edward Elric #whump #whump fic #pain #fever #appendicitis #delirious

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stargazerlilith · 6 years ago

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Fic Roundup 2018

Total year-long word count:

52, 589 which is almost 33k less than last year

Word count by fandom:

FMA: 18,851

BSD: 33,738

Fics completed:

Drabbles:

No Drabbles this year.

Oneshots:

Luckiest Man: BSD, Skk, Sfw/Abo

Death by Chuuya™: BSD, Skk, Nfsw

Bound and Gagged: BSD, Skk, Nfsw

Sexual Healing: BSD, Skk, Nfsw

Love, Dazai: BSD, Skk, Sfw

Say It!: BSD, Skk, Nfsw

His God: BSD, Skk, Nfsw

Daddy: BSD, Hirostu/Reader, Nsfw

This Time: BSD, Skk, Sfw

Praise by Thy Name: BSD, Hawthorne/Reader, Nsfw

Run to You: BSD, Skk, Nfsw

Can’t Have This: BSD, Skk, Sfw

Just Let Me Go: BSD, Skk, Sfw /MCD

Popcorn Kisses: BSD, SKK, SFW

Chapter Fics:

None Completed this year

Works-in-progress:

Dancing with the Devil: First Chapter: BSD, Skk, Nsfw

Heathens: Chapter 10 and 11: FMA, RoyEd, NSFW

Rock The Night: Chapter 1: BSD, Skk, Sfw

This year I wrote and posted:

16 New stories

2 Chapter updates

Looking back, did you write more fic than you thought you would this year, less, or about what you’d predicted?

Less than I had wanted to. But that was due to studying for state exams, my daughter getting sick, and other personal things getting in the way.

What pairing/genre/fandom did you write that you would never have predicted in January?

I would never guess that I would write reader inserts and all the smut that I did. The reader inserts were a first for me. I would never have predicted staying in one fandom either minus the chapter updates for WIP. That was a first for me as well.

What’s your own favorite story of the year? Not the most popular, but the one that makes you happiest?

To be honest, Luckiest Man is a favorite. It was an indulgence of mine.

Did you take any writing risks this year? What did you learn from them?

I did. I wrote ABO and more kinks. I played with my style a bit. I wrote my first ever reader inserts and they went better than expected. I learned I am decent at writing those tropes and a bit wordy. Working on that.

Your best story of this year:

I really don’t know. I don’t have that ‘Ah-Ha!’ moment with any of them. I writing developed more, but I couldn’t tell you which one I think is the best reflection of that.

Your most popular story of this year:

My most popular is Luckiest Man.

Story of yours most under-appreciated by the universe, in your opinion:

Rock the Night is one of them, but I know it is because it is still at its first chapter and nothing really has happened yet.

Can’t Have This is another because it’s just fun and I think we could all use a little more fun.

Most fun story to write:

Daddy and Praise by Thy Name. It was a different style and I had fun writing it.

Story with the single sexiest moment:

Heathens, Edward has some ‘fun’ with Dazai.

Most “Holy crap, that’s wrong, even for you” story:

I don’t think I had a moment like that.

Story that shifted your own perceptions of the characters:

I haven’t had that moment yet. It may come this upcoming year.

Hardest story to write:

Heathens and Devil were really hard to write.

Heathens because I am heading towards the end and I got a bit discouraged with it.

Devil was hard because it was a different pov and very smutty. There are actual parts of smut that were cut out from it.

Biggest disappointment:

As far as my stories, I thought Run to You would get a little more love than it did. But otherwise, I am happy with it.

Biggest surprise:

Luckiest Man, I didn’t expect it to have such an impact.

Most unintentionally telling story:

Run to You and Just Let Me Go: some of my own feelings with grief had seeped into those.

Favorite opening line(s):

The world around him glimmered. Bright neon lights swept across the dark marble floors, shimmering against the darkness in an intricate array of colour. Bodies moved sensually, beckoning each newcomer into their midst with murmurs of seduction. — Dancing with the Devil, Part 1

There was no light, no sound, just deafening silence. Roy glanced around the room trying to figure out how he ended up here. He knew this room, had seen it a dozen times. He never wanted to be in this room. This room was reserved for special treatments. Treatments only Wrath himself with a selected few carried out. — Heathens, Chapter 11

He waited in the eclipsing darkness. The drums began their opening, the echo of each note ringing into the night. Claps and stomps filled the square in excitement, matching the beat. The feel of the bass filled his bones, the beat coming together in perfect harmony. Nimble notes of the guitar joined the melody as adrenaline coursed through his veins. The chants and cries of the crowd became louder—revving up in excitement...calling for him. — Rock The Night, Chapter 1

Favorite closing line(s):

He closed his eyes; the sound of the door as it clicked closed piercing through his heart like nails into a coffin. — Heathens, Chapter 10

Laughter mixed with sighs of pleasures filled the room while Dazai showed his mate just how thankful he was. — Luckiest Man

