#watch this space I’ll be getting barreled. hitting the turns. charging as if I meant to be there…yup!!🏄🏽‍♀️

[maiteo]

have you ever been barreled?

oooh beloved I am not that experienced when it comes to surfing😭 I’m still celebrating just being able to ride the lil waves and keep my balance on a board (shoutout to ballet)

I haven’t mastered tricks or anything like that yet….but I just know when I finally get barreled, I can die happy😌🫶🏽

[hargrove-mayfields]

A Password And A Promise

💕 Happy Valentine's Day!!! You guys are all my Valentines, thank you, thank you, thank you so much for all the positive reception! 💕

It’s day five of the week of love and today’s prompt that I chose was Snuggling for Warmth!! Read here or on ao3 at ej_writer !

Word Count: 3,649

Rating: T

First winter in the Midwest, and Billy’s been out in the snow for hours on end.

He’d like to say that he has no idea why he’s doing this, but he does. Chief Hopper asked him to.

As if his record wasn’t already bad enough, with the fights and the vandalism and all the other bad things he’d done since his arrival in Hawkins, he just had to go and get himself a DUI charge.

He’d been speeding off to some middle schoolers house, schnockered after a party to pick his sister up when he got pulled over. He’d begged the chief to let him off easy, promised he’d never pick up another bottle if it meant that the DUI didn’t make it on file.

And the chief, he understood that. He’d been the one to ask Billy a few questions when he was admitted to the hospital in mid-November and a nurse, recognizing the signs of abuse, asked him to come check it out. Despite Billy’s best efforts, the Hopper’d wormed it out of him that his father had been the one to land him there.

So when he made his plea, it didn’t take much convincing to get him to help him out.

Still, he couldn’t justifiably let Billy walk away unpunished for driving drunk, especially being that, with the new legislation Indiana was rolling out, he was now way under the age limit. To compromise, he opted to make him do community service instead.

Had Billy known how that would turn out for him, he might’ve rather just taken the beating for the DUI than doing three hours of shoveling sidewalks. A kick to the ribs or a punch to the jaw probably would’ve hurt less than the ache in his bones, feeling more and more like they were made out of heavy lead, or the sting of the cold air on his fingers and on his face.

For as many years as he had lived in California, he’d never seen snow stick to the ground for more than a few minutes, if at all, and he’d definitely never had to wear more than a jacket to protect himself from cold weather.

Now, having underestimated just how cold snow could actually get, he was freezing his ass off. He didn’t even have a stupid pair of gloves or anything, mouthing but a layer of thin denim to protect him from the record low temperatures.

Just because the universe hated him, the beating down snow wouldn’t slow down either. Not only were his clothes getting soaked completely through, his jacket a sopping mess and his boots more like rain barrels than shoes, but basically every time he cleared a sidewalk off, it'd be covered again before he reached the end.

Under all that snow, it was icy as all hell too, getting more so by the minute. Biker boots weren’t designed to walk on ice, and apparently nobody around these parts was decent enough to even sprinkle out a little ice melt before a storm, so more than a few times, he’d hit an icy patch and wipe the hell out. Thanks to a combination of the sun going down so early and the bitter freezing temperatures, there was nobody around to watch his feet go out from under him, but it still hurt like a son of a bitch.

He was worn down the bone by the time he finally reached Loch Nora, the first place where he could catch a damn break. Everyone up in that little neighborhood was rich enough to pay their lawn boys to scrape and salt the sidewalks for them, and didn't need some scraggly teenager avoiding a criminal record to do it for them.

Without doing any work it got even colder, and he was pretty sure he was going to get hypothermia and keel over in some hoity-toity’s lawn. His hair was frozen, his lungs burned from the cold air leaving him unable to catch his breath, and his teeth were chattering. He thought that shit only happened in the cartoons.

Billy's starting to realize that when Hopper had told him five hours, he probably hadn’t meant all at once. But nobody told him that the weather could be like this, he thought he would just be able to get it all out of the way now, when he could be certain there even was snow to shovel and no Boy Scouts giving him a run for his money.

Too bad he’d probably freeze to death before he finished.

But before that can happen, he’s intercepted by the double doors at 8253 swinging open, nearly jumping out of his skin when the wind catches it and hits it off the side of the house.

Were it literally anybody else shouting to him from their stoop, he’d have just kept walking. But the boy who lived in the mansion at 8253 was none other than Steve Harrington, who called out to him over the wind, “Billy? What the shit are you doin’ out here, man?”

Steve Harrington, who had apologized first for Billy kicking his ass, and started hanging out with him before the scars even healed. He apparently had the superpower to make friends with absolutely anybody, even difficult bullies who made every effort to keep him from doing exactly that.

Don’t get him wrong, being buddy-buddy with Steve Harrington was definitely something he was interested in, but he wasn’t a fan of the way he pretended absolutely nothing was wrong after they fought. He’d concussed him, had to be drugged before he’d stop beating him, and Steve still was the first to reach out.

There had to be some sort of a catch to that kindness, and Billy just wasn’t looking to get too attached.

And yet, Billy stopped for him, when he called out, so maybe it wouldn’t have been entirely truthful to say that he was particularly bothered by Steve’s persistence. If you pressed him hard enough, he might even admit he thought it was kind of endearing.

“Just doing my civic duty, Harrington.” He could kick himself for how weak his voice sounds.

“It’s below zero, Billy. Why don’t you come in?” There’s something like concern in the way he says it, and it makes Billy want to walk away.

“I’ll pass.”

But Steve’s not having it, puts a hand on his hip. “I think the fuck you won’t. Get in here man.”

Billy might be stubborn, but Steve won’t take no for an answer. He knows when he’s lost, so he shoves the handle of the snow shovel towards Steve, who rolls his eyes and takes it, leaves it lean beside the door, and shoulders past Steve into his mansion, instantly feeling like he was melting in the dry warmth that radiated from the house.

Steve shuts the door behind them and hangs his scarf on a coat rack by the door. His boots and coat follow, and he makes Billy do the same. They both grimace at the puddle of water that spills out of Billy’s boot when it tips over.

“Jesus dude, how long were you out there?”

Billy shrugs, winces at the movement of sore shoulders, and lies. He wouldn’t want Steve to make a fuss if he knew. “Dunno. Lost track of the time.”

“Wait here, I’ll be right back.” Steve plods up carpeted steps, leaving Billy to stand awkwardly on the door mat so he doesn’t drip all over the hardwood floors.

He takes the moment alone to take in his surroundings.

The Harringtons were more than well off, everybody knew that, but being inside of their house, their goddamned mansion, is nothing like Billy expected.

Just from where he’s standing at the door, he can see a living room furnished with big plush couches and a TV in an entertainment center the size of the whole wall. Across from it is the entrance to a dining room with more chairs than a family of three needed at a long table, chandelier overhead.

There were potted plants in every corner and paintings and family photos hung on every wall. Knick-knacks, probably all ordered from some magazine like his own step mom would day dream about shopping from, adorned every last unaided surface, from the huge console record player to every side table and wall shelf.

The longer he looked though, the more Billy noticed all the little things, like cobwebs in the high corners, and dust built up on the wax fruit, the 1979 time stamp on the most recent of their family photos. It wasn’t hard to piece together that this place was just a set.

Suddenly the obnoxiously high ceilings and the fancy decorations felt a lot less like grandeur, and a lot more suffocating. Billy felt bad knowing Steve was here all the time by himself, the sole pretender playing this part of the perfect family.

But then he’s brought out of his reflections by Steve hurrying back down the steps with a neatly folded stack of clothes in hand that he’s shoving towards him.

“The hell are these?”

“A change of clothes.” Billy just looks at him, scrunching his nose at the suggestion, and still won’t take them. “Dude you’re soaked to the bone, you’ll never get warm if you don’t get outta those clothes.”

Billy smirks, raises an eyebrow, but he takes the clothes.

Steve, realizing he could’ve worded that a little better blushes, just the faintest dusting of pink on his pale cheeks. “Shut up man. Bathroom’s down the hall to the right.”

Even the Harrington’s bathroom is the pinnacle of wealthy interior design. Not only is the room as big as Billy’s entire living room, but it’s just as overly designed as the rest of the house.

The walls are black and gold, marbled in the most gaudy flaunting of money Billy’d ever seen. A huge clawfoot tub was settled in the counter, framed by beige tile counters. There was a mirror surrounded by lights right above the sink that spanned almost the entire wall. It felt like something straight out of a magazine. Hell, it probably was.

Even the bathroom in this place makes Billy feel out of place, the luxury of it all so much unlike what he was used to.

It’s warm in the bathroom, the shut door and the smaller space collecting keeping the heat in, and it makes his clothes start to feel gross on his skin, way too cold in contrast. He swallows his pride and looks at what Steve gave him to change into.

There’s two shirts, a henley and a drug rug, a pair of fleece pajama pants, and some fuzzy hospital socks with the grips on the bottom.

Before he puts his shirt on, he notices there’s bruises on his shoulders, on his back and his elbows, from the many times the ice had sent his feet out from under him, but honestly, it gives him this strange sense of pride, knowing he put them there himself.

He was more than used to marks on his skin, put there by an angry father and his rage, so it was a welcome change to know he’d just gotten these ones just from being clumsy. He almost didn’t want to cover them up, but another shiver ran up his spine, causing goose pimples to pop up all over his body, and he elected to slip the two shirts Steve had picked for him over his head, just to keep himself from freezing.

Wearing Steve’s clothes makes him look soft in every way that was not like him. Without his usual denim and leather, he just looked like the boring version of himself. No longer the stereotypical image of high school bad boy he tries so hard for, he just plain old Billy.

He likes it. A lot. Stares at himself in that huge mirror for longer than is probably considered normal before deciding he should leave the bathroom.

Back in the living room, there’s a huge glass protected fireplace on the far wall, in front of which Steve’s on his knees currently trying, and failing, to start a fire up in. At home, all Billy had was a dinky plug in fireplace that stank like hot dust, but he knew how to start a fire regardless.

He’d been there when his father burnt all of his mother’s things she’d left behind.

“You need a starter.”

Steve jumps, apparently having not noticed Billy coming into the room. “What, like gas?”

“Jesus Christ, no, not like gas. We're inside, doofus.” He has to laugh at Steve’s incompetence, but he offers his help. “You have any of those bricks?”

“These?” Steve opens a drawer beside the fireplace full of fire starters, and Billy realizes this is just another piece of the set. He’d be the first person to actually use this fireplace in years, if anyone even ever had before him.

“Yeah, those.” He confirms, but Steve just sits there, doesn’t know what to do with it. “Just put it under the wood and light it.”

“Huh.” Steve looks at the fire he made, seemingly a little surprised that it worked, brushes his hands on his pants and turns to Billy. He looks him up and down, taking in how he looked in the change of clothes and grins as he says, “You look cozy.”

Billy, trying to make up for the way his heart starts pounding from the observation, bites back, “And you look like a gracious host who’s going to make me a hot coffee.”

Steve looks like he thinks for a second before he asks, “Would you settle for hot cocoa?”

“I don’t care, long as it’s warm.”

Billy waits until Steve disappears around the corner into the kitchen before he sits down cross legged on the floor in front of the fire place.

The warmth of the fire radiates over him in a way that brings feeling back to his body, is almost soothing.

When he was little, he could remember having bonfires on cool summer nights out back of their first house in California. The lick of the flames against wood, the way the bright tendrils of fire would dance used to be so calming. He’d always fall asleep outside in a canvas lawn chair, and wake up the next morning tucked into his bed.

But the heat is too much, makes his skin itch, burning from the inside out in a way that wasn’t so pleasant.

He remembers his father, drunk off his ass, dragging him out to that same fire pit by his arm, leaving welts on soft skin, forcing him to watch as he burned every memory they had of his mother. Every picture, every possession, every shred of clothing, burnt to ash until there was nothing left but her voice on the other end of a telephone, and even that stopped after a little while.

He doesn’t notice Steve come back from the kitchen, he’s too caught up in the flames, curling up around the wood and leaving burnt destruction in its wake.

Too entranced by the fire warming him up and freezing him over at the same time. The brightness of it leaves black and pink spots on his vision from how intensely he’d been staring.

“I didn’t have any marshmallows so I-” Steve stops talking when he sees Billy, sees that he’s crying, sitting stock still and just, staring into the fire place. “Oh.”

Billy startles from the sound of his voice, blinks too fast, trying to chase away the splotches of light burnt into his eyes. The action forces him to realize there are tears wetting cheeks, which he wipes at a little too aggressive with his sleeve, hoping Steve won’t say anything.

And he doesn’t, he just reaches down and hands him a mug, not letting go until Billy's got both hands on it and he’s sure he won’t drop it. Billy hadn’t noticed himself shaking until he saw the way the cocoa rippled in the red mug.

Steve clears his throat, trying to think of the right thing to say. “You still cold?”

“No shit. I was out there for three hours.” It’s harsh, overcompensating for sure.

Steve nods, but points out his inconsistency. “I thought you lost track of time?”

“My brain thawed out and I remembered.” He mumbles. It makes Steve laughs, and Billy’s heart feels like it could burst.

“Well, I have some extra blankets and stuff, if you’re still cold.” Steve offers, and Billy nods in response, as if to say that that sounded nice without out actually having to admit anything.

But Steve doesn’t make any moves to go get it, just stands there shuffling his feet and looking down into his cocoa. Billy can already tell he’s going to say something that he doesn’t want to hear.

Before Steve can embarrass him, Billy asks impatient, “You gonna go get it or you gonna let me freeze?”

“Right. Yeah.” Steve bends down and sets his mug down on the lip of the fireplace and pads off to some storage closet somewhere in the mansion. Billy rolls his eyes and promptly moves it to the coffee table to keep the ceramic from heating up and burning him when he picked it up next.

Initially, Billy thinks nothing of it when Steve comes back with only one blanket. It seems perfectly reasonable to him that Steve, who had been in this well heated house presumably all day, just isn’t cold.

