#unnatural use of the oxford coma

[sleepy-hawks]

Thinking of Kakuzu when he was tasked with assassinating Hashirama and failed spectacularly.

Hashirama being himself, grinning at this very serious guy offering to give him another go once he gets better at fighting. Kakuzu outraged and going at him mindless to be put back on his ass immediately.

So Kakuzu takes him up on that offer and the next time they come to blows it’s over as soon as the first time. And each time Hashirama gives him pointers on how to improve because he can see the potential and what a waste it would be to not hone it, shape it and free it into the world of shinobi.

Their meetings become more training exercises than assassination attempts but not in the way Hashirama and Madara meet out in the battlefield, holding back and never reaching an accord. Harsh words of dead brothers and never ending angst.

No, these two could feel the thrill between their sparring, the heated dancing of their chakra when jutsus were spat out. It was intoxicating and liberating despite the nature of their meetings.

Like his younger brother, Tobirama, Kakuzu had a knack for experimenting and developing new techniques. And gods above was it a sight to behold, the day Kakuzu had revealed his newest technique and the explanation of the second heart his body now possessed.

Hashirama wanted to poses this warrior. He had realized then.

Have him on the playing board to fight for him and only for him.

[greekowl87]

Fic: Brownies

For the @txf-prompt-box P.S. Tagging @today-in-fic too.

Challenge: This sentence must be in your fic:  “What are you holding behind your back?”

bonus: It’s not Mulder or Scully saying it.

double bonus: The thing behind the back is… trouble!

This fic has no restriction concerning the pairing. It doesn’t have to be an AU either.

Scully was smaller than she originally appeared. Beneath the suits and the FBI badge, he had no idea how the cancer had eaten away at her. But that still did not dampen her spirits or fire. Or her temper. When Mulder had shown up earlier that evening, she immediately protested. She protested further when he held what he brought with him.

"Where the hell did you get that, Mulder," she groaned, wrapping her arms around herself. She was cold and tonight was one the few nights that she felt that she still could get some sleep. She was tired. "And why do you have a box of brownie mix?"

"Well hello to you too, Scully." He was grinning like a fool.

"Mulder."

"I know a guy who knows a guy in the DEA and well..." He shrugged innocently. "I was owed a big favor I just collected for it. Scully, this is the good stuff. Only the best for you."

"We're federal agents, Mulder. We can't go around smoking...that." She waved at the small plastic bag with the green leaves held discretely in his hands. "Seriously."

"Who said anything about smoking anything?" he said. "I quit years ago and I am not letting you touch that. That's what the brownie mix is for."

"Have you ever made those..." She could not bring herself to say it. "Brownies with the devil's lettuce?"

"Devil's lettuce? Really, Scully? Can I come in, Scully?" Mulder was still smiling. "I promise you don't even have to lift a finger and I'll even clean up after myself."

"Only so I can yell at you," she relented, stepping aside. He strolled in right past her and made a beeline for the kitchen as she closed her eyes, let out a weary sigh, and shut the door behind her. "I can't convince you otherwise, can I?"

"Nope, Scully. I'm making you pot brownies."

Scully heaved a sigh and watched him already taking out mixing bowls and eggs. Maybe she could blame the cancer on this; she was just too tired to argue with him. Or maybe it was his smile or just the small gesture. "Well, I'll be watching TV. Don't burn down my apartment."

"Oh, I won't," he called. He had found her 'Kiss the Chef' apron and was already wearing it. "I'm a pro at this."

. . . .

Pro indeed. Scully kept letting her gaze wander from the TV to watch Mulder wearing her 'Kiss the Chef' apron that was incredibly short on him. He had just spooning the batch into a baking pan and slid it into the oven. "We can put icing on it as well if you want," he said, double checking the timer, and then taking off the apron. He set it on her kitchen table and gave a weak smile. "I've actually been doing a little research. Edibles are supposed to be better for pain management and stay in your system longer and the come down isn't as bad."

"Where, pray tell did you learn that?"

He shrugged and gave a guilty smile. "Sophmore year at Oxford. Bad car accident. My roommate got me hooked and it did the world better. Besides, Scully, you've always known I've been a rebel at heart."

"What happens if they test us?"

"You have an excuse if they did. And that is a big if. And they know me; I'm Spooky Mulder, remember?" he teased lightly. "Don't worry about it. It's Saturday afternoon. We have off tomorrow and I conveniently have a dentist appointment that I need you to drive me to Monday morning so we aren't due in until noon?"

"Does this theoretical dentist appointment involve a root canal?"

"Of course. I never brushed my teeth as a kid."

She chuckled and shook her head. "Despite being a pain in the ass, Mulder, I'm really glad you're here this afternoon. About to get high. What on Earth gave you the idea even?"

His weak smile faded. "I'm tired of seeing you in pain, even though you hide it. I wanted to do something to help. All I could think is to bake you pot brownies and get high with you on a Saturday night. That way you won't feel as guilty, because you are St. Scully after all."

She gave a warm smile and held out her hand. Mulder came quietly up next to her on the couch and took her outstretched hand. She squeezed it warmly. "Thank you, Mulder."

He gave a quick smile again and nodded towards her movies. "We got 30 minutes, tops, before they're done. What do you say we pick a movie and watch it together while we eat?"

"Nothing by Cheech and Chong."

"You actually own that?"

"No." She bit her lip and nodded. "Robin Hood: Men in Tights. I love Mel Brooks."

Mulder bowed his head and nodded. "My wish is the queen's command."