Dazai smirked against his lips and Chuuya felt a shiver run down his spine. He felt sorry for the Boss of the Port Mafia. After all, Oda had always said: “The worst thing for Dazai's enemies was the fact that they were his enemies.” — Run To You

Letting the alcohol take him away, he ignored the warm breath against his ear. He sighed when long slender fingers carded through his hair tenderly. His heart shuttered, feeling Chuuya’s sweet voice caressing his soul and shattering him to a million pieces. — Just Let Me Go

Favorite 5 line(s) from anywhere:

“So, damn beautiful. Just look at you, tenshi. Spread out below me like the an offering for the goddess Amateras. I want to take you apart inch by inch before slowly putting you back together, Ed-ward. Let them see how I wreck you,” Dazai breathed against his ear, letting go of Edward’s {redact}. — Heathens, Chapter 10

Death by Chuuya™, what a way to go. — Death by Chuuya™

He’s not tender about it. He wants you to feel him for days after. Wants you to know that only he can make you feel this way, so full and complete. He wants you fucked out to where you can barely move. — Daddy

“The devil lives in each of us. He whispers his darkest desires and waits for the weakness of man,” Father Hawthorne whispers into your ear, smacking your bottom in quick succession. — Praise by Thy Name

“Awww did hat rack not like the balloons? Were they too big? Ooh... did Chibi get lost under them? Don’t worry I’m sure someone will rescue the chibi mafia boss~~” — Love, Dazai

Top 5 scenes from anywhere you would choose to have illustrated from anywhere

Chuuya on his throne in Devil.

The opening to Rock the Night.

Chuuya and Dazai at the end of Run to You.

The soft moments of Popcorn Kisses.

Edward with Dazai and Roy watching in Heathens.

Also, wouldn’t mind any part of Bound and Gagged or Chuuya’s Karaoke of “Can’t have This”, any of the presents Dazai gifts Chuuya in Love, Dazai

Fic-writing goals for next year:

I want to finish my WIPs and become better at editing.

#about my fics #fic roundup 2018 #wrapping up 2018 #lil ramblings

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asroarke · 6 years ago

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Hey Alex. Your fics completely cheer up whenever I'm in a depressive state. I've read them all so many times. They're incredible. Unfortunately, my boyfriend broke up with me a month ago I guess hes an ex now and I'm confused and broken and Ive been listening non stop to ed sheeran's song "Happier". I was wondering if you could write post break up bellarke fic based kinda on the song, but with a happy ending from bellamys pov? I need a pick me up and a little bit of hope in my life tbh..

I’m really sorry to hear about your break up! That’s rough. Also, side note, that song made me cry. I had never heard it before. So, the happy ending is kind of ambiguous in this fic, but I fully intended for you to assume that the last conversation goes well and they end up back together. I hope you like it! It ended up being more angsty than I had originally planned. [ao3]

He wasn’t planning on stopping by Octavia’s party, using thefact that he was working late as his excuse. But when Pike announced thatBellamy could clock out early, he knew that he had to at least swing by. IfOctavia found out that his schedule opened up and he didn’t stop by, he’d neverhear the end of it.

It wasn’t like Clarke ever stayed at parties long, anyway.He probably wouldn’t even see her. She likely left an hour ago, since she was probablytoo tired from a shift at the hospital or had one early tomorrow morning. So,he took a few deep breaths before heading over to his sister’s apartment.

The party was still raging on when he walked through the door,and Miller immediately put a beer in his hand. “How have you been?” he asked,and Bellamy just shrugged. Miller looked over at Jackson, and Bellamy didn’tmiss the concerned look they exchanged. Yeah, they were worried about him, buthe was fine.

“There you are!” Octavia shouted before he heard the soundof her loud feet rushing toward him. He turned to be ready for her hug, chucklingquietly at her excitement to see him. “Isn’t this a fun party? You’re so happyyou came, right?” she asked, her words slurring together, and he had to fightnot to roll his eyes. She was drunk.

“Yes,” he replied, patting her on the head as he surveyedthe room. No sign of Clarke, thank God. He wouldn’t know what he would say toher if he saw her again. It was inevitable that he would, so he probably shouldfigure something out. But he needed more time to get over the sting of losingher.

He plastered on a smile as Octavia dragged him through theapartment by his hand and introduced him to all her work friends he hadn’t metyet. She ditched him to go whine to Lincoln about something, and Bellamysettled in next to Murphy as he downed the last of his beer. He looked over hisshoulder into the kitchen, spotting those fake margarita beer drinks that Octaviahad recently gotten upset with and let out a sigh. “The good stuff is out onthe patio,” Murphy explained, and he let out a sigh of relief.

“Thank God,” he muttered before making his way out there.

He probably should have known that there would be one or twopartygoers who would be out there. It’s the only quiet place to be at anOctavia Blake party. Bellamy had ducked out here enough times to know that.