But when he sits back down he’s close enough that their knees bump where they’re crossed, and he spreads just the one blanket out across the both of them.

Thank god for the fact that there was already a flush on his cheeks from the fire, because Billy definitely would’ve been blushing like a little schoolgirl at that.

They don’t talk about anything, because there’s nothing too talk about. It’s a comfortable silence that settles between them, broken up only by the crackling and popping of the fire.

But after a while with nothing to distract him, to keep him aware that this was Steve’s house, Steve’s Persian rug underneath him, Steve himself sitting next to him, Billy drifts back to smoke filled lungs straining with the effort of screaming for his mom, to the fist in his hair forcing him to watch.

Steve notices in an instant, those blue eyes going dull, his nostrils flaring and his jaw clenching, and the way his nails dig into his palms.

He sets his mug back down on the coffee table behind them, and gets up on his knees. He wraps the blanket they’d been sharing around Billy’s shoulders, and then his arms, linking his fingers together so he’s hugging Billy.

Except the slightest fluttering of his eyelashes, Billy shows no signs of a reaction. Steve takes that as his motivation to keep trying, and puts a hand on the back of his neck, says, “Hey, Billy.”

It makes his breath hitch, coming out in a cut off sigh. Billy asks, a little monotonous, “What’re you doin’?”

“Keeping you warm.”

Billy appreciates him not bringing up what’s obviously happening, but his head’s only partly coming back to him, and all he has the capacity to come up with as a response is, “Oh.”

Steve squeezes him a little tighter, his face pressing against his shoulder, to get him through the rest of it, to bring him back to earth.

It’s a while before he gets anything else from Billy. Long enough that he has to move so he doesn’t kill his knees sitting up on them, and he ends up with them thrown over top of Billy’s, so they can be as close as possible.

Because Billy wasn’t exactly back there anymore, but he wasn’t quite here either. He could hear Steve, feel his arm around his shoulders, his knuckles rubbing absently up his arm, he just couldn’t reach him yet.

When he gets back in his own head, he takes a moment to figure out where he is, and once he’s got it, he hooks his hands under Steve’s thighs, pulls him the rest of the way into his lap.

He doesn’t think about boundaries, about the fact that he should be more cautious, he just leans forward, presses their foreheads together and says, barely above a whisper, “Thank you.”

“Yeah. Anything for you.” Steve’s got a smile on his face, warm and genuine and blissful, and Billy can’t help the one that forms on his to match.

That’s where they stay until morning comes around. Billy just didn’t have the energy to get up and go home so late, and Steve didn’t have the heart to make him.

He got the throw pillows down off the couch, and they went to sleep the way they were, wrapped up in each other by the fire, well after it burns out and the last of the wood is gone.

Billy wakes up stiff from sleeping on the floor, but he couldn’t have been in any place more comfortable than Steve’s arms.

What Steve had done for him was practically unheard of. It was everything he was supposed to do, inviting someone in when they were cold, helping them out when they were feeling bad, but he’d never had that before. Not from anyone.

He’d hold the memory of Steve, holding him by the fire, equal parts concerned about getting him warm and getting him out of his head, in his heart forever.

That’s what he’s thinking about when he falls back asleep with a smile on his face, how this was just the start of making so many more memories to chase out the old.

Maybe Hawkins and it’s shitty winters wouldn’t be so bad, if he could spend them all like this.

[raiseyourcups]

Cabur

Chapter Nine

Pairing: Din Djarin x Original Female Character (Aili Verdella) Warnings: Reckless piloting of the Razor Crest, Aili calls Mando stupid but what else is new, she also threatens Toro but who wouldn’t, a little more pining (someone please catch the classic reference I used), people imply those two are together Word Count: 3.5k Also on AO3 

Masterlist

Summary: After a dogfight, the Mandalorian, Aili, and the Child take a pit stop on Tatooine where Mando finds them a job teaming up with a wannabe Guild member. Aili thinks Mando is hilarious when she finds out who they’re going after but she wouldn’t miss out on this job for anything now. Even if their “partner” is as big an idiot as Mando. 

"Move!" Aili shoved the Mandalorian as hard as she could before grabbing the main piloting controls from him. He wasn't the worst pilot but if they wanted to make it out of this dogfight in one piece, they'd need a little more finesse. He had already let the other bounty hunter land a hit on one of the engines. She shook her head in exasperation when Mando didn't move from the pilot seat so she stood in the small space between his seat and the controls. 

"I can bring you in warm or I can bring you in cold," the hunter said over the comm and Aili rolled her eyes at the cliche saying. She didn't even bother saying anything, pulling the controls hard to the side to avoid another shot.

"That's my line." Mando said from behind her and Aili let out an irritated sound. Was that really what he was annoyed about right now? It didn’t matter though, she was too busy calculating a way to get rid of the other hunter. It took another half a second before she knew what to do about him but she wasn't in a chair right now because Mando didn’t seem to want to move.

"Do me a favor, di’kut, don't let me go flying into the ceiling." She didn't give Mando a chance to ask what she meant before she started to pull the ship into a barrel roll in order to land in the space behind the other hunter's ship. She heard Mando let out a noise of surprise when the flip started and he moved forward to place one hand on her waist to keep her from losing her balance, his other hand coming to rest against the small of her back to keep her from moving backwards. She blamed the way her stomach lurched on the barrel roll itself because obviously that’s what it was that caused it. 

"Thanks." She said, before aiming at the other ship and firing once it was in the sights. She smirked as she heard the man scream before the ship exploded. "And that's how you do that."

She didn't get more time to gloat when the ship gave a sudden lurch and she fell backwards onto the Mandalorian's lap. His one hand was still on her waist while the other one slipped from her back to the other side of her waist. Aili’s side involuntarily twitched at the way his hand moved but she decidedly ignored this.

"That's the engine." She scrambled out of the Mandalorian’s hold and got back to her own seat to check over the nav panels. She had absolutely no idea where they were. 

Mando took a moment, flexing his hands before shaking his head and checking over his own panels, "We're losing fuel." 

“Well that’s just great,” Aili said, finally figuring out what the nearest planet to them was. Thankfully it was a useful one. “Tatooine is our best bet.”

That was when the engine powered down and everything shut off, including the lights. The Child let out an excited coo and Aili wondered how he could find this fun. Then again her idea of fun as a kid used to be getting a new blaster so maybe she wasn’t the best judge. Mando let out a sigh and got up to power the engine back up, though it wouldn't last much longer. They were right by Tatooine like Aili said and Mando made for it, switching on the radio as he did.

"This is Mos Eisley Tower, we are tracking you. Head for bay three-five. Peli Motto is the mechanic there, over." The tower operator’s bored voice sounded throughout the cabin. 

"Copy that," Aili said, giving Mando the chance to put all of his focus on getting them through the atmo without killing them all. "Locked in for three-five."

He brought them in as smoothly as possible, Aili would give him a little credit for that considering the engines had both taken hits. She wasn’t going to do so out loud though, he still hadn’t thanked her for fixing the gen room. She had nightmares about the crossed wiring and still wondered how it hadn’t blown up earlier. 

Aili winced as she heard the creaking and groaning as the landing gear came out. Yeah that, that wasn’t good. “Here’s hoping it’s not too expensive,” Aili said as they both got up from their seats. A quiet coo distracted Mando before he could reply and Aili let out a quiet chuckle as she looked down at the Child whose eyes were drooping closed. 

Aili watched as Mando laid the Child down in the cot, a small smile on her face. He had gotten himself so excited earlier that now he had tired himself out. They headed down to the gangway and that's when Mando decided to shoot at the ground in front of the small droids.

"What the kriff, Mando?" Aili exclaimed, her immediate reaction being to reach over and force his blaster arm down to his side. "It's just a pit droid!"

"Hey! You damage one of my droids and I'll make you pay for it!" The mechanic, Peli, came out shouting and Aili knew she’d have to turn up the charm now. If there was one person you didn’t want to piss off, it was the one who was going to be fixing your ship. Mando was lucky last time when she helped fix the gen room because she was also stuck on the ship so no matter how much he pissed her off, she wouldn’t cross any wires. Not if she wanted to stay alive that is. 

Aili turned to the mechanic, Peli, and gave her an apologetic smile. The one that worked on everyone that she had ever met.  "Sorry about him."

"Keep them away from my ship," Mando said, walking the rest of the way down the gangway with Aili behind him. She felt her eye twitch in annoyance. 

"Really sorry about him,” Aili added, subtly reaching over and pinching him hard through the arm of the suit he wore. He flinched and looked down at her, she could read the irritation in his body but she didn’t care. She shook her head at him, her brow furrowed in annoyance, before turning back to the mechanic with another smile. 

"Yeah well let me take a look at your ship. See if that’s a good idea." Peli walked over to the Crest, banging on one section before she looked up and pulled out a scanner. “You’ve got a lot of carbon scoring up top. If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you were in a shootout.”

“We were, some idiot bounty hunter got our ship confused with another. Took us almost half a parsec to lose him,” Aili said, making sure to sound as exasperated as possible. The mechanic turned to look at her, sizing her up almost to see if she was lying. 

“Huh,” Peli finally shrugged, turning back to the ship. “I’m gonna have to rotate that. You’ve got a fuel leak! This is a mess, I’m surprised you could even land!”

“We were honestly just glad to break atmo without anything catching on fire.”

She walked away from the ship and looked at them with pursed lips, “This is gonna set you two back.”

“I’ve got 500 Imperial credits,” Mando said, pulling the credits out as he did.

“And I have 500 Calamari Flan,” Aili added as she pulled her credits out as well, already internally wincing at the fact that she was having to dip into the nest egg she had saved up. But it wasn’t like they had been able to take any jobs since leaving Nevarro, the villagers on Sorgan had already been kind enough to not charge them anything for their room and board. Had said taking care of the raiders was enough payment for the three of them to stay for weeks. 

“That should cover the hangar and the fuel leak,” Peli said as she took both of their payments. 

“We’ll get you your money.” Mando said shortly. Although Aili thought she heard a hint of embarrassment in his tone. She couldn’t blame him, even when times were rough she always had enough to get her ship fixed when it needed to be. Right now though she was trying to keep a persona on and since she was the only one who had a visible expression, it all fell on her to sell the act. 

“Heard that one before.”

“Just remember-”

“She gets it Mando, no droids. Why don’t you head out and I’ll catch up with you at the cantina in a few?” Aili ordered more than asked while still keeping her voice even. Mando stared down at her for a long moment before nodding and turning to leave. She knew he’d have no option other than the cantina because there was nowhere else to ask around for a job on the planet anyway. She watched as he left before turning to face Peli again. 

“I’m really sorry about him, it’s been...a very long day,” Aili said, brow a little furrowed as she spoke to Peli. Hopefully she wasn’t selling it too hard but she couldn’t be bothered to really try at the moment. 

“With the amount of damage you took, I can imagine.” Peli said, brow still raised in annoyance. She still thought she wouldn’t be getting paid for her work and Aili couldn’t blame her. They had barely given her enough to cover the hangar and one of the multiple repairs they needed. 

“We promise to pay you, this is Tatooine. There’s always some idiot with a job.”

“Been here often?”

“More times than I’ve wanted.” Aili let out a short laugh with no actual humor behind it. “I should go catch up with him, make sure he doesn’t pick a crap job.”

“Good luck with that, he doesn’t seem like the brightest star in the galaxy.”

“Tell me something I don’t know.” Aili turned to leave when she paused at the thought of the sleeping Child on the ship. Maybe she should tell the woman about him, but she didn’t know how far information on his bounty had travelled. She wrestled with herself for a moment before turning back to face Peli.

“Oh, also I just want to let you know that we have a child on the ship, but he’s sleeping right now.”

“You and the Mandalorian have a child?” Peli asked, voice incredulous at the thought. She had noticed the way the other woman had seemed to barely tolerate the Mandalorian and vice versa. 

Aili couldn’t stop the full body shudder that went through her at the mere thought of not only having a child but having one with the Mandalorian. “Oh Maker no! No, ew, long story. But he’s sleeping and I’d rather not take a baby to a cantina anyway so…”

“I’ll watch him if he wakes up but it’ll cost extra if he’s fussy, I’m not a babysitter.”

“Thank you, anything I can bring back from the cantina for you?”

“Not this time. Go ahead and catch up to that Mando before he pisses anyone else off.”

Aili gave Peli one more smile and nod before turning to head out the same way that Mando had. Hopefully he hadn’t already found a job without her. She didn’t want to get stuck with anything barely worth it or even something that would be impossible to manage. Not that there was a lot she couldn’t handle but she still wasn’t sure about Mando. She had yet to really see him in a fight. 

It took a while to get to the cantina as it was nowhere near Peli’s bay. Aili let out another annoyed sigh, really hoping that Mando hadn’t found a job yet without her. She felt like she needed to vet anything he found because he clearly didn’t know how to pick his battles. First he chose to take on an Imp job for beskar (which she understood, beskar belonged to Mandalorians to do with as they saw fit) but then he hadn’t been able to tell that the job on Sorgan would actually be worth it until he met an attractive, single widow who looked at him like he hung the sun in the sky. She got it, the idea of being able to settle down was always on her mind, but it wasn’t feasible at the moment. 

“Kriff!” Aili cursed as she narrowly avoided bumping straight into a beskar covered chest. She hadn’t even noticed he was there, so lost in her thoughts about how dumb he was. She glared up at the Mandalorian, “I said I’d meet you inside.”

“We have a job already,” he said, walking back towards Peli’s hangar before Aili could say anything. 

“Oh we do? How much?” Aili asked, keeping up with him easily, but she was a little impressed that he had found a job so quickly. People were usually wary around obvious bounty hunters and Mando was obviously one with all that hard, shiny armor. 

“More than enough. Dumb kid named Toro Calican wants help taking down Fennec Shand in the Dune Sea so he can join the Guild.”

Laughter bubbled up and escaped Aili’s mouth before she could stop herself. “Sorry, did you just say Fennec Shand? The mercenary slash assassin?”