"Shut up, Mulder. Oh, and well you're over there, grab the blanket from my bedroom. The blue one. I might as well be comfortable. Oh, and unplug the phone. I'm not letting myself or you," she added as an afterthought, "do anything stupid."

"I got pot from the DEA, Scully. Not exactly the smartest thing I have done."

"Well, if it makes you feel better, it isn't in the top ten. Hurry up and get the blanket. I want to get comfortable if you are offering to get me high for th weekend."

"What are partners for?"

"A lot apparently," she mumbled. But she just gave him a small smile.

. . . .

"This..." she sighed, pausing on her words, savoring them (or was it the brownie?), "this is good, Mulder. More than good. Heavenly."

"If it has St. Scully's blessing," he sighed equally, pulling her close, "then I am a miracle worker."

Both had devoured two brownies and the movie was forgotten in favor of an Audrey Hepburn movie marathon that lay forgotten in the background. Scully had wormed her way against Mulder, who was already lounging on her couch with his feet propped up on the coffee table, had her halfway across his chest, the blanket covering both of them. She snuggled against his soft tee shirt. "Only because of the brownies," she mumbled sleepily.

"Only because of the brownies."

She could hear the smile in his voice. But she had no pain and she was safe (Mulder always had the effect). She didn't know why. Blame the brownies. "How come we never snuggle, Mulder?"

Her question came out in a quiet breath but he caught it, tensing slightly. "Brownies?" he questioned softly. He grabbed a brownie off the plate in front of them and broke off a piece and held it out in front of her tantalizingly. "Scully?"

"No. All me." Scully grabbed the piece of the brownie and shoved it in her mouth. She sighed contently. "I like snuggling with Mulder."

"So I am a thing to you, is that it? Or is that a statement?"

"A noun, verb, adjective. What does it matter? It's all very Mulder-y." She heard him chuckle and squeeze her in a brief affirmation. "It's partly because of the brownies but..."

A quick knock tore them from each other. Mulder looked at her alarmed, wearing his panic face, as he quickly glanced at the brownies in his offending hand.

"Dana? I'm coming in! I hope I'm not bothering you but I was worried when I couldn't get ahold of you."

"I'll be right there, mom!"

Mulder quickly put his hand behind his back and sat up straighter on the couch as Scully abandoned the blanket and dashed across the apartment to the door faster than her mind and body wanted to. Mrs. Scully forced the door open slightly and barged past Scully without preamble, smiling as she did. "Oh, Fox! I did not know you were here!"

"Hi, Mrs. Scully." Mulder tried to think of the face he gave the Oxford police that one time he got high at university. "Just...you know..." He glanced at the television. "Audrey Hepburn."

Scully looked at Mulder horrifyingly. What the fuck, she mouthed. He shrugged slightly but never lost his composure. She forced a smile when her mother spun and looked at her youngest daughter. "How sweet," Mrs. Scully smiled at her. She turned and spied the brownies on the table. "Did Fox bake this, honey?"

"Um, yes." Scully's voice sounded unnaturally higher than normal.

"Well, my attempt." Mulder shook his head. "They're actually terrible. Like terrible give-you-food-poisoning-terrible."

Maggie nodded at him pointedly. "What are you holding behind your back?"

He showed the brownie reluctantly, doing his best not to flinch under Scully's scalding gaze. "Oh you know," he nodded. "Brownies."

Maggie smiled slightly and grabbed one off of the plate, wrapping it in a stray napkin. "Don't mind if I do," she smiled at her daughter. "They look good. Don't be so harsh on yourself, Fox."

"Mom, really...they're really, really...rich," Scully offered feebly. "You wouldn't like them."

"Nonsense, Dana. That is what milk is for, honey. I just wanted to make sure everything was okay." Mrs. Scully stuffed the offending brownie into her purse. "I'll see you tomorrow then?"

"Yep," Scully nodded, forcing a smile. "Tomorrow."

"And bring Fox."

"Yep," she nodded again, eager to get her mother to leave, "I'll bring Mulder. Church and brunch."

"Wonderful! I've been talking to all the other ladies...they can't wait to meet your partner. They're already wondering when he'll put a ring on your finger!"

"Mother!"

Mulder was up at this time, subtly guiding Mrs. Scully out the door. "I'll be there tomorrow, Mrs. Scully. Don't you worry. Just you know, make sure you enjoy that brownie right before bed, safely at home. We don't need you in a chocolate-coma, now do we?"

"Mulder!"

"See, even Scully is worried. Good night, Mrs. Scully!" Mulder forced her mother out the door before quickly locked the deadbolt and the chain lock. He offered a weak smile to her. "Sorry."

"We're getting my mother high," she whispered. She was growing more panicked. "Mulder, we just gave my mother a pot brownie."

"Maybe she won't eat it."

"Mulder, she will. We just got my mother high. Trouble."

"C'mere," he sighed, opening his arm gently. She huffed uncharacteristically and shuffled towards him. He kissed her hair. "It won't be that bad."

"You're spending the night," she huffed again, eager for the distraction. "I'm not letting you drive home. And dealing with church and the church ladies tomorrow. This is your fault anyway. Getting my mother high."

"Deal. What do we tell her if she wants more?"

"It was a one time deal." She grabbed his hand pulled him toward the door as he waved the offending brownie in his hand enticingly. She grabbed it and tossed it back on the plate. "Snuggling," she grunted, pulling him towards her bedroom.

"Brownies?" he questioned.

"Just Scully," she replied, pulling him along and shutting the door behind her.