But nothing could have prepared him for finding Clarke andRoan out there together.

He freezes for a moment at the sight of Clarke curledup against him with her legs in his lap. It took him a moment to realize thatshe was asleep, and he probably would have laughed at the fact that ClarkeGriffin fell asleep at yet another party if it weren’t for the fact that shewas literally sleeping on Roan.

He clenched his jaw as he fished out a beer from the cooler.He shouldn’t actually be surprised. He and Clarke broke up. She was going tostart seeing other people. He couldn’t have pushed her away any harder, if hewas being honest with himself. But Bellamy had somehow put the prospect ofClarke moving on out of his thoughts, meaning he was blindsided by this.

“Oh hey, man,” Roan said, tearing his eyes away from hisphone to nod at Bellamy. Bellamy nodded back, grinding his teeth together as hedid. Without a word, he walked back into the apartment and took a seat at theempty kitchen table, one of the few spots in the room that gave him a decentview of what was happening on the patio. Maybe he just wanted to torturehimself, but he couldn’t seem to keep his eyes off the two of them as Roan’shand traced up and down Clarke’s back.

“Didn’t you start this whole thing?” Jasper asked as he saton the table, swinging his legs back and forth so that he occasionally hitBellamy.

“Yes,” he huffed, and Clarke started to stir outside. Sherubbed her eyes as she pushed herself up, and Roan put his phone down to saysomething that caused Clarke to erupt into laughter. His chest panged as he sawher bright smile. He couldn’t even remember the last time he saw her smile likethat.

“So, why are you acting like she broke up with you?” Jaspermuttered, and Bellamy took his eyes off Clarke for a moment to glare up at him.

“Jasper, I’m not in the mood,” he snapped. When his eyesreturned to the window, Roan and Clarke had stood up and were facing away fromhim. Both her hands were braced on the railing in front of her, but Roan wasstill rubbing her back.

The fact that it was Roan shouldn’t have surprised Bellamy.He had always had the suspicion that Roan was attracted to Clarke, and it wasn’tlike he could blame Clarke for becoming interested in him once she becamesingle. He was an attractive guy, one that her mother would definitely approveof. He’d probably fit more into Clarke’s world than Bellamy ever did.

Jasper was still mumbling something when Bellamy pushed awayfrom the table. He wasn’t going to sit there all night watching theex-girlfriend he was still in love with flirt with Roan, so he ducked into thekitchen, which was empty. He hopped up onto the counter and let out a breath.

He tried to distract his mind, but the image of themtogether kept popping up in his head again. Bellamy could see them together soclearly, now. Roan didn’t pick fights with Clarke like Bellamy did, no, he wasfar more relaxed and easygoing. He was also not the kind of guy to screw aroundwhen it came to talking about how he felt. Clarke must love that since shedoesn’t have to guess what Bellamy’s thinking anymore or deal with his freakouts when things got a little too serious. She found herself someone who wouldbe upfront with her, and it’s what she deserves.

He pressed his lips together as he heard the patio doorswing open. “Jasper, are you ready for more shots?” he heard Roan tease, andBellamy threw his head back. God, Roan was even more fun around Bellamy’sfriends. “Clarke?”

“Oh, God no,” Clarke giggled, and it was such a sweet, happysound… and why wouldn’t it be? Clarke seemed to be happy, probably happier thanshe had been with Bellamy. There was a quiet mumbling out there as Bellamyheard Jasper skip after Roan. “What?” he heard Clarke say, and he hit his headagainst the cabinet behind him.

He fucked up. God, he fucked up. He was falling too hard andfast for her and got scared. Everything with Clarke felt so natural and normal,and it scared him how easily he could get comfortable with her, especiallygiven how things went with Echo and Gina in the past.

All he could remember was how much he hurt before, and hisstupid, stupid self did what healways did: pushed her away before she could push him away. And now she was gone.He couldn’t blame anyone but himself for the way he picked that fight.

He was taking another swig of his drink when Clarke strodeinto the kitchen, freezing as soon as she saw him. Her brows furrowed as shegave him a once over, and his heart pounded as he waited for her to saysomething.

“Octavia said you had to work tonight,” she finally settledon, and he fought not to roll his eyes at the fact that the two of them couldonly seem to make small talk now.

“My shift ended early, so I stopped by,” he shrugged, andshe nodded along. Her brows were still furrowed, and he could tell that she hadsomething to say to him. But of course, his jealousy was still festering underthe surface and he said, “You seemed to have a good nap outside.”

Her eyes widened at him, and he immediately regretted it.She was free to do whatever the hell she wants, after all. He shouldn’t try tomake her feel bad for moving on. But of course, he always said the wrong thingat every given opportunity.

“It was a long day,” she settled on, and he nodded along, keepinghis eyes fixed on the almost empty beer in his hand. “Actually, I was just aboutto leave. I should go find your sister before I go,” she muttered beforeturning to leave, and Bellamy hit his head on the cabinet again, cursinghimself for pushing her away again.