“Yes.” Mando paused before his helmet tilted to the side, mistaking her laughter for nervousness,  “You don’t have to come with us.”

“Oh I’m going with you, if only to see you get your ass handed to you again,” Aili laughed again, knowing that she wouldn’t miss this job for anything in the galaxy. “How are we splitting the pay?”

“Says he’ll give us all of it. Just needs it done to get into the Guild,” Mando explained as they kept walking back to the hangar. 

“Is this kid stupid or what?” Aili asked, taken aback because she just knew that any bounty on Fennec Shand had to be high. Like, afford a brand new ship money. 

“He broke the tracking fob rather than giving it to me, so yes. But he’s going to meet us in half an hour with speeder bikes.”

“Wow, actually is this kid related to you? Because that’s some top class stupidity,” Aili said, smirk on her face when Mando paused for about half a second before continuing to walk, a little faster now so Aili had to almost jog to keep up with him. She supposed she deserved that for her comment but now he was just using her short legs against her. They made it back to Peli’s hangar faster than it took to get to the cantina, mainly because of the Mandalorian’s pace. 

He walked straight for the ship while Aili figured she’d wait for him to grab his gear before she went for hers. She had barely sat down on an empty fuel drum when he stalked back out and headed for one of the pit droids. 

“Hey!” He shouted, causing the pit droid to let out a scared sound before collapsing onto itself. “Where is he?”

“Mando, stop scaring the droids!” Aili didn’t know what his problem with droids was and frankly she didn’t care. But he needed to stop scaring them otherwise she was going to hit him. The sound of the Child crying took her attention away from Mando and she watched as Peli came forward with the Child in her arms.

“Oh you woke it up! Do you have any idea how long it took for me to get him to sleep?” Peli complained as she tried to bounce the Child a little to calm him down. Aili gave Mando a side glare since she knew it was his shouting that had scared Little Green. 

“Give him to me,” Mando demanded, pointing a finger at Peli. 

“No, I’ll give him to her because she has a head on her shoulders,” Peli said, handing Aili the Child. “She at least let me know he was still on the ship rather than just walking out without saying anything.”

Aili took the Child in her arms, giving him a smile as he let out a quiet sniffle. She ran a finger down his nose, her smile getting a little bigger when he stopped crying and a small smile appeared on his face. No one saw the look Mando was giving her behind his helmet before he shook his thoughts away and turned back to Peli. 

"Got started on the repairs, fixed the fuel leak. Everything else is still a mess except for the generator room. Whoever fixed that knew what they were doing,” Peli sounded a little impressed and Aili smiled over at the mechanic. 

"Thank you,” Aili said, glad that someone appreciated the hard work she had put into fixing the mess Mando had called a working gen room.

"Ah I knew it wasn't Mando who did that."

"I could have,” Mando said, clearly peeved with the two woman talking about him like he wasn’t even there. They both turned to look at him, Aili with one brow raised because she knew how useless he had been the whole time she was fixing his mess. She couldn’t see as he flushed under her stare but he didn’t try to say anything else. Smart move.

Peli looked him up and down. "Sure you could. There were a couple of setbacks I wanted to talk to you about.”

Aili watched as Mando headed back up the gangway and grabbed his pack. She went up as well once he was back down and she grabbed her own small go-bag. It only had weapons she considered essential and a couple of ration bars along with a waterskin that she always kept ready to go. 

“I figured you two would be good for the money since you’ve got this little one to feed,” Peli said, nodding her head towards the Child that Aili was still holding. The Mandalorian stared at Peli silently before tilting his helmet towards her.

“Thank you,” was all he said before walking away just as quickly as he had walked in again. Aili watched him walk away 

“A brief moment of manners and then he just...screws it all up,” Aili mumbled under her breath as she walked after him, nodding for Peli to come with her. 

“So you got a job?” Peli asked, following after the two of them. “‘Cause you know it costs a lot to keep these droids up and running.”

“We did and I know, we should be back soon. Seems like an easy enough job to me,” Aili said as she and Peli stepped back out into Tatooine where Mando was waiting with the dumb kid that they had partnered with. 

“Check it out, Mando. Not too shabby, huh?” Aili stood back with Peli as she looked the young man up and down. He seemed too...clean to be a bounty hunter but there was something else about him that she didn’t like. He seemed too eager and that was dangerous when it came to high paying bounties. She turned her attention over to where Mando was inspecting their speeder bike but he didn’t seem impressed when he looked back up at the wannabe bounty hunter. 

“What do you expect? This isn’t Corellia.” Toro shrugged before turning to look back at Peli and Aili, only recognizing Peli. He gave the Child a confused look before he looked up and Aili. “This your wife and...kid?” 

Aili gave him a blank stare knowing that she had not just heard him refer to her as Mando’s wife. “Call me that again and I’ll make sure you never join the Guild.” She handed the Child over to Peli before taking a step towards the speeder bike she was obviously going to share with Mando and tying her own pack down. Mando stood beside her stiffly. 

“Really and how will you do that? Get your husband to kill me for you?”

“Do you like breathing?” Aili asked, lunging forward to attack the boy but Mando wrapped a hand around her upper arm to stop her. She still enjoyed the way the little boy flinched despite her not getting anywhere near him. 

“Enough, get on the speeder,” Mando said, looking down at Aili before looking over at Toro and nodding for him to do the same. 

“Fine,” Aili said after giving Toro one last hard look. She got up on the speeder, Mando getting on behind her and reaching forward to take the handles before she even had a chance to reach for them. She rolled her eyes and scooted as far up as she could to put distance between her and Mando. She wouldn’t fall off as long as he kept the bike steady which if he knew what was good for him, he would. Then they were off for the Dune Sea.

[harrylee94]

The Tournament - Chapter 8

You can find this on AO3!

Summary: Cobb led his horse from the field with a smile on his lips and a slight skip in his step. He'd won. The first round, sure, but he'd beat a knight, a noble from some Clan from far away, and he'd passed on to the next round. He knew that the fight was far from over and that it would likely only get harder from here, but he was so proud of himself. There had been a moment, just before their lances had met, that he'd thought he wouldn't be able to make it, that this had all been a terrible idea and he was going to lose. That he was going to be revealed as a fraud and his hard earned armour would be taken from him.

But then he'd won the bout, and Prince Din congratulating him had felt like the sun was shining on him.

Notes:

Not quite as exciting as last chapter, but fun all the same!

Chapter 7

——————————————————————

"They go by the name 'The Krayt Dragon'." - Cobb

Cobb led his horse from the field with a smile on his lips and a slight skip in his step. He'd won. The first round, sure, but he'd beat a knight, a noble from some Clan from far away, and he'd passed on to the next round. He knew that the fight was far from over and that it would likely only get harder from here, but he was so proud of himself. There had been a moment, just before their lances had met, that he'd thought he wouldn't be able to make it, that this had all been a terrible idea and he was going to lose. That he was going to be revealed as a fraud and his hard earned armour would be taken from him.

But then he'd won the bout, and Prince Din congratulating him had felt like the sun was shining on him.

He couldn't have been more grateful to Jo for the design on his armour. It made him feel like he belonged there, that he had made a Clan of his own with her and Peli, and now it had become a part of his persona. He hated that he had to remain silent when Din had addressed them, but he knew that his voice would have been recognisable.

The Prince had still smiled. Briefly, but it was still a smile, and even if he ended up losing tomorrow, a part of him would be happy to have achieved that.

Chenin, the gelding Peli had decided would be the best choice for him to ride (and least likely for anyone to recognise under the caparison), had done well, and Cobb was determined to reward him once they reached safety. From the sight of Ser Jaonar, half-armoured and walking with a swagger in his step, he got the feeling it wouldn't be anytime soon.

"Congratulations," the noble said, his voice holding only amusement. "I don't think anyone's had the crowd so riled up in years."

Cobb paused and looked at him, remaining silent; he couldn't take the chance that this idiot would recognise him.

The knight waited -- probably for him to say something -- before deciding that waiting was too boring and chuckled. "You're a bit of a showman, aren't you? Have to say, I kind of wish I'd thought of that. Wouldn't have worked so well, what with my superior and, unfortunately in this instance, easily recognisable armour, but it would have been fun, just to see everyone's faces when I revealed myself."

Cobb leaned back a little to imply some sort of agreement, though he was more reeling over the fact that Jaonar was talking to him as though he was something approaching an equal rather than a simple stable boy.

The knight grinned. “I thought so,” he said. Leaning down a little to try and look through the visor. Cobb took a step back. “Aw come on now, you’re not out there anymore. You can show me your face.”

Cobb’s hand tightened on Chenin’s reins, but he otherwise kept his stoic demeanor.

Ser Jaonar tilted his head, the amusement beginning to fade. “Now you’re just being rude. It’s one thing to hide who you are to the rabble, but it’s just you and me here.”

It wasn’t. There were people all around them. The knight had stopped him in the middle of a thoroughfare in fact, and people were stopping to watch.

When the knight made to step closer, Cobb put his hand on the hilt of his sword.

“Woah!” the entitled lordling said, bringing his hands up and stepping away. “Message received! You could have just said something.”

Cobb narrowed his eyes at him.

Jaonar smirked. “I guess that would ruin the image if you did though, wouldn’t it?” He stepped back further and shook his head. “I suppose I’ll have to watch your joust then. We’ll all know who you are once you lose.”

Cobb sneered until the nobleman turned and left.

Entertainment -- or at least the potential of it -- now gone, the spectators also started to move along, and Cobb forced himself to start moving again. All the joy he’d felt from winning had been squashed down and replaced with the fear of being discovered, of Jaonar being the one to do it, and he quickly led Chenin through the makeshift camp.

It took longer than he’d hoped to get to the tent Peli had set up, hidden away between a laundry area and a temporary storage place for barrels of ale owned by one of Cobb’s friends. As soon as he and Chenin were safely ensconced within and the tent flap secured in place, he removed his helmet with a relieved sigh.

Unfortunately, due to the nature of his secrecy, he had to remove his armour himself, which was both incredibly difficult and time consuming. The straps were in awkward positions, and his body ached from being battered by a lance and almost losing his seat, but with patience (and a lot of cursing) he was able to remove enough of it to remove the caparison from Chenin. He’d loosened the saddle and bridle straps already, but the additional fabric would not have been comfortable in the already stuffy tent.

Once all the armour had been removed and he had returned to his usual clothes, he packed everything away into two burlap sacks and placed them over the back of Chenin’s saddle before leading him back to the castle stables, just as he would be doing on any other working day.

“I send you out to take that poor thing for some exercise, and you’re gone for the whole morning!” Peli exclaimed as he arrived, hands on her hips.

“It’s the Tournament, Peli!” he replied. “There are people everywhere!”

“That sounds like bullshit,” she said.

“Have you seen what it’s like out there?”

“I’ve seen enough to know it shouldn’t have taken you all morning to take a horse out for some exercise.”

“Sometimes they need a whole morning!”

“Oh, so now the whole morning was because of the exercise and not because of the Tournament?”

“Peli…”

"Look, if you wanted to watch, you could have just said so! You don't have to lie about it."

"I'm not-! I didn't go to the Tournament!"

Peli looked him over with her scrupulous gaze. "Take Chenin to his stall."

"I was about to."

“If this happens again, I’m docking your pay.”

“How is that fair?”

“Maybe if you manage to clean up the stalls like you’re supposed to, I’ll rethink my offer.”

“Offer?!”

“Did I stutter?”

They shared a heated glare, but Cobb turned away first with a huff. “It wasn’t my fault.”

“Those stalls won’t clean themselves!” she called after him as he led Chenin away.

When he was safely hidden away he grinned as he heard Peli muttering about incompetent stable hands as she walked away.

It was all going according to plan. Peli had already cleaned up the stalls, of course, but they had to put on a show in case anyone had been watching, which meant that Cobb could hide his armour and care for Chenin in peace, and he took full advantage of it. The gelding had performed beautifully, behaving so well in front of everyone, and following Cobb’s every request. He was richly rewarded with mint leaves, his favourite treat, and a good brushing and fresh oats. It was as he was finishing his brushing that he heard a knock on the stall door.

“I brought lunch,” Jo called through the opening, sending him a knowing smirk.

“I’ll be right with ya,” he answered, and stroked a hand over Chenin’s nose. “You were such a good boy for me today. Think you’ll be up for it again tomorrow?” The horse huffed in what he took to be a yes, and he smiled, pressing his brow to the space between Chenin’s eyes. “Thank you.”

With one last pat he headed out and greeted Jo with a smile and a hug.

"You did so well," she said into his shoulder while she had the chance, then held up her bundle when she pulled back. "I have leftovers from the feast. And before you ask! Yes, I did get your favourite."

"Marry me," Cobb said, only to laugh as she pushed him away by his face.

"You're not my type."

Still snorting, the stable hand retrieved the sacks from earlier and slung them by the adjoining rope over his shoulders. "Peli! I'm going for lunch!"

"What you telling me for?" his boss said from one of the stalls. "It's not like you don't take breaks whenever you please!"

He rolled his eyes and shared a look with Jo. "I'll be back soon!"

Before she had the chance to reply again, they left and headed for the ramparts. The guards up there gave them a nod in greeting, well used to their presence for midday meal, and allowed them to sit on the edge with a good view of the list field. From this distance he couldn't tell who was up, but he could see armoured figures charging and hear the distant cheers of the crowd.

"How are they doing out there?" Cobb asked as Jo unravelled their lunch, revealing a mildly warm pot of Tiingilar, some bread and cheese, and a selection of cold meats.

She shrugged. "As well as you'd expect. They're hitting each other off of horses with long sticks, then whacking each other with swords until one of them falls over."

Cobb snorted. "That sounds to be the long and short of it."

"Someone got their leg broken earlier."

"Oh?"

"It was one of those assholes from last week."

"Oh."

He used the bread to scoop up some of the spicy stew and all he but melted when it hit his tongue. He really did love Tiingilar, but he didn't have the time to make it, or the facilities. Most of the time he ended up grabbing food he could easily cook quickly in a pot at the end of the day, usually while he was practicing with his sword, but every so often the kitchens would share a little taste of heaven and he'd regret never having the time.