He listened as Clarke gave her goodbyes to their friends. Montysaid something to make her laugh, and he found a smile tugging at his lips whenhe heard that beautiful sound. She talked with Harper, he thinks, for a minute…and the ease with which she speaks to everyone causes his chest to pang. Sheused to be able to talk to him that way.

Maybe he should find a way to be happy for her. After all,she seemed happier now with Roan. And Clarke deserved to be happy. He wantedher to be so happy.

When the front door shut, he let out a breath. He survivedseeing Clarke tonight, barely. The panging in his chest probably wouldn’t goaway any time soon, though he wasn’t sure if it ever left.

He was coming up with excuses to leave the party too whenRoan came into the kitchen. “What’s wrong with you?” Roan snorted.

“Nothing,” Bellamy lied.

“So, it has nothing to do with the fact that you saw me withyour ex?” he asked, raising his eyebrows as he filled a cup with ice.

“Clarke can date whoever she wants,” he replied.

“I’m not dating Clarke,” Roan corrected, and Bellamy hatedhow easy his own face gave his reaction away. Roan smirked at him, pleased thathe had finally broken Bellamy out of his fake indifference. “I don’t make ahabit of dating girls who are still in love with their exes.”

“Clarke isn’t—”

“She is,” he interrupted. “It’s annoying, honestly. Fulloffense intended, you were a dick to her in the end.”

“I know,” he huffed, throwing his head back. He didn’t needthis lecture from Roan when he had been giving it to himself all night. “It’show I know she isn’t still hung up on me.”

“Interesting,” Roan muttered as he walked back toward thedoor, “then, why is she still in the parking lot, crying in her car?” Bellamy’shead snapped up to look at Roan, whose eyebrows were raised at him as he lookedover his shoulder. “Don’t fuck it up this time,” he huffed before walking backout to the party. Bellamy jumped to his feet, abandoning his beer on thecountertop before striding toward the front door. He didn’t bother tellinganyone where he went. Everyone was too drunk to notice he was gone, anyway.

When he got down to the parking lot, he found Clarke’s carin the very back. He jogged toward her car, and as he got closer, he could seeher talking on the phone as she wiped a few tears from her cheek. He felt sickat the realization that he was the reason she was crying. He never wanted tohurt her. After all, he loved her… probably a little too much. He was justscared.

Clarke’s eyes widened when she spotted him, and she said goodbyeto whoever she had been talking to. He stood still as she pushed herself out ofthe car, her brows furrowing in confusion as she looked up at him again. “Whatare you—”

“I miss you,” he interrupted, and her eyes softened. “I’msorry. I know I don’t get to just… Fuck,” he mumbled. He hadn’t thought throughwhat he would say to her at all. He hadn’t been thinking when he rushed downafter her. All he heard was that she was upset because of him, and he couldn’t stayaway.

“I miss you too,” she said before he could stutter anythingelse out. Her blue eyes were staring back at him, still a bit red from crying.All he wanted to do was close the distance between them and pull her to hischest.

“Can we talk?” he asked, and she bit down on her lip. Herchest was rising and falling slowly as she took a few deep breaths.

It felt like hours had passed before she whispered, “Yeah.”

A flicker of hope scorched through him as the two of them satdown on the curb. He was going to tell her everything that he didn’t saybefore. He was going to make it right. And maybe, just maybe, she’d let him tryto make her happy again.

#asks #bellarke fanfiction #prompt fill #alex does prompts sometimes #modern au #exes to lovers #exes #past relationship #break ups #angst #pining #mutual pining #bellamy pov #the 100 fanfiction #asroarke fanfiction

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thing-you-do-with-that-thing · 7 years ago

Text

Save Himself

Characters: Dean Winchester, Sam Winchester, Y/N Singer, Castiel (mentioned), Mary Winchester (mentioned), Jack Kline (mentioned), Crowley (mentioned)

Pairing: Dean x Reader

Warnings: S13.03 spoilers.

Word Count: 2200ish

A/N: I did not have time to write this but seeing how I feel so many people are once again misunderstanding Dean I felt the need too.

It is also inspired by the Ed Sheeran song Save Myself.

Thanks to the sweet amazing @docharleythegeekqueen for betaing this one for me :D

***My fics are not to be saved nor posted on any other sites without my express written permission.***

You took a deep breath, hiding away in the kitchen. You hated watching the brothers fight but once in awhile that was how they dealt with things. Or actually this fight was because they dealt with things very differently. Dean needed to push through and he more often than not needed a break from everyone around him, especially from people telling him how he was behaving wrong in those moments.

You got that. You loved him, but that wasn’t the only reason. You were the same in a lot of ways. Where as Sam was rational and composed, trying to figure a way through everything. Using his brain to distract himself, you and Dean were both very emotional. When you had lost your dad, you had run away from everyone and everything. You hated yourself for that now, because Dean had lost him too. See there was were you differed from Dean. He never ever allowed himself to be selfish. He always stayed by the people he loved. He never once left you or Sam, no matter how badly he was hurting himself. Even the few times he had walked away he had allowed himself to get dragged back in before he was ready to face the people he loved again. Dean was selfless, but this time you wanted him to be selfish.

He wasn’t. He was still here. He was still doing things Sam’s way even if he didn’t agree. Yet his brother kept pushing him while you kept your distance. You weren’t sure you were doing the right thing either. Maybe you needed to push him. Let him know that you were here for him, but a small part of you knew that you didn’t have to do that. Even if you gave Dean his space and you had gone back to sleeping in your own room every night, you gave him the chance to stop you every night. You silently communicated that you were there for him whenever he had room for you again. Right now Dean was grieving the loss of Crowley. The loss of his mom he had just learned to forgive. The loss of his best friend, who had been a true constant in his life for year, who had become like a brother to him as much as Sam was.

You weren’t sure Dean knew what he needed from you or anyone right now. Right now he was drinking and keeping everyone at arm’s length. He needed space to mourn the loss of the people he loved, but more than anything he needed the courage to let himself love as completely as he always had again. Loving someone had come to mean heartache to Dean.

“I don’t get it,” Sam grumbled as he entered the kitchen causing you to break free from your thoughts and look up at the Winchester you had come to love like a brother. Your dad had seen them both as sons, but Dean had become so much more than a brother to you. He was your best friend. Your love. Both brothers were your family. Your only family now.

“Get what Sammy?” you sighed looking up at him as he grabbed a beer from the fridge sitting down in front of you.

“How you can sit by and let him treat Jack like this?” Sam asked quietly. “You know as well as I do that he is not evil.”

You glared at Sam for a moment, reminding yourself that he lost as much as you and Dean had even if he was choosing his words poorly in that moment.

“I don’t know that Sam,” you answered, making him look at you in surprise but you continued speaking before he could interrupt. “I don’t believe that he is, but knowing and believing is not the same thing. I believe that he has a choice just like everyone else has. He has a choice because of Dean. Dean never gave up on you, when it was easy to do so. When I almost did. Dean and my dad didn’t. Jack has a choice because all of us made it that way. Because we didn’t let the angels take our free will from us.”

Sam’s expression softened and you knew he thought you were making the same point he had tried to make during his fight with Dean not long ago. “I know that Y/N. He never gave up on me so why is he giving up on Jack so easily? Why are you letting him?”

You closed your eyes composing yourself. You didn’t want to fight with either of the brothers, “I am not letting him do anything,” you spoke softly as you opened your eyes back up to look at Sam. “Free will is not just for some of us. It is for all of is. It is for Dean too. Right now Dean needs a minute to breath. He had been looking out for people his entire life. He has been a brother and a Dad to you from the moment he carried you out of that burning house.”

You could see the guilt on Sam’s face. You weren’t trying to make him feel guilty but you needed him to understand. “Dean has given everything he has for the people he loves all his life. He will keep doing that. He still loves you and me as much as he did before we lost Crowley, Mary and Cas. He hasn’t changed Sam. He is grieving and you need to let him do that in his own way.”

You could sense the frustration in Sam so you got of your chair, moving to sit beside him taking his hand in both of yours, “I am not blaming you for anything Sam. I know the two of you don’t handle loss in the same way and you don’t need too. You just need to let him go through all of this in his own way and in his own time.”

“It’s not Jack’s fault Y/N,” Sam started to rationalize with you and you gave his hand a squeeze stopping him before he could go any further.

“I know that it isn’t. Dean knows that it isn’t and he is not blaming him. You don’t know how much it hurt him when it was you Sam. When it was you lying to him. When he was fighting to make you see what you did was wrong,” you saw the flash of guilt in Sam’s eyes again and you reached out gently running your fingers through his hair. “I am not blaming you Sammy. You are my brother and I love you. Dean loves you and he would do everything all over again in heartbeat. For you. But right now he is broken. He lost so much and I know we have too. We just can’t look to Dean to pick up the pieces this time. Not yet at least. We need to give him a moment, however long it takes to stand back up himself. Right now Dean can’t help us and he can’t help Jack because Dean needs to help Dean.”

Sam stared at you and you could see the tears form in his eyes, and you smiled softly at him, “He is still here Sam and he’ll be Dean again soon. Just don’t force him to let someone else in right now. Dean doesn’t hate Jack. He just can’t allow himself to love him yet. He won’t be able to do what he believes he might have too if he does. He can’t rescue a stranger like he always does right now. Not when it is a stranger he sees you in as much as you see yourself. If he does that he knows there will be no one to stop him if he needs to be stopped. He won’t be able to do what he couldn’t when it was you or even Cas. What we couldn’t do when it was Dean. No matter what people have tried to make him believe over and over again, Dean is not a killer. He does what he has too, but none if it is easy on him. He doesn’t make any choice lightly. He carries every decision he ever made with him. You know that. You need to cut him some slack Sam, but more than that you need to face up to what you are doing.”