"There's this one knight that everyone's talking about though," Jo said mischievously. "You probably missed them while you were working."

Cobb raised his eyebrow at her as he chewed.

"They go by the name 'The Krayt Dragon'."

Cobb almost inhaled his Tiingilar and ended up coughing up what felt like half a lung. A knight? People thought he was a knight? That was flattering, but oh was that bad. That was very bad in fact. Joining a tournament under a false name was one thing, but impersonating a knight was a punishable offence.

“Wh-what?”

"They’re calling them ‘The Dragon Knight’,” Jo continued, eyes flickering to where the guard must still have been standing, a warning that he kept himself under control. “Which is simply absurd considering they’ve already given themselves a title. Plus they haven’t said anything about being a knight. Or anything at all really; no one’s heard him say a word, even after they won their round.”

“That is strange,” Cobb agreed, his appetite waning in his worry but he continued to eat anyway; the Tiingilar was too good to waste. "What else are people saying?"

“Well, there’s speculation about who they are, of course,” Jo explained around a mouthful. “People think they might be a knight from some noble house that’s down on their luck, but that doesn’t sit well with most. Some people think they’re after the Prince, but with the way they bowed to him, that doesn’t sound right either.” That anyone thought that at all made his stomach churn, but he only nodded and waited for her to continue. “Some people think they’re just ugly or heavily scarred or something, and that either they can’t speak or they just don’t due to some vow or something.” Cobb snorted. He couldn’t picture himself ever making a vow of silence.

“Then there are those who think they’re maybe a disgraced knight, or even a mercenary.” Jo paused to drink some ale from her waterskin, offering it to him once she was done, which he took gratefully. “My personal favourite is that they’re some lowborn who got their hands on some armour and a good horse. Call me sentimental, but those nobles need a bit of humbling.”

“Couldn’t agree with you more,” Cobb said as he took one more swig of ale. “Best of luck to them, whoever they may be.” They’d certainly need it.

——————————————————————

Notes: Chenin is a play on Chenini, one of the 3 moons of Tatooine.

Chapter 9

[louthestarspeaker]

Thunder

For the lovely @tsarinatorment, for her birthday this past week! Sorry about the wait! 

She requested something with her boy Scotty and protective little brothers.(I may have taken those prompts to the extreme... ) 

I hope you enjoy, Tsari! ~Lou xx

Bit of violence in this one, nothing graphic but thought I should make it clear.

“Aw, come on, John,” Alan said, working to keep the whine from his voice. “I’m wasting time just standing here.”

John’s hologram was tapping away at something Alan couldn’t see, lending Alan one ear while the rest of him was focused on whatever it was he was poking at. “You’re not ‘wasting time’, Alan. You’re waiting for backup.”

“I don’t need backup-” A pointed look from John was all it took to halt that trail of conversation. Alan sighed and switched tactics. “What if the guy’s hurt in there? I’m needed.”

“Scans show the life sign is moving around, I doubt he’s too injured. He can wait two minutes.”

“What about the building?”

“It’ll hold.” 

“Not if there’s another quake.”

“I’m monitoring seismic activity, Alan, you know that.”

Alan scoffed. John with his answers.

The building was hardly damaged, it’d just been evacuated as a precaution. Now apparently some thrill-seeking knucklehead had wandered in, and now someone needed to get him out again. It was the most simple and straightforward mission they could’ve asked for.

Except Alan’s brother’s didn’t think he could do it without a babysitter. Cue the Smother Hen.

There was the tell tale rumble as a Pod rolled up, and out hopped Scott, probably pulled from some other more important task to chaperone his baby brother. 

Scott greeted him with a clap on the shoulder. “You ready, Alan?”

“I’ve been ready for the past five minutes.” Alan said, latching on his helmet with more force than strictly necessary. “I thought you were supposed to be the fast one, I could’ve been in and out by now.”

“Alan.” Scott said nothing more, but stormy blue eyes made the message crystal clear. He was out of line.

Alan’s eyes shifted the side. He was still working on separating Brother Scott from Commander Scott, that kind of snark didn’t fly when they were in the field. He made himself meet Scott’s eyes as he apologized. "Sorry."

Scott nodded, the storm in his eyes retreating. “Come on, we’ve got work to do.”

They flicked on the lights on their helmets, following John’s instructions through the apartment complex. Scott took point, Alan walked a step behind him. 

Alan swallowed a sigh. So maybe his delivery had been garbage, but there was more than a little truth to the fact that his brothers babied him. Alan was the youngest of the family, he got that, watching out for him was practically in his brothers’ job descriptions. And at home? Sure, whatever, they could coddle him all they wanted, he was used to it and knew when to push back. 

But out here in the field? Alan had a new role. He was a member of International Rescue, and with the exception of Scott he was their equal. Their familial hierarchy shouldn’t matter.

John led Alan and Scott up numerous flights of stairs, landing them on the fifth floor. Besides his direction and Scott’s affirmative, not much else was said.

They rounded a bend and there was their guy, just like John had said. The hall was dark, and the man, who’d had his back toward them, rounded as soon as their lights landed on him. Even under the bright beam of light, the man visibly blanched as he took in their uniforms. Guess he was just now realizing how much trouble his daredevil stunt had landed him in.

 Alan held out a hand in a placating gesture. “Come on, we're not here to take you in or anything-” Alan bumped into Scott’s arm as his older brother stopped him from taking a step forward. 

Alan looked up at him in confusion (surely Scott would let him do this much), and was startled to find another storm brewing in his brother’s eyes, his stare fixed on the man in front of them.

A shift in Scott’s flashlight and Alan zeroed in on a large duffle bag and crowbar, settled at the man’s feet. 

A looter.

The man seemed to know the moment Alan realized what he was, his face turning from pale to red in the space of a few moments. “You two, you leave me alone, y’hear? Just leave me alone!” 

His voice was loud. Too loud for the quiet hallway, too loud for a man who stood up to his military brother.

“Sir, you need to come with us.” Scott held out a hand, much like Alan did, trying to calm the blustering man. The other hand, the one that had stopped Alan, moved slowly- ever so slowly- to the comm on his baldric.   

The guy caught Scott’s movement. “You think I don’t see what you’re doing?!” He was practically raving now, spittle flying from his mouth and catching the beam of the flashlights.

Gathering his bravery and pushing down his disgust, Alan tried again, willing his voice steady. “Sir, we're not law enforcement-” Again Scott stopped him, this time from even speaking, with a tight hand around his bicep.

Alan’s heart dropped to his stomach, his blood turning cold. He knew that gesture.

Scott had used it when Alan was little, to stop him right before he was about to run into the street without looking.

He’d used it again to yank him out of the way of snarling teeth, when a pair of angry dogs had set their sights on them.

Another time, a tight grip in warning, when a man had walked up to them in the park, claiming to be their father’s friend.

That gesture meant danger. Danger they hadn’t expected. Danger they weren’t prepared for.

And here, this must be what Scott had seen all along, why he wouldn’t let Alan get closer, even by a single step. 

The man pulled a gun from his pocket, flicked off the safety, cocked the hammer, and aimed it at Alan.

Scott’s grip tightened like a vice on his arm. 

The man’s voice was a growl low in his throat. “Don’t. Say. Another. Word.” His hand shook, but his finger twitched on the trigger.

The hand on Alan’s arm was shaking too.

His pulse pounded in his ears.

He watched a bullet of sweat drip down the man’s face.

The man who was pointing a gun at his chest.

Scott moved, slowly, carefully. Alan knew it even though he couldn't look away from the barrel, even though the fear of it was threatening to crush the air from his lungs. 

Scott had a storm in his eyes, and that storm had the man pinned. He wasn’t watching Scott’s hand move toward his comm.

But then the man’s eyes- his awful, awful eyes, that were everything Scott’s weren’t, vile and bulging and listless- they flickered, ticked away for an instant.

And then he saw.

The man closed his eyes as he pulled the trigger, arm recoiling, hand shaking even worse now. He screamed something. Words. But Alan never heard them, because Scott screamed too.

The hand on Alan’s arm fell away, the rest of his brother falling with it. Alan heard his heart shatter when Scott hit the floor, the shards of it stabbed at his lungs and he wondered how his breath and his pulse were both rushing in his ears when there was nothing left to propel either.

And then the man raised his gun again.

Alan saw red, and he wasn’t sure if it was anger or fear or please not blood, but this man was not going to do it again.

“No!” Alan shouted. “No!” 

He stepped between his brother and the monster, arms outstretched as if he could stop the next one, as if he could catch the bullets.

“You give me your belts!” The man was yelling- screaming, red-faced and slurring his words together like a drunk. “You give me your belts, right now!”

“Put the gun down first!” 

Alan was terrified.

“The belts!” The gun shook wildly. “I’ll shoot him again! I will!”

Alan believed him.

“Okay! Okay!”

“And don’t you dare call anyone!”

Alan undid the buckles on his baldric, one by one. He was surprised he even managed, his hands were shaking as bad as the monster’s.

“You throw it over there! Next to the wall!”

Alan did.

“Now you get his! And you don’t call anybody with it!”

Alan spun quickly, crouching next to Scott on the floor, shaking hands on his shoulders. 

Please don’t be dead please don’t be dead please don't be dead please don’t-

Blue eyes. 

Blue eyes with a storm and blue eyes that were pained, but blue eyes that saw him.

Blue eyes that were alive.

“Scott,” Alan was positive he was crying. “Scott.”

“It’s okay. It’s okay, Allie. It’s okay.” Scott gritted the words out from between his teeth, but they somehow still sounded soft to Alan’s ears.

“Give me the belt!”

Alan jumped violently at the sound of the man’s voice, but Scott’s eyes grounded him. He needed to check the wound.

Scott’s hands were clamped around his thigh, red spilling from between the cracks in fingers. Alan had dressed wounds before, but somehow knowing someone did this to Scott made it look ten times worse.

“Get me the belt!” 

Alan jumped again, shutting his eyes as if that would stop the voice. It didn’t, but at least Scott’s voice joined it. Gentle, furious, terrified… 

“Alan.” 

His name was as much of a warning as the hand on his arm had been.

Do what you’re told, Alan.

With a shuddery breath Alan undid Scott’s baldric, muttering sorry sorry sorry when Scott winced or hissed in pain. A gentle, gentle tug and it was free. Alan stood, trying not to think how slippery the material felt in his hand.

“Now you toss it over there! With the other one!” 

Alan did. His brother’s baldric matched his own. 

But finally, finally, the gun turned away from him and his brother. The man aimed his weapon at the baldrics and fired, Alan jumping at the awful sound of it, but the bullet did little damage. Brains was a brilliant engineer.

The man swore angrily, shooting again and again, the many gunshots sounding like one continuous explosion, and Alan stood terrified willing it to stop stop stop. 

But he didn’t stop. The man fired over and over, round after round, until the baldrics were smoking and sparking. Until his bullets ran out. 

And there was a click. Out of ammo.

Fury replaced helplessness in an instant and before Alan knew what he was doing, he was silent and charging, anger crackling in his limbs like lightning. 

He lunged for the gun hand first, jabbing a pressure point and sending the weapon skittering across the floor and out of sight. A knee in the gut had the man gasping, backing up to get more space. Alan took the opportunity to make for his baldric. One glance told him the comms units were destroyed, but the med packs were still intact and Alan dug through the pockets for a sedative. 

“Alan!” Scott’s warning was followed by a solid thump as he tried and failed to stand, but it was enough for Alan to roll out of the way before a crowbar swung through the air where his head had been. 

The man swung wildly, cursing and spitting. His anger made it easy for Alan to dodge, he danced neatly backward on light feet waiting for the man’s frustration to build. The man swug the crowbar wide, and Alan moved in close, exploiting the opening, ducking under the return blow and delivering two deft punches to his stomach.

Before he could recover, Alan spun out of the man’s space, landing behind him and jabbing at a pressure point in his shoulder. The man dropped the crowbar with a yowl of pain and a string of curses. A swift kick between his shoulder blades finished the job, sending him careening into the wall and knocking him out as his head collided with the plaster.

Alan scrambled for his baldric, retrieved a sedative, and delivered enough to keep the guy asleep for hours.

Only then did Alan realize his lungs were burning as if he hadn’t breathed the entire time. 

It was quite possible he didn’t. The entire fight took less than a minute.

“Alan!” The struggle in that call indicated Scott was trying to get up again, and Alan grabbed their baldrics and rushed to his brother’s side before he could injure himself further.

“Stay still, Scott.” Alan said, placing a hand on his brother’s chest. Scott’s eyes were getting foggy from the bloodloss, and the fight seemed to drain out of him once Alan appeared in front of him. 

“Are you okay, Allie?”  

Alan almost laughed at the obscurity of that question from the one who’d been shot, but at the same time, the predictability of it was oddly comforting. “That guy never touched me, Scotty.” A glance at Scott’s leg wound had Alan grimacing and he set to work treating it, thankful their med kits were still intact. 

“How did you-?” Scott started, but broke off with a hiss as pain shot up his leg. 

“Sorry,” Alan murmured, before finishing Scott’s thought. “Take down the guy?”  The corner of his mouth tilted up, but the expression was edged in too much steel to be called a smile. “How do you think?”

It was the obvious Scott had never considered. “Kayo. Thank God for her.” 

“Yeah.” Alan said softly. 

Scott’s eyes wandered away from Alan to the man he’d subdued, still slumped near the wall.

His baby brother had done that. Had faced that.

Scott’s heart squeezed, and he wasn’t sure if it was pride or terror. 

Alan packed the wound and delivered pain meds, but besides that there wasn’t much he could do. He pulled off his bloodied gloves, glad he was done but at a loss of what to do with his hands. 

They shook when Alan stopped moving them. His whole body buzzed with energy he hadn’t used, like thunder rolling through him, felt but unseen. Alan wondered if he were to look in a mirror if he’d find that his eyes contained a storm like Scott’s did.

A glance at his brother found that those eyes had fallen closed. 

“Wake up, Scott,” Alan said urgently, tapping against the side of his face until blue peered up at him, hazy but there.  “You can’t go to sleep”

“Wasn’t asleep,” Scott said, his words beginning to slide into each other.

“Well, you’ve gotta stay that way until the others get here.” They’d been radio silent for way too long, John must have sent Virgil and Gordon by now. Hopefully they wouldn’t have to wait too long. Alan had done his best, but really Scott needed Virgil.

Alan sighed, looking down at Scott’s face, pale and grimacing. He was obviously still feeling the pain despite the meds. He didn’t complain though.

“Here, Scott,” Alan said, gently lifting Scott’s head and settling it in his lap, figuring he was more comfortable than the linoleum. Alan spoke softly to keep him awake, and began to run his fingers through Scott’s hair, like Scott had done to him countless times. His big brother didn’t protest, and though Alan wasn’t sure whether that was a good or bad thing, he was happy to keep his hands moving.

Minutes passed before the hall began to rumble and Alan’s first fear was an earthquake, but then found he recognized the cadence of the reverb.  

“It’s Two.”

`*`

Late that night, Alan crept into the infirmary with a blanket over his shoulders. He bypassed the bed where Virgil was snoring away. He’d spent the night there to keep an eye on Scott  for his own piece of mind. Alan understood that reasoning well.

Scott was sitting up in his own bed, facing the window and the tropical night outside. Alan didn’t make a sound, he was sure, but Scott seemed to sense him anyway and turned to face him.

Blue met blue and Alan gave a deep sigh, allowing the tension winding up his muscles to fall away. 

It was okay.

Clear skies.

[softspideys]

The Favorite (Peter Parker x Stark!reader)

summary: you’re convinced your dad likes peter parker more than you, until he saves your life

warnings: none

word count: 3.6k

pairings: peter parker x stark!reader

a/n: the idea for this came from an anonymous request, thanks for sending it in! I appreciate y’all being patient with me and I hope you enjoy :)

Most people thought that being Tony Stark’s daughter meant you had the love and respect of all the Avengers. And in a way, you did. You knew they cared about you and would do anything for you. But it also meant that you had to work twice as hard to prove that you could keep up with them, that you weren’t there just because you were his blood.

Tony loved to push you, to make you take on situations that you weren’t comfortable with. You never thought he’d ever put you through something you couldn’t handle, but clearly you were wrong. After all, he’d sent you on a solo mission with Peter Parker.

There wasn’t much to say about the kid, except that you hated him and could never seem to get rid of him. For some reason, Tony and Steve seemed to find great pleasure in constantly pairing the two of you together. While it was true that you and Peter worked well in a fight, that was only if you managed to stop arguing long enough to focus.

If you really sat down and thought about it, you might conclude that the real reason behind your dislike of Peter was jealousy. Based on what little information you had about Howard Stark, he had missed being the perfect dad by a long shot. Tony was nothing like him, but he wasn’t exactly your best friend either. If you were going to take over Stark Industries one day, you needed some tough love whether you liked it or not. Tony’s praise had to be earned, and you never could seem to do it.

But with Peter, he was all affection and smiles and jokes. Steve always said it was because Peter needed a stable father figure in his life right now and you didn’t, but that didn’t make it hurt any less whenever you came downstairs for dinner and saw they’d eaten without you, washing dishes side-by-side at the sink.

You suspected they put you together so often in the hopes that you’d eventually find some way to get along, but you had little faith in that ever happening. As long as your father continued to favor him over you, you’d never stop seeing him as the enemy.

Now, the two of you lay on your stomachs, surveying the computer room of some massive army base in the middle of nowhere. This mission was, as Tony put it, a “milk run,” meaning all you had to do was get in, get the intel, and then get out. No one was supposed to get hurt.

“Alright,” Peter said after about an hour of surveillance had passed. “I’m going in, watch my six.”

“Why do you get to go in first?” you demanded.

He had his mask on, but you could still practically see him rolling his eyes. “Because I can sense when danger is coming?”

“Didn’t seem to sense it yesterday when the TV remote hit you in the face,” you muttered, fondly remembering how satisfying it had been to be the one to throw it at him.

“That was because—fine, you know what? You go ahead. I don’t care. We’re wasting time.”

Smirking, you undid the latch to a small window on the roof, squeezing through the space and dropping to the ground silently, the way Natasha had trained you to do. Peter crept in after you, clinging to the ceiling like the spider-boy he was.

You moved through the darkened hallways of the base, stopping every few feet to listen for the sound of voices or footsteps. In hushed whispers, you argued about where to go.

“We’re supposed to turn left here.”

“No, that was at the last turn. Here it’s right.”

“I’m literally looking at the map right now, I think I know where we’re supposed to go.”

“Oh yeah? Well maybe you should get your eyes checked, because I can see the room from here, and it’s to the right.”

Peter said nothing for a second before the eyes on his mask narrowed in what was no doubt a scowl. “You’re the worst,” he muttered as you smugly led the way into the room. You checked the hallway, making sure no one had seen you enter, before quietly closing the door and locking it. You turned and saw Peter already booting up the main computer, lifting up his mask so he could see better.

“What are you doing?” you demanded, hurrying over and trying to nudge him out of the way. “You’re going to lock us out of the system.”

“Shut up, I know what I’m doing.”

“No you don’t, let me do it.”

“How many times have you practiced this again?”

“Way more than you, I bet.”

“You really think you’re so much better and smarter than me.”

“Probably because I am.” This argument was heading into dangerous territory, you could tell. It wasn’t like the usual light, jabbing ones you normally had. These words were laden with spikes.

“Just because your dad is Tony Stark doesn’t mean you’re anything like him,” Peter hissed.

“At least I have a dad,” you shot back.

As soon as the words left your mouth you knew you’d gone too far. Peter’s face instantly dropped, his normally warm brown eyes going cold and dark. His mouth flattened into a thin line and for a second, he just looked at you. “I didn’t mean—” you started to say, knowing it was useless.

You waited for him to yell back, to say something even crueler, but all he said was, “If you’re done, I’d like to get this over with.” He turned back to the computer and resumed typing.

“Peter,” you said weakly. “That was—”

“Save it.”

You stepped forward, laying a hand on his arm. “No, I shouldn’t have—”

“I said save it!” Peter said louder, shoving you off of him. The force of his super strength sent you stumbling back into the wall, landing in a pile of chairs and computer equipment with a loud, echoing CRASH.

The two of you froze, listening as the sound of doors opening and heavy footsteps filled the hallway. Peter stared at you, horrified. You weren’t sure if it was because he’d pushed you or because he’d just landed you both into some deep shit. “Keep going,” you said finally, gesturing him to finish what he was doing. “I’ll hold them off.”

“You can’t do it on your own, you don’t even have superpowers,” he said, shaking his head. “Switch with me.”

“There’s no time!” you said as the doorknob jiggled. “I don’t know where you are in the code. Just hurry up so we can get out of here.”

The door strained against its hinges as whoever was outside tried to get in. Peter let out a breath and nodded, pulling his mask down and turning back to the computer, typing frantically.

THUD. The door finally swung open and banged against the wall as several armed guards rushed in, yelling in some language you didn’t understand. You took a deep breath, squared your shoulders, and charged them.

You managed to keep all of them focused on you for a while while Peter worked. It was easy enough at first: you caught the wrist of one guard as he threw a punch, twisting it hard and ramming your elbow into his back when he bent over in pain.

Before he could fall to the ground, you caught him by the neck and slammed his face into a nearby desk, effectively breaking his nose and knocking him out.

Another guard grabbed you from behind while his companion rushed at you. You held onto the arms of the one holding you, swinging your legs up and planting your feet on the other man’s chest, kicking him clear across the room. The momentum of the kick sent you and first guard flying backwards, and he crashed into the wall hard, his grip on you loosening.  

Shaking free as he slumped to the floor, you didn’t pause to catch your breath, charging right back into the fray. You ducked and rolled between the legs of the man running at you, popping up and roundhouse kicking him as he turned to face you. He hit the ground and you smiled with grim satisfaction. That had to be a new record.

But the sound of a small click made you stop dead in your tracks. A quick glance around the room told you exactly what was going on: three of the guards were down, but four had entered the room. One of them must’ve gotten up without you noticing. Your stomach plummeted. Slowly, you turned around, expecting to be looking down the barrel of a gun.

But it wasn’t you the fourth guard had his pistol pointed at. It was Peter. Peter, who was too busy trying to gather your intel to pay attention to his spider-sense, who trusted that you would hold the guards off for him.  

As the man squeezed the trigger, all you could think about was your father. What would Tony do if he lost Peter? What would Tony do if he found out you could’ve prevented it, could’ve saved him?

You did the only thing your brain was telling you: you dove forward and knocked Peter out of the way. Pain exploded in your side as the bullet entered it, and then you were hitting the floor hard. You couldn’t help the loud cry that escaped your lips.

“No!” Peter screamed. His voice was awful: raw and hysterical and full of pure rage. You closed your eyes as the guard let out an ugly laugh that was abruptly cut off by the thwip of Peter’s web. You were vaguely aware of the sounds of fighting going on around you: grunts and thuds and loud crashing, but it was like you were a thousand miles away from all of it.

The next thing you knew, the room was silent. You slowly opened your eyes and saw Peter hovering over you, his mask pulled up so you could see his face. “You’re alive,” he said quietly, exhaling with relief. “I thought—” He stopped himself before starting again. “M’gonna get you out of here, okay?”

You blinked up at him, taking in his bloody nose and the bruise under his eye. “You got hurt.”

He choked out a laugh, shaking his head. “Me? I’m fine. I’ll be fine. It’s you we gotta worry about.” He swallowed. “Why did you take that bullet? Why would you be so stupid?”

“Tony,” you answered simply. “He needs you. More than me.”

“That’s not true,” Peter said fiercely. “He loves you. You’re his daughter. Did you really think he wouldn’t care if you died?”

You tried to shrug, taking in a sharp breath at the pain. It seemed to start in your side and then spread from there, touching every part of your body. “Okay,” Peter said, taking your hand and squeezing it. “We’re gonna fight about this later, I promise. But right now I gotta get you home.”

Taking a deep breath, he pulled his mask back on. “Karen, how do I get out of here?” he asked. You didn’t know who that was, but a second later he was speaking to you again. “I’m gonna carry you, okay? Do you trust me?”

You nodded, allowing him to gingerly scoop you up in his arms. He lifted you like you weighed nothing, tucking you firmly against him. He shot a web and soon you were swinging through the air.

You knew he was trying not to jostle you too much, but every time you moved it was like someone was sticking a hot knife just under your ribs. “Peter,” you whimpered, closing your eyes. “It hurts.” Your hands and clothes were both sticky and covered with blood, and it was getting harder to stay awake.

“I know, baby,” Peter whispered. His voice sounded different, so sweet and gentle. You’d never heard him speak that way to you before. “We’re almost there. Just stay with me.”

All you wanted to do was sleep, but there was something you had to say first. “I’m sorry for what I said before. I didn’t mean it.”

“I know you didn’t. It’s okay.”

“It’s not.” You sniffled, a few stray tears slipping past your closed lids. “I wish we weren’t mean to each other all the time.”

“I wish that too.”

“I just want my dad.” Your thoughts drifted to Tony again: how he would press his cool hand to your forehead whenever you had a fever and kiss your scrapes when you fell down as a kid. But what could he do to fix this?

“I’m gonna get you to him, I promise. But you have to stay, alright? You can’t leave me. Please don’t leave me.” You weren’t sure, but it sounded like he might be crying too.

“I won’t,” you said, but you could already feel yourself slipping away.

* * *

The first thing you noticed when you woke up was that you were in your own bed at home. The second was the various machines hooked up to you, their monotonous beeping the only noise filling the room. The third was your father, fast asleep in a chair next to you.

Your body was achy and stiff and your throat was like sandpaper, but hey, you were alive. Not bad. Slowly, the memories came rushing back: the failed mission, getting shot, Peter holding you close as he carried you out of the building.

“Dad,” you whispered. He didn’t move, so you tried again. “Dad.” Your voice was rough, but it worked: Tony’s chin jerked forward and he woke with a jolt, blinking a few times. You thought you saw something pass over his face for a second as he looked at you, but it may have been a shadow.

“Oh, you’re awake. That’s good. How do you feel?” He handed you a glass of water from your nightstand and you drank it gratefully.

“Like shit.”

“Yeah, well, that’s what happens when you get shot,” he said briskly. “So let’s agree to never do that again, alright?”

You nodded mutely, wishing the floor would swallow you whole. Getting lectured by any of the adults was terrible, but your dad’s scoldings were by far the worst.

“Good,” Tony said. “Parker managed to grab the intel, so the mission wasn’t a total bust. But I want you on bed rest until you’re completely healed, understand? That was a close call. Too close.”

“Okay,” you mumbled. You expected him to leave after that, but instead he stayed, just looking at you. You weren’t sure what he was going to do or say next, so you just waited.

Finally, in a low voice, he asked, “Why’d you do it?”

“What?” There was no use trying to play dumb, but you did it anyway.

“You know Parker heals fast. He would’ve been down for a day or two at most if he took that bullet. But he said you pushed him out of the way and got hit instead.”

Of course Peter snitched and told Tony everything. You exhaled, wincing at the pain in your side. “I don’t know. I just didn’t want him to get hurt.”

Tony raised his eyebrows and you looked away quickly, fidgeting with the bedsheet. “Well, would you look at that,” he said quietly, a tiny smirk playing on his lips.

“Shut up.”

“Was that all it was?” he asked. He’d always been good at coaxing the truth out of you.

You didn’t answer for a second. “I know it’s stupid, but you guys just spend so much time together and you care about him so much . . .  I guess I just thought you’d rather have him.”

The expression on your father’s face was unreadable. Then, to your surprise, he leaned forward and hugged you tightly, squeezing the breath out of you. “Dad,” you gasped. “That kinda hurts a lot.”