Sam’s eyes widened and you could sense the shift in him. He wasn’t just sad anymore he was getting angry with you.

“What I am doing? What exactly is it that I am doing Y/N?” Sam glared at you.

“Dean was right Sam. I know that you care about him. I know that you see yourself in him. I know that you wanna help him. All of that is not a lie, but you are also using him. Jack is afraid of his powers but you want him to control them to get your mom back. If you were really trying to help you would help him get rid of them,” you answered in a soft tone and you saw the realization dawn on Sam’s face.

Sam was a good man. One of the best men you knew, but even good men do things for selfish reasons sometimes. You gave him a small smile before getting off your seat. You were tired. Today, alone. Worrying about Dean away on a hunt on his own even if it was with Jody had taken it’s toll on you.

You kissed the top of Sam’s head hugging him, “Just be honest with him Sam. Maybe helping you is what Jack wants too. It just needs to be his choice and not yours.”

Sam looked up at you and you noticed the shift in him. What you had said had got him thinking, “I don’t even know if we can chain his powers Y/N.”

“No,” you tugged his hair, playfully just like you always had when you were kids. “But you also won’t know if you never look for a way. You don’t have to do it, but if you can Jack deserves to know.”

“Y/N,” Sam called after you and you stopped in the doorway to the kitchen, looking back at him. “Sometimes Dean doesn’t know what he needs. Go see him tonight?” You were just about to object when Sam smiled, “Free will I know. But he won’t find comfort in a bottle. He will in you, Y/N/N. He needs you. Even if I don’t always understand him as well as I think I do I do know that.”

It was now your turn to have tears pool in your eyes and you gave Sam a small nod, before leaving the kitchen. You had every intent of going to your own room, as you headed down the hall. Right up until the moment you reached Dean’s door. You knocked softly a few times before pushing it open. The room was dark, but your eyes adjusted fast allowing you to see Dean’s form lying on his… your bed with his back turned to the door.

You didn’t know if he had heard you or not, but if he had he were moving. You took a deep breath hearing Sam’s words play in your head before making your decision.

He won’t find comfort in a bottle. He will in you, Y/N/N.

You quickly undressed down to you tank top and your panties, crawling into bed behind him. You didn’t touch him, but you knew he was aware of your presence by now. Dean was a hunter and if he had been asleep when you entered his room he wasn’t anymore.

“Dean I’m here if you need me,” you whispered, still not sure you were making the right choice. “I love you. You didn’t lose me. If you need space right now that’s okay, but I am still gonna be here when…”

You stopped talking with a gasp, when Dean turned around pulling you tightly against his chest, burying his face in your hair.

“I don’t need space from you, Y/N/N. I need you,” he whispered and you felt the silent tears from his eyes against your hair, just in time with yours wetting his shirt.

“You got me,” you whispered back, wrapping yourself around him like a vine, “Always.”

Dean had been there for everyone else his entire life, but this time he needed someone to be there for him. You were glad he had allowed it to be you. Whatever he needed you would do. You would keep him safe and remind him he was loved. You would help him grieve in his own way and when he found his strength again you would face whatever the world threw at you next, standing right by his side. Dean could get through this himself, but you were there to remind him he didn’t have too. Dean wasn’t alone. As long as you and Sam were breathing, he never would be. Even if you didn’t all, always see the world in the same way, you were always gonna be there for each other.

Dean Tag Team

@mysupernaturalfics @blacktithe7 @percywinchester27 @torn-and-frayed @jpadjackles @flufy07 @crushing83 @deanxfuckingadorablexwinchester @d-s-winchester @feelmyroarrrr @docharleythegeekqueen @starswirlblitz @quiddy-writes @lenaabs @petrovadixon @blanketmadeofstar @arryn-nyxx @winchesters-flannels @winchester-writes @tas898 @emilywritesaboutdean @salvachester @emoryhemsworth @tennesseewhiskey-and-pie @mogaruke @supernatural-jackles @jayankles @jensenackesl @im-most-definitely-fangirling @ivvitm1109 @kathaswings @sinbadcat83 @winchestdiaries @thebunkerismyhome @iwriteaboutdean @winchesterprincessbride @captainradicalpassion @mrswhozeewhatsis @zanthiasplace @redunicorn10 @haleyhay96 @covarrubiasalex @becauseimawinchester @deansbaekaz2y5 @star-spangled-man-with-a-plan @spn-fan-girl-173 @winchesterswoonathon @sandlee44 @roxy-davenport @bringmesomepie56 @impala-dreamer @jensen-jarpad @deansleather @phoenixia67 @chickenmcsade @atc74 @chaos-and-the-calm67 @aiaranradnay @amazinntay @katarinfrost @castiels-broken-fool @bemyqueenofdarkness @moonstar86 @ashleydivine @saxxxology-main @roxyspearing @gemini75eeyore @devilgirlsarah @plaid-lover-bay25 @iamabeautifulperson18 @blushingdean @waywardmoeyy @like-a-bag-of-potatoes @deansgirl215 @xagateophobiax @wellcrazythis @our-love-world @spn-dean-and-sam-winchester @brooke-supernatural16 @mysteriously-lost