He loosened his grip, but didn’t release you. “Parker’s a good kid,” he muttered. “But you’re my daughter. There’s no one in this world I love more than you. Okay?”

You smiled into his shoulder, trying to swallow the lump in your throat. “Okay.”

“Good. And just for the record, if you ever pull something like that again I’ll ground you until you’re 40.” He kissed the top of your head before rising from the chair. “There’s someone else who wants to see you.”

You watched him leave in confusion, wondering who he could possibly be talking about. Maybe Steve or Natasha? You’d always been close with both of them. Or maybe Bucky; you were still holding out hope that the former assassin was starting to warm up to you.

But it wasn’t any of them. It was Peter.

You felt inexplicably nervous when he walked in; after all, the last time you were together, he’d carried your injured, unconscious body out of a building. But he smiled when he saw you, and it occurred to you that he’d never smiled at you before.

“Hey,” he said, sitting cautiously in Tony’s empty chair. “How are you feeling?”

“Sore,” you said. “Could be worse, though.”

“Yeah, for sure,” he agreed. “I’m, uh, glad you’re . . . you know. Okay.”

“Me too.” You hesitated. “How are you?” It was a dumb question. He looked like shit: dark circles under his eyes, messy hair, rumpled clothes. Was it really because of you?

He shrugged. “Yeah, I’m alright. Just been worried.”

“About me? Seriously?” you blurted out, still in disbelief.

He gave you a funny look. “Uh, yeah. Why is that so surprising?”

“It’s not. I just didn’t know you cared.”

Peter rolled his eyes, shaking his head. He looked normal again, annoyed at you like always. “Are you kidding me? You literally got shot, which was so stupid of you, by the way.”

“Oh, okay, I guess next time I have to save your life I just won’t,” you retorted. Jerk. Whatever butterflies you felt when you originally saw him had now vanished. Mostly.

“Save my life? Please. I would’ve been fine. But instead you decided to be an idiot and jump in front of me like we’re in some dumb action movie and freak everyone out.”

“Are you really gonna lecture me right now?” you said tiredly, ignoring how cute he looked when he was indignant, eyes bright and nose scrunched up.

“Yes!” he said heatedly. “Of course I’m gonna fucking lecture you; I had to sit there and watch you nearly bleed out! Do you have any idea how scared I was that you were going to die in my arms? Do you have any idea what that would do to me? No, you don’t, because you’re selfish and annoying and you—”

“Peter,” you said abruptly. “Shut up.”

He bristled. “Excuse me?”

“I said,” you repeated, leaning forward and putting your hand on the back of his neck, “shut up.” Peter opened his mouth, either to argue further or to ask what you were doing, but you silenced him by pressing your lips against his.

You really had no idea what possessed you to do that. For some reason, watching Peter yell at you made something in your brain click, and you thought oh. The next thing you knew, you were kissing.

While it clearly surprised him at first, Peter eventually kissed you back, his hands flying up to cup your face. You wondered why you hadn’t thought to do this sooner, why you spent so much time fighting when it could’ve been put to better use.

Eventually, though, the pain in your side was becoming unbearable, and you had no choice but to pull away from him and lean back. “Sorry,” you said, a little embarrassed. “Just . . . gunshot wound and all.”

His eyes widened. “Shit, that’s right. Are you okay? I forgot.”

“I’m fine,” you said quickly. “And it was worth it to do that.” You smiled and he returned it, his cheeks tinted a light shade of pink.

“I guess you did say you wished we could do something other than fight.”

“I did say that, huh?” You chuckled. “Well, this seems like a pretty good start.”

“Yeah,” Peter agreed. He hesitated, looking down at his lap. “And, uh, I know I hog your dad a lot, but . . . I was thinking that maybe we could hang out sometime too? Just me and you?”

“Oh,” you said, suddenly feeling a little shy. “Yeah, definitely. Um, what did you have in mind?”

He shrugged. “Maybe once you’re feeling better I could take you out for dinner? I just got my license and May won’t mind me borrowing her car for the night . . . but only if you want to,” he added hastily.

You couldn’t believe how silly you felt, with butterflies in your stomach like a little kid with a crush. “Dinner sounds really, really great.” You paused. “But right now . . . can you just stay? With me?”

Peter stared at you for a second before he nodded, a small but relieved smile on his face. “Of course I’ll stay. As long as you want.”

You swallowed, avoiding his eyes. “And I, uh, never got to thank you. For saving me. So . . . thank you.”

He shrugged, bringing your hand up to kiss your knuckles. “You’re the one who saved me. I just carried you out.”

When Tony came back half an hour later to make sure you hadn’t killed each other, he was only mildly surprised to find the two of you fast asleep in your bed, Peter carefully curled around you. He pulled out his phone and took a picture, sending it to Steve with only a few words as his caption:

Told you they’d figure it out

[kingofdirtandnothing]

@polyfacetious big ass Christmas Drabble Extravagaza: Day Twenty

“Did you know that there’s not any real appreciable difference between salt water taffy and regular taffy?” The guy in the nice suit browsing the bins of taffy looks up at Barry, cocking a brow at him. He’s been in the store for a couple of minutes now, and after a brief ‘hi, how are you’ exchange, Barry had said nothing else. Until now.

“So salt water taffy was invented in 1883 in Atlantic City, on the boardwalk. It was invented by this guy named David Bradley, I think that’s what his name is. And anyway, so he had a taffy shop out on the boardwalk. Because, tourists.”

Barry gestures around himself, to the small shop and its pristine white walls and white tile floors, to the barrels holding the candy all made of rich, dark wood. The only real pops of color in the place were the pieces of candy themselves, almost pastel behind their white wrapping paper. 

This whole street was a tourist attraction. A collection of immigrants who set up shop here right next to each other, selling a little bit of everything. Barry had seen the article about it in some tourist magazine, solely because Diego had it framed and on the wall in the front of his shop. 

And Diego’s tacos were definitely worth waiting in line for. So Barry waited like everyone else, and it meant he had plenty of time to do things like read the article that was framed on the wall that talked about ‘found family’ and ‘eclectic tastes’. Barry was pretty sure that last little bit was because of Klaus, but he wasn’t sure.

“So. Atlantic City, right? Right off the water on the pier, big ferris wheel, super cool place, even back then. But it flooded.” Barry stops, cocking his head. “I don’t think the ferris wheel was there in the 1880s.” But he can’t look right now, because he’s pulling taffy. 

That was the allure of the place. All of the taffy was hand pulled. No machines here. Barry did all the pulling, cutting and wrapping. Super boring work, but it gave him time to think when it wasn’t busy, and his biceps looked pretty sweet. 

Even right now, he’s grateful that his work t-shirt is a little tight around the sleeves as he takes the long strand of shiny white taffy and folds it back over the hook on the wall. From there, he pulls it down towards him again, lengthening the strand before he folds it back over the hook again. 

“I look it up later. Anyway. Atlantic City.” This story was all over the place, but the guy in his probably expensive and very nicely cut suit, wow he looked good, he was just watching Barry with his arms crossed, expression amused. “It flooded. Soaked the guy’s entire stock of candy. Once everything dried out, he took a bite of it on a whim.”

Barry glances over his shoulder and grins at the guy. Looks like the taffy wasn’t the only one on the hook today. “Said it tasted pretty good. So from then on, he sold it as salt water taffy. Made it tourist-y.”

He takes the white taffy from the hook and slaps it down onto the marble slab he’d cut it on. But first, he needed to roll it into something like a log. Barry always liked the way the taffy looked at this stage, with its bright sheen and its pliable nature. Like solid snow, or something. 

“But the thing is when you’re making taffy, when you’re making any kind of candy really, you’re going to boil the water with the sugar to get your base. And when you boil the water, it takes the salt right out of it. Seriously, it’ll crust the bottom of the big brass pot we use. I have to scrape it out sometimes.”

Barry folds the taffy in on itself like a big, soft pretzel and gives it a squeeze. He was going to need to punch it out a little before it would be ready to be cut. 

“So salt water taffy doesn’t actually taste any different than regular taffy. It’s just-”

“Tourists.” The guy answers, his voice low and rough, like sandpaper at the bottom of the well. “Do you tell all your customers about the history of ripping off tourists, or am I just special?” The smile, which really couldn’t be called a smile, tugs at just one corner of the guy’s lips. 

“I’m bored.” Barry grins right back at him. “But if you need someone to tell you that you’re special, I’ll be your man.” 

That earns him a small huff of laughter, and Barry finds himself proud of the sound. Yeah, he did that. “Oliver.” The guy, Oliver, holds a hand out to shake over the top of the glass separating the open part of the shop from Barry’s work area. 

“Barry.” He peels the glove off of his hand and tosses it into the trash can he keeps beneath the counter before he shakes Oliver’s hand. “It’s nice to meet you, Oliver.” Oliver has nice, strong hands. Callused, too. Not what Barry would expect from a guy wearing a suit that looked like it cost more than what Barry made in a month. “You read the article, huh?”

There’s a split second that Oliver looks sheepish before he settles into the conversation. “You guys get that much foot traffic in here from the New Yorker article?” Wow. Diego just had the article up, not the rest of the magazine. Barry didn’t know it was such a high end magazine that spoke so highly of their little street. Maybe that’s why they were getting so many people browsing up and down the street.

“Yeah.” It’s Barry’s turn to huff out a laugh, pulling a fresh glove out of the box and slipping it on before he gets back to the roll of taffy in front of him, punching it down before he rolls it out again into a little shiny log. “They tend to hit all the ‘greatest hits’, that’s what Tony calls them. The places in the article. But it works out for the other spots, like the book store, because then the tourists think that they’ve found some great hole in the wall that a reporter didn’t even find.”

Oliver glances down at the briefcase sitting at his feet, emblazoned with his initials and gleaming in the afternoon sun. “Guilty as charged.”

The taffy is a nice, long log now. Ready to be cut. Barry grabs the rounded cutter and starts on the far edge, his cuts swift and precise, a long practiced movement. As close to muscle memory as a person could get with something sharp in their hands.

Or at least as close as Barry Allen could get with a knife in his hand. Because the tip of his left thumb would beg to differ. 

It was fine, they sewed it right back on. It wasn’t really that big of a deal anyway. Though Felicity didn’t think it was funny when Barry suggested that the next big thing would be blood taffy. No one ever tapped into the goth market with candy.

“That’s cool, though. You came because of the article but you still adventured outside of your routine and maybe your comfort zone. I’d be proud of that if I were you.” Also, if Barry were Oliver he’d probably never wear a shirt and spend the rest of his life looking at himself in front of a mirror, Narcissus style. 

“Has anyone ever told you that you’re too nice?” Oliver reaches up to adjust the knot of his tie and Barry’s thumb almost makes a repeat performance. Luckily, it’s just a really thin piece of taffy and not a piece of thumb that rolls across the cool marble. 

“Oh yeah.” Barry laughs, and gives up on cutting anything else while Oliver was still here. He could go ahead and get these pieces wrapped and ready to do, and then no one was at risk of a bloodbath. “All the time. Felicity, she’s the other owner of this place, we split it fifty-fifty, she always tells me that I’m too nice for my own good.”

Then again, Barry thought Fels was way too nice for her own good. But he was too nice to say something about it, so maybe she had a leg up on him. 

“Doesn’t it bother you? Knowing that people might take advantage of you? Or scam you? Or hurt you?”

Barry is pretty sure this isn’t the kind of conversation you have with the guy who runs the taffy shop on your vacation if you have anyone else to talk to. That makes it all the more important that Barry listens. “Well yeah. No one wants to be hurt. But I think about it like this. If I keep the windows closed all the time because I’m worried about rain, then I miss out on all the good breezes I could get, too.”

It’s a weird, mixed metaphor but it seems to sink in, because Oliver is watching him very closely, and with something like respect in his eyes. Nailed it. 

Barry shrugs and reaches across the space between them, holding his hand out to Oliver, palm up. In it, a single wrapped piece of white salt water taffy, rolled up neatly in wax paper, the ends twisted inwards and fanning out, like the candy you would see in a cartoon. “Here, have a free sample.”

He had a bad habit about free samples. Barry just couldn’t help it, he liked seeing kids light up and laugh when they had their first bite. And it’s no different watching Oliver carefully unwrap the piece and pop it into his mouth, his eyes widening briefly in surprise. 

“I know, right?” Barry shifts eagerly from foot to foot, and gives in, popping that thin, misshapen piece from the end of the roll into his mouth. Taffy wasn’t complicated, when it came to ingredients. It was just a few things, and most everyone had them at home. It was the process that made something special out of the ingredients. “You’d think I’d be sick of this stuff, being around it all day. But I’m really not. I love it.”

‘It’ meant more than just the candy. It meant the shop, the street, the crazy dream that he and Felicity jetted off to follow right out of college. Barry’s life was kind of crazy and he wouldn’t trade that for anything. 

“I can see that.” Oliver doesn’t speak until he finishes chewing and swallowing his piece of candy, unlike Barry who had no problem speaking behind his hand with his mouth full. Oliver takes the candy wrapper and smooths it out flat in his palm before he places it on the top of the glass case, sliding it back towards Barry with the tip of his index finger. “And I’d like to see you again.”

Wow. That was smooth as hell. Barry needs a second to parse the fact that the very attractive businessman was looking at him like that. Like Barry was another piece of candy that he wanted to unwrap. “Barry.” Oliver’s voice cuts through all those wild, tumbling thoughts. “I want you to write your number on here.” Oliver taps the piece of wrapper.

“Oh!” Yeah, Barry was not picking up on that. He laughs nervously, ducking behind the counter and nearly braining himself on the glass before he’s able to find a permanent marker on a low shelf. Barry scribbles his name across the square, and his phone number underneath it. 

Even if Oliver changed his mind and never called, even if Barry never saw him again, this whole afternoon would be worth it to see Felicity’s face when he told her the story about getting hit on by the suave businessman in the middle of the afternoon on a Monday. 

Definitely worth it.