#dean x reader #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester #spn fanfiction #spn imagine #dean imagine #dean angst #dean winchester angst #dean winchester imagine

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notgonnarememberthis · 8 years ago

Text

The Lying Angel - Chapter 2

The reception of this fic was so wonderful! Thank you guys so much! I plan on writing this fic to completion but I have no prediction of how long it will be just yet. Just stick with me and we’ll see where this road takes us! Enjoy!

The cab ride was eerily silent besides the incessant tapping of the sole of Sherlock’s shoe as he bounced his leg. It was like that the entire way to the airport where apparently Dylan had a plane waiting. Sherlock made quite a show of taking an opposite end of the plane as the two women made their way into the cockpit. Joan sits herself in the copilot’s seat securing all of the necessary equipment on herself.

“Still remember how to fly?” Dylan teases lightly in an attempt to ease the tension in the air.

“Like riding a bike.” Joan quips back automatically. They fall into a steady rhythm setting up for flight. It was like they’d never separated…

“So… Who’s the guy?” Dylan’s flipped on autopilot spinning around to face her. Not good.

“He’s my co-worker.” A pointed look brings Joan to roll her eyes. “I met him a few months after I left. I became a sober companion and his father called me. Now we work as private investigators for the NYPD.”

“You’ve never liked local police.”

“Marcus and Gregson are different. They’re good.”

“And who are they?” Joan glares at the woman.

“Oh come on! Far as I know, you’re the only angel not in a relationship. I gotta maintain some of my sanity in this whole mess.” Dylan frowns.

“You’re in a steady relationship with someone who’s not a bad guy?” She smirks.

“Turns out all I needed was a good girl to balance it out.” Her head snaps around quickly staring at the redhead next to her.

“How long?”

“About 2 years now. I met her while on a case in Hawaii. She moved to Washington when she got put on witness protection. Guess we had something in common.” The smile on her lips is brighter than Joan’s seen in awhile. She reaches over squeezing her friend’s hand.

“I’m happy for you Dylan. I hope I get to meet her.”

“I hope so.” She grins. “Cause now that I’ve found you, I’m not letting you out of my sight again.”

“I count on it.” Joan laughs. Dylan sighs shifting in her seat uncomfortably. She knows what’s coming. “No.”

“Alex… We need to talk about what happened.”

“No we don’t.” She insists.

“It’s not your fault.”

“We’re not talking about this.” Joan pushes.

“Why are you pushing me away again? It’s been five years.”

“I’m not talking about this now.” She sighs pressing the heels of her palms into her eyes trying to will the image away.

“Does he know?”

“Barely.” Joan sighs. “He thinks I was a surgeon. I already had my medical license so it wasn’t hard to keep up with the lie.”

“I mean your dad did for how long?”

“Seven years.” She smiles slightly at the memory. “Sherlock couldn’t know what I did. I didn’t want him ever to. That’s why I used an alias for my name. I created Alex so the people around me wouldn’t get hurt because of me. Now look where we are.”

“You should really talk to him.”

“And say what?” She scoffs. “I’m sorry I’ve known you for five years and you had no idea I was an American spy for a guy whose face I’ve never seen. I’m sorry I let you believe you were teaching me how to defend myself when I know seven different ways how to kill a man with nothing more than a paperclip and a piece of string.”

“Hey you have to admit that was a fun op.” Dylan laughs for a second. “I see what you mean though.”

“Sherlock isn’t the same as anyone else. His ex kind of turned out to be a crazy murderer he was hunting for nearly a year. He discovered this years after she faked her own murder.”

“Whoa.”

“I’ve ruined it all.”

“Joan… go talk to him. It’ll be rough but he cares about you. Otherwise he wouldn’t have been that hurt by the truth.”

“Don’t call me Joan. That’s weird.” Dylan laughs shortly. “You can still call me Alex.”

“Okay Alex. Go.”

“Thanks…”

“Anytime.”

She finds Sherlock sitting at the back of the plan computer opened in front of him, no doubt with hundreds of articles opened being read in less than five seconds each. He hears her approaching, she can see it in the twitch of his muscles. Not sure whether to remain still or to run. Joan takes the place across from him. His eyes flicker up to her with doubt filling them.

“What do you want to know?” This catches his attention. He closes his laptop meeting her eyes now.

“Why?”

“I didn’t want anyone to be hurt. The only time I was Alex was around Dylan, Nat, and a few choice boyfriends I met on assignments.”

“I could’ve handled it.”

“I couldn’t.” He frowns in confusion now. “I did kill that man. He didn’t die on my table though. Nat and Dylan were chasing down a man that had planned an attack on a senator. I was guarding him… I spotted the man and he was about to take the shot. So I took mine… I missed.”

“Watson…”

“I hit a civilian. He was just walking to work, that’s it. Completely innocent and I killed him.”

“Joan.”

“You have every right to be angry Sherlock. I hope you’ll forgive me one day.” She whispers just barely loud enough for him to hear.

He shifts in his seat uncomfortably, not fond of emotional moments. “I am angry. I thought you trusted me as I do you.” She could feel his eyes on her, analyzing her. It’s painful but she deserves it. “I wish you’d have told me sooner rather than finding out this way.” He grabs her hand snatching her eyes to his once more when she could no longer take the disappointment filling them. “I only wish for you to be honest with me Watson. We are partners are we not?”

“We are.”

“Very well. Now I would like to hear about the time some mysterious women saved Mount Rushmore.” He says with a raised eyebrow. A tiny smile etches at her lips. It wasn’t forgiveness. Not yet. Rather a desire to learn more. To learn the truth.

“As you wish.”

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

They landed in a field somewhere in Georgia. The landing strip was relatively abandoned amongst the expanse of plants around them aside from a lonesome building at the edge of it.

“I’ve got a car waiting for us inside the garage. Follow me.” Dylan explains leading the way. The silence was more comfortable than before but still unbearing. Dread mixed with a little bit of fear filled both of the women as they inched closer to the city.

Joan spies the blonde as they pull up on the street. She’s standing outside alone with her arms wrapped around herself in some way of self protection. She has to keep herself from launching out of the car as soon as they slow down. Once she’s positive they’ve come to a stop she’s running out to comfort her friend.

“Nat.” She whispers wrapping her in a fierce hug.

“Alex.” The other woman mumbles back burying her face in her shoulder. As she pulls back she can see Natalie’s eyes are red rimmed from tears, her nose bright against the sun as well.

“Where’s Pete?”

“Inside talking to his parents. I insisted that he go and stay with them until we’re sure it’s safe.” She nods understanding. Suddenly the woman’s eyes grow hard and her stance defensive as her gaze falls behind her. “Who’s that?”

She spins around and sure enough Sherlock is already combing through the yard looking for evidence of footprints or a struggle. Leave it to him not even to introduce himself. “That’s Sherlock Holmes. He’s my partner.”

“Partner?” Natalie’s eyes go wide before falling to her hands.

“Not like that.”

“Mhm.” Dylan hums from behind her earning an elbow to the gut. “Ow. Play nice.”

“Wait.” Natalie freezes. “The Sherlock Holmes? Like best private investigator in New York Sherlock Holmes?”

“And Joan Watson.” Dylan teases bumping hips with her.

“You’re Joan Watson!?” Natalie laughs momentarily forgetting the situation at hand. “I should have figured one of the two best detectives in New York was my little miss overachiever.”

“Stop.” Joan mutters as her cheeks flush red. “We’re here to help however we can.”

“Right.” The joy disappears from her face as she leads them all inside. Pete is pacing in the kitchen on the phone and Natalie goes ahead and leads them up the stairs. The house looks relatively untouched. No pictures out of line, no empty spots where an item once was.

The creek of the door snaps Joan out of her thoughts as Natalie leads them to Charlie’s room. Joan takes her hand for support as she guides them inside. Surely enough the struggle is the most evident inside. The curtains are torn down in front of the open window, toys scattered across the floor. The only comfort she could find was that there was no evidence of blood anywhere.

The message written into the walls is even more ominous in person than the photos Dylan had shown her. As if instinctively, Sherlock passes her a pair of gloves and plastic bags. She’s not sure how much evidence they’ll find but it won’t hurt to try.

“Mrs…”

“Cook.”

“Ah yes. Mrs. Cook, did Charlie express worries about previous encounters with anyone? Someone may have come up to him in the street? Perhaps at school?”

“No. Nothing.”

“Did Charlie act strange before his disappearance?”

“No.” Their voices fade as Joan steps into the hall to investigate herself. As she’s making her way through she spies a set of photos on a desk at the far side of the room. Natalie has her arms wrapped around Charlie as they saddle a horse together. In another, Dylan has her arm wrapped around the back of a tanned woman with a wavy hair. Come and see us soon. -Dylan and Nomi, was inscribed into the frame. Next, a photo of herself from before they left sipping a cup of tea by the fireplace. A chill runs down her spine at the last photo, however. It was from they went to the beach with Bosley all those years ago. The three of them had their arms wrapped around each other with the sea in the background. However, their faces had been x-ed out. On the back of the frame was a message carved with a knife.

All the angels will fall and join us mortals in their descent.

#joanlock #joan x sherlock #joan watson #Sherlock Holmes #dylan saunders #alex munday #natalie cook #charlies angels au #kinda #slow burn #elementary #elementary cbs #elementary au

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