[that-wimpy-cowboy-doll]

The Story of Her Name

Happy Valentine’s Day @shallow-gravy​ !  I was your @rdrsecretcupid2020 :)  Hope you enjoy <3 <3 <3

Pairing: Arthur x Female Reader (no use of Y/N)

Warnings: very mild violence

Word Count: 2092

Summary: On a dark and stormy night, Arthur tells his girls his story of the man who helped them be a family.

O’Creagh’s Run, Grizzlies East

April 1907

Thunder cracks overhead, violently punctuating the rolling waves of water that drop from the sky and hit the roof of your home in fat droplets.  The stove in your living room comes alive with fire and light, and your home is warm with love.  You snuggle closer into your husband’s bare chest, threading your fingers through the fine golden hairs there.  It’s late, but in spite of how heavy your body feels, sinking into the mattress, you can’t will your eyelids shut.  Arthur smiles into your hair, letting his hand run languidly up and down your back.

“What you thinkin’ about?”

“Mm...I think we oughta take another trip soon, the three of us.  Take Claire up the mountains or...to the bayou or something.  Maybe out east, show her the ocean somewhere.”

Another bolt of thunder cracks, and this time you jump a little, eliciting a small chuckle from deep in Arthur’s belly.  He trails his hand up to your shoulder to move away a few strands of your hair.  In the room next to you, you hear your daughter stirring, and then the pitter-patter of six-year-old feet scurrying to the door.

“Watch out,” Arthur rumbles - you can hear the smile in his voice.  The feet turn the corner, and your door scrapes open, like it always does, a little brown head of hair peeking curiously around it.

“Mama?”  She’s still wrapped up in her blanket, her wide blue eyes, her father’s eyes, blinking up at them from across the room.  “Papa, I’m scared.”

“Come here, baby.”  Arthur opens up the blanket, and you make room for her, smiling as she piles into the small space between you.  “That big bad thunder wake you up?”

“Uh-huh.”  She’s taken to sucking her thumb again, a habit she only falls into scared or half-asleep.  Right now she looks both.  “Papa, can you tell me a story?”

“A story,” he repeats, smiling tenderly as she snuggles up under his arm.  “Well, I ain’t much of tellin’ stories these days.  We used to leave that up to your Grandpa Hosea.”  He flashes you a knowing but solemn smile, before turning his attention back to Claire.   “What story you wanna hear?  The one ‘bout the crazy brothers, who rode barrels down a waterfall for the lady?  Or the one about how your daddy wrangled zoo animals?”

She pulls her thumb out of her mouth long enough to reach for your hand, and soggy as it is, you take her little mitt in yours.  Her little gap-toothed smile shines in the moonlight filtered through the window, and when the heavy rainclouds roll over the moon again, she pulls you closer to nuzzle in between you and her father.

“I wanna hear the one about my name.”

“Uh-oh,” you say softly and wink at Arthur.  “I think you forgot something, little miss.”

“Pleeeeease,” she sings.

“What do you say, Papa?”  You run your finger up the shell of his ear, settling your hand in his hair.  “The story of how Miss Claire came to be Miss Claire?”

He stretches out his muscles and gathers his family close, kissing each of his girls on the head before he gets started.

One time, a long time ago, your daddy and your Uncle John was makin’ all sorts of trouble in a big city called Saint Denis, where you’d see people and animals of all shapes and sizes. Daddy decided to go away for a little while, and hunt him some deer up near the mountains.  He found his way up to the lake, but somethin’ was odd.

He heard a man huffin’ and gruntin’ and callin’ out a name.  “Buell,” the man said, “Buell, you stubborn son of a - ”

“Papa,” you say threateningly, and he catches himself, throwing you an embarrassed smile.

“Sorry.”

Well, eventually, your papa slowed his horse down, and there next to a boulder, there was an old man with a funny hat and a missing leg.  And he said, “Mister, you got a second to help an old man?”

So I slowed on down, and I tied my horse to a tree, told her to stay.  “What happened to you?” I said.

“Durn horse threw me, and my leg still on him.  Reckon I saw him take off down toward the lake.  I’d be mighty grateful if you fetched him for me, Mister.”

Now, your daddy didn’t much want to chase down an ornery horse that day.  It wouldn’t be the first time he said no to someone in need, or acted mean to somebody didn’t deserve actin’ mean to.  But this man had a kind face and a kind soul, grizzled as he was, and I couldn’t very well say no.

So I said, “sure.”  And I headed down the hill.

He was right.  His horse was by the lake, wooden leg hangin’ off the saddle, and he was a fine horse.  Big and gold and strong, with blue eyes that was watery, and smart.  He neighed at me, lifting his hooves off the ground, saying, “no, sir, you don’t come no closer.”  

And I lifted up my hands, show him I weren’t no trouble.  I said, “hey, boy, you’re alright.  Whoa, boy.”  And I got closer.  He started to calm down, real slow-like, and finally let your pa put his hands on the horse’s mane.  I patted him, real gentle, and led him on back to the feller sittin’ up against the rock.

The feller was mighty kind about getting his horse and his leg back, and he didn’t have no money to pay your daddy, but he said, “anytime you feel like hunting some, come on by and I’ll be happy to hunt with you.”  And he shook my hand and headed on home.

“Did you go hunting with him again, Papa?”  Claire asks feebly, her soft blue eyes already growing lidded and tired.  Arthur threads her hair through his fingers, gently scratching on her scalp.

“I sure did, baby.  He was a crazy old feller, that gentleman.  He’d fought in the war, but seemed every time your papa met him, he was picking fights with a bigger and meaner creature than the last.”

First, he took your papa fishing for the Tyrant, a great big pike in the lake who darn near dragged the veteran and your daddy out of their boat before he’d be caught.

Claire’s gaze floats lazily upward, to the large fish mounted above your wedding photo, its mouth open and its eyes fixed wide ahead of it.  Her small elbow bumps into your side, and she points to it.  You nod gently, stroking her hair and pretending it’s not just to tangle your fingers with Arthur’s.

Then, we set out to find a great white wolf who lived up in the mountains.  She was a smart wolf, led the old feller and me up the mountain to where she’d caught and ate a deer.  And then, just when we thought we was on her scent, she set her friends on us to try and eat us, too.  So the veteran and I fired a few shots at her friends, and when they was all gone, she jumped right on me, ready to eat me alive.

We shot her then, so that your daddy could come home to you with all his arms and legs still on him.

The last time I saw the man, there was a boar - a great big angry pig with tusks - runnin’ wild, terrorizing the animals around his home.  So we set off to hunt him, too.  We was getting close, up in the mountains again, and the old man said we should split up, try and catch him separately.

Well, when I was trackin’ the boar up in the bushes, trying to catch his trail - when animals and people walk through the dirt, we leave footprints.  Papa was trying to see if the footprints in the dirt had come from the boar, and how long ago the animal had been there.  I was trying to catch his trail, and then I heard a couple of shots not too far off.  Where the old feller would’ve been.

I run down, see if he’d caught the big…

He looks at you, and you can see the gears turning in his head to figure out the right word, one that won’t earn him a dirty look or a gentle smack to the shoulder.  You feel a grin tugging the corners of your lips.

“Creature?”

He nods enthusiastically, and then sets his brow again, all too serious.  You knew what Hamish had meant for Arthur - a new start.  And this was what he’d done with it.

I wanted to see if he’d caught the big creature.  But the boar had got him with one of his tusks, the old man, and he was layin’ down, trying to breathe, and the boar charged on him again, only this time, I was ready for him.  I got the big beast, one bullet right between them beady little eyes.

He imitates the sound a bullet makes leaving a barrel, and Claire’s eyes go wide, or as wide as they can go, her snuggling deeper into his chest, small hands fixed on his union suit.

The old man was dyin’.  He knew it.  He told me, “Arthur, take care of Buell for me.  He’s a good horse.”  I told him I would, and he died right in my arms.

He combs a hand back through the fine strands of her chestnut-colored hair, and while she looks about ready to fall asleep in his arms, she straightens up a little.  “And you took care of Buell, too, Papa.  The big horse you let me ride sometimes.”

“That’s right, baby.  Almost as old as that old man now, but I reckon he’s happy.”

“You forgot something, Papa,” she yawns, and doesn’t put up a fight when Arthur scoops her up to take her back to her own room.  “You forgot to tell me...how I got my name.”

“Well, that’s the best part of the story.  The old man, the one who thought your daddy saved him, the old man who really saved your daddy, his name was Hamish.  Hamish Sinclair.”  You follow them out the door, and down the small hallway to her bedroom, Arthur laying her out on her bed and tucking her in closely.  “When your momma and I saw you for the first time we said, ‘hm...she’s got strong eyes, like Buell.  And a strong heart, like Hamish.’  And we thought Sinclair sounded pretty good like ‘Miss Claire.’  And there you was.”  He smiles brightly, and presses a gentle kiss to her forehead.  “Goodnight, sweetheart.”

But she’s already asleep.

Arthur wraps his arms around your waist, guiding the pair of you back to your own bedroom.  You forget that the thunder has stopped and that the rain coming down on your roof now is just as gentle as his touch, just as fine as the nightgown clinging to your skin.  He kisses your cheek, your jaw, your lips, and smiles at you when you lie beside him, your thumb moving slowly over the stubble on his chin.

“We made a great girl,” he whispers, as if he can’t believe it.  You know, sometimes, that he doesn’t - that he doesn’t think he deserves the life you both have made out here.  He dreams sometimes that you and Claire disappear in the dead of night, and when he wakes up gasping and crying, you hold him until the sun peeks through the windows.

“We did,” you whisper back, toying with the top button of his sleeping suit.  “She loves you.  I love you.  And we ain’t goin’ nowhere.”

He closes his eyes and nuzzles up against your nose, the hand at your hip drawing oblong shapes into your own gown, then sneaking under to trace your skin.  You jump a little, feeling the desire flare up from your thighs to your belly.

“Mr. Morgan.”

“Mrs. Morgan,” he chuckles, kisses you again, and slides the hem of your gown up to your waist, his rough, calloused palm pulling you closer by the small of your back.  “I been thinkin’...I love having the three of us around, you, me, and her...but what if we made it four?”

You smile again, trailing your own hand down to his neck to pull him closer, to press your lips to his.  “You might be onto somethin’, cowboy.”

[emeraldwaves]

Title: In Which We Burn Together Angst Week Day 4 Pairing:  Todomomo Rating: M Word Count:  2,518 Read on Ao3 Summary:  

Todoroki Shouto has never believed in soulmates. Why should he? It didn’t work for his parents, so he doesn’t expect it to work for him, especially when he can’t even remember what his now burned off mark looks like.

Full fic under the cut! For @bnha-angst-week !! Day 4 Choice // Wish Thank you to @its-love-u-asshole for betaing! <3

Yaoyorozu cried after they completed their exam against Aizawa-sensei. Shouto wasn't really sure why since they both passed, but he didn't wish to judge her. By now he was aware she could get overwhelmed.

They made their way off the examination field, heading back towards the school. Shouto walked behind her, not wanting to bother her if she was internally processing things. Her plan had been amazing though.

"Mm..." he muttered, wondering why she was passing the credit to him when it had been her plan. "I think it was more thanks to you."

"A-Ah!" she waved her hands up and down quickly. "N-No! I think it was more thanks to you. If you hadn't believed in me-"

"How about we call it a team effort?" he said, cutting her off. That was part of the point of these team exams anyway.

She smiled, her eyes glistening again. "Yes," she said. "You're right. It was a team effort. But still... thank you for having faith in me."

Shouto stared at her, confused why she was thanking him for something that came so easily to him. "I always will," he said bluntly. He loved the way her cheeks grew redder at the compliment.

Shouto found he worked well with Yaoyorozu and more often than not, if they were able to pick their teams during any training, they would end up on the same team together.

During their first year, he often paired up with her for research projects or team battles, simply because he trusted her. Even when she had deep, internal anxieties about her abilities, Shouto knew she would pull through. He would watch Yaoyorozu slip her finger under her bracelet, running her finger against her skin. He never asked her what was underneath it, he never cared, which was something he knew she appreciated. He didn't know what was holding her back in her mind, but he knew she was stronger than it. She was an extremely capable woman, even if she didn't think so herself.

Either way, Shouto chose Yaoyorozu every time.

Their rather excitement filled first year was coming to an end soon, and Shouto silently hoped their second year would be quieter.

As the bell rang, marking the start of their vacation, he glanced towards Yaoyorozu, packing up her things. It would be strange, to not see her beside him everyday, and suddenly he was hit with an empty feeling. He would miss the way her cheeks flushed when he offered her any sort of compliment, even minor ones. He would miss the way she took notes with rigorous concentration and he would definitely miss the way she said good morning to him every day.

They would only be away for a little while, but still the idea of not seeing Yaoyorozu during the entirety of their break was... oddly disheartening.

"Yaoyorozu-san." Her name left his lips faster than he meant it to and she turned to stare, her dark ponytail swinging behind her, her black locks brushing against the back of her neck.

"Yes, Todoroki-san?" she asked. Her eyes were wide, eager, and interested in what it was he could possibly say. It was times like these she left him a little speechless, her cute enthusiastic energy too much for him to handle.

"Todoroki-san?" she repeated and Shouto almost jumped, pulled from his daze.

"Ah..." he muttered, realizing he didn't really know what to ask her even. "Would... you... over the break that is..." Why was it so hard to ask her this? Asking to train together was not a strange thing, not when they had been each other's choice partners for the majority of the school year.

She tilted her head, clutching two of her textbooks to her chest. Oh gosh that only made it worse. His eyes involuntarily glanced at her chest and he immediately snapped them back up to her face. He wasn't a pervert! Nothing like some of the boys in their class, but Yaoyorozu was pretty and intelligent, and amazing and admittedly, beautiful.

"What about the break?" she asked.

Right. He was asking her something. "Would you want to train together?"

Her eyes widened, shocked by the proposal. "Train with... you, Todoroki-san?"

"If you wanted to," he offered.

"Yes! I would love to! I-I mean I want to!" she smiled, looking a little flustered. "I'll text you my schedule for the break and we can find a time that works for us!"

Of course she had her break all planned out on a schedule.

As expected, she texted him almost immediately that night. He was impressed by the strict regimen she was sticking to. Even with school being on break, she set aside time to study, (mostly chemistry, for use of her quirk) and training of course. There was a part of him that wished to join her everyday, but he didn't wish to impose.

Instead, he picked a few times and sent them back, waiting for her to choose. She was quick to respond, setting their times into her schedule.

The next morning, he woke up to a text from her.

[Text from: Yaoyorozu Momo]: Good morning, Todoroki-san! I hope the first day of your break is both relaxing and productive!

A smile was quick to pull across his cheeks. He could hear it in her voice, could see her smile as she took her seat next to him. Yaoyorozu was so genuine and friendly. He'd never encountered someone like her. He didn't feel comfortable around most people, yet he enjoyed being around her. He liked it when she babbled on about something she was excited about, or when she didn't quite understand something and she thought about it extra hard in hopes of comprehending whatever confused her.

It was like his whole life he'd been waiting to meet someone like her... like a soulmate.

For the first time in his life, Shouto wished he knew his soulmark, and he wished, above all else, that Yaoyorozu Momo was his soulmate.

No.

He didn't believe in soulmates... and even if he did, Yaoyorozu was most likely not his. Though they were similar in many ways, they were also different, came from two different lifestyles. They both wanted to be heroes but...

No.

It was useless to think about, and he would never know if she was his soulmate unless they...

His face turned bright red and he turned over in his bed, burying his face in his pillow while willing the thoughts to go away. The last thing he needed was to think about how beautiful her lips looked sometimes, especially when she wore the shimmery gloss and-

No.

He pushed himself out of bed. He couldn't keep thinking about her like this. Eventually she would find her actual soulmate and then all of this wouldn't matter. It would honestly be easier for him if he was alone. He could focus on being a better hero and eventually passing his father.

For now, he was going to go for a run.

Yaoyorozu set the day for the them to train together a few days into the break, and Todoroki was silently dying. Even with their good morning texts, which she sent everyday, he missed seeing her cute smile and her cheerful eyes.

When had he started thinking about Yaoyorozu so much? Maybe after he saw her in the rain after the U.S.J. incident. Or maybe after the festival, when he showed her his burned soulmark... he had trusted her enough to do that... or maybe it was when they worked so well together it felt like he never wanted to partner with anyone else.

Is this what people called a crush? It was such a foreign, unfamiliar feeling.

Shouto hated himself for wondering what was underneath her small bracelet. With his burn and his inability to remember what his soulmark looked like, they wouldn't be able to tell if they were soulmates anyway, so he didn't know where these small tugs of caring came from. He would never ask her about it anyway; he wasn't rude like the rest of society.

When the day finally came to meet her, Shouto arrived at her house a little early. Knowing Yaoyorozu, she would be expecting him to be punctual. Her house was very large, as many of their classmates discussed before when she held study sessions at her place and Shouto had to buzz an intercom to get in.

"Todoroki-san! Good morning!" she said, meeting him at the front gate. "It's good to see you." She bowed politely and he did the same, though they were friends, with her everything was always on the formal side.

"It's good to see you too, Yaoyorozu-san," he said, unable to stop the small smile which pulled across his cheeks.

"Come!" she said. "Let me take you to our training room!" Unsurprising she would have one of those. His house had one too, though the memories in there were anything less than pleasant.

Her fingers wrapped around his hand as she led him to the room. It was a large square room, mostly white and completely empty. "It's proofed for quirk use, so please don't feel like you have to hold back your ice or fire. In fact, I would prefer you don't!" she said.

She slipped off her jacket and Shouto glanced away for a moment. The clothes weren't revealing, but the black tank top dipped far down her back, leaving space for her to produce whatever object she might needed.

"I wouldn't hold back," he said, leaving his bag outside the door as he followed her inside. He would never offend her like that.

"Good," she said and bowed to him again. "Should we begin?"

"Alright," he nodded, and took a stance.

He knew she would mostly likely wait for him to charge for her first, and knowing her she was probably calculating out his various moves in her head. She would assume he would use his ice first, as he often favored that side, but things were different now... he knew he could handle the fire... his fire.

He leaned towards his right side but was quick to ignite his left, sending a row of flames barrelling towards her.

Yaoyorozu was faster than that though. She dodged, pulling a shield from her back and a spear from her arm. She clutched the items tightly, panting from the heat, and he stomped his foot down, sliding across the floor on a path of ice he sent across the room. He shot more fire her way and she continued to dodge.

The problem was, she had a difficult time getting close to him as he moved around the room with ease. Even using a long range weapon, he was able to freeze a variety of objects she tossed his way.

Eventually she fell to her knee, panting heavily... the lipids in her body most likely running low. "Yaoyorozu-san, are you okay?" he asked.

"Mhm..." she nodded, though she looked slightly ashamed.

"You did excellent-"

"Todoroki-san! Can we train more tomorrow?!" she asked and Shouto blinked, surprised by her outburst.

"I'll train whenever you are free, Yaoyorozu-san."

Maybe it was pathetic, but any excuse he had to spend more time with her the better.

So he spent his break training with her. Every morning he got to hear her gentle voice and see her smiling face wish him a good morning. They would train together, until she grew too tired, having used her body too much. However, each day she improved more and more.

The sessions would last longer, tiring Shouto out and towards the end of summer break, they would spend hours going back and forth, her trying to get hits on him. She often did, even when he tried to deflect, she occasionally would make a break and knock Shouto to the floor. Yaoyorozu grew more and more impressive with everyday.

School was close to starting up again soon, and Shouto found as much as he thought he would miss seeing her everyday in school, he knew he would miss training privately with her even more.

He stood across from her on the penultimate day of their break, ready to challenge her. They usually waited to see who would make the first move, but this time, Yaoyorozu was quick to rush him. She pulled a spear from her arm, dashing towards him. Shouto aimed ice at her feet, but she jumped up to avoid it, and she spun the spear down, hitting against his arm as he collapsed to the floor, her spear and hand pinning him to the ground.

"Amazing..." he whispered, staring up at her, not bothering to move. He always knew she was incredible. He expected her to kick his ass one of these days, so it was unsurprising to find himself laying on his back, staring up into her dark eyes.

"A-Ah! Todoroki-san!" she breathed out, looking down. "Are you hurt?!" She held out her hand to him, her small bracelet sliding down her wrist.

"No..." he muttered and took her hand, sitting up, his eyes fixated on her wrist. They both sat on the floor, attempting to catch their breath.

He remembered what she said about her parents not being soulmates... how they lost their actual soulmates and found each other later. He knew it didn't matter to her. He knew she wouldn't care if they were soulmates or not, right? They could choose to be with each other... like her parents.

"Tomorrow," he said softly.

"Ah yes! Tomorrow is our last day to train like this. Though I'd be happy to train at school if you want to-"

"Go out with me."

"Eh?" she squeaked, pausing to look at him. "T-Todoroki-san?"

"Tomorrow... instead of training... I... I want to take you to lunch, or dinner... whatever. I, uh, I don't know..." he stammered, suddenly unsure why he blurted those words out so suddenly.

"L-Like... a date?" she asked. It was rare for someone to ask someone on a date if they didn't know their soulmark. It was practically unheard of. Of course she would be thrown off by the prospect of going with someone like him, destined to never know just from looking.

"...if you're... interested. I know I don't know your soulmark and you know I don't know mine-"

"Yes..." she said, and she slid her fingers to lace between his. "I would love to go on a date with you, Todoroki-san." She turned her face towards the floor, her cheeks flushed the brightest red he'd ever seen.

He squeezed her hand back. "Okay..." he breathed, still not quite sure what to say as they sat there with their hands laced together, but his chest felt warm. She was smiling, and that was enough for him.

Tomorrow, he would go on a date with Yaoyorozu Momo, and it didn't matter if they were soulmates or not.

[oneofyatosfollowers]

One of a Kind- Chapter 6

AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20191861/chapters/51809035

Fanfiction: https://www.fanfiction.net/s/13360973/1/One-of-a-Kind

When the elevator doors opened, Yato was faced with an odd scene. The first thing he noticed was Hiyori, awake and standing, face visibly upset. Beside her sat a fat older man in a decorated white suit with a thick red book open on his lap. Yato's heart stopped when he focused on who was behind Hiyori.

He stood next to the bug-eyed Go-4. The 2.0 to Yato's prototype, the only other person to survive his father's operation and training. Who was once a human named Kouto Fujisaki, was now an 'Auto' a cyborg meant to co-pilot the best of the space cruises. No cyborg aged, but it still threw Yato that Kouto still looked the same as their time training. The Auto's brown hair matched the dead dirt of their home planet and his eyes the same mahogany red. He now wore a white and black copilot outfit, lacking the caption hat Captain Tenjin wore.

"Yato!" Hiyori exclaimed. Yato pulled his eyes away from the red ones across the room to see his love marching towards him. He threw his arms open to welcome her into them, smile wide.

"Hiyori! I missed you! I followed you here-"

"Where's the plant?" Hiyori demanded at a low volume. Yato's hands dropped at his sides in confusion. He noted how she stopped just out of reach.

"Plant?" Yato cocked his head to the side, "You took it. You put it in your pod-thingy." When Yato gestured to the pod in question, he saw the plant drawer open and empty. His eyes widened in understanding and he looked at Hiyori, who was starting to look ill.

"Well you see, it's not there. And without proof that Earth is capable of sustaining life, we cannot go home." Tenjin stated calmly and shut the book.

"I don't reconize that uniform, but I can tell you are an advanced human. A Wall-E?" Tenjin brought his chair forward and looked Yato up and down with polite curiosity.

"I'm so sorry, Captain Tenjin, he's one of the Earth cleaners. I don't know why- or how- he got here but-" Hiyori frantically tried to explain only to quiet when the captain put his hand up. Yato swallowed nervously as everyone in the room stared at him, the captain much more closely now. He felt like a bug under a microscope. Yato thrusted out a hand, Tenjin's face jolted back in alarm but he overall didn't move.

"Er, yes, I am a Waste Allocation Load Lifter: Earth class. ID 001P. My name is Yato." Yato said. He froze when Kouto took a couple clipped steps forward with a hand outstretched.

"'ID number 001P'?" Hiyori whispered to herself. That didn't make any sense. Maybe he was trying to say he was the only one left? But what does the 'P' stand for? Must be an Earth thing?

"We don't do handshakes anymore. Don't soil the captain, cleaner." Kouto informed with a voice of honey. His advancing was also stopped by Captain Tenjin putting up a hand. The captain's older eyes never left Yato's hand.

"You have an odd accent, is that the old language? And a 'handshake' huh? I assume this is a form of greeting used on Earth?" Tenjin repeated the word slowly. His face showed he filed the information away once the Wall-E confirmed his hypothesis. Everyone in the room seemed to hold their breath as the Captain of Heaven's Sun reached out and grasped the Wall-E's hand. Yato paused a moment before slowly moving their linked arms up and down twice. Smart as a whip, the old man let go, rubbing his hand together.

"Oh my! What's?" Captain Tenjin gazed at the dusty brown that highlighted the lines of his hands. He rubbed his finger tips together in awe and calculation. Kouto stepped forward again, clearing his throat.

"That's just dirt, sir, it cannot harm you."

"'Dirt'?"

"Yes. Dirt," Kouto turned to hiss at Yato, "Flith." Yato narrowed his eyes back. The other cyborgs sensed the growing tension. Go-4 emerged from the shadows and stood behind the Auto, not even holding a candle to the copilot's threatening aura. Hiyori, to everyones great surprise, stepped next to Yato. She was within arms reach, but Yato didn't look away, and she did the same.

"This is like earth or soil? From the text books? Fascinating." Tenjin finally put his hand away and looked back up at the Wall-E. He gave Yato and Hiyori another once-over and then quirked his lips.

"Perhaps we should have you both cleaned and maybe updated?" Tenjin rose a grey eyebrow in question to Yato who just inched closer to Hiyori.

"I'll have Miss Iki's pod diagnosed for bugs. So this doesn't happen again." Kouto said. Go-4 gave a salute and walked towards the pod. Hiyori looked like she wanted to protest, but didn't, remaining by Yato's side.

"Captain Tenjin, I will take us both to the center. I'm sorry for the mishap." Hiyori said. The top half of her body tipped forward till she practically made a right angle. Yato didn't know what it meant but he copied, bowing to the captain. The Eve then straightened and spun on her heel. She walked, gabbing Yato's elbow on the way, and lead them both to the elevator. Yato regained his balance next to a rigid Hiyori. The elevator doors slid shut, blocking the view of an amused captain and his unreadable copilot.

The elevator dropped smoothly and soundlessly. So quiet in fact, Yato could hear his and Hiyori's breath. She was still rigid and started down at the floor. Her long hair covered her face from view, but her fingers kept rolling in and out of fists.

"So, uh, fancy meeting you her-!" Yato jumped back and hit the closest wall, his arms went up out of habit. His blue eyes were crossed as they focused on the familiar sight of a gun barrel. Hiyori's furious face moved out from behind her gun.

"I don't even want to ask why- or how- you're here. But, Yato. I need you to tell me. Where is the plant? Please." The last of her sentence came out as a plea. Yato's heart went out to her.

"I don't know. I swear. I didn't touch it at all, just like I promised, and I was following you the whole time so I know it didn't just fall out. But last I saw, it was in there." Yato spoke softly and strongly, never looking away from her. He meant every word, there was no way that thing just got lost. The gun was lowered and put away.

"I believe you." Hiyori decided, speaking to the floor. She stepped and let out a sad sigh. Yato felt his shoulders fold in and he looked anywhere but his sad companion.

"Well, uh, we should get cleaned up. I mean the 'water' back home wasn't even anything. And I got dirt so embedded in my circuits, the only way I'm ever gonna get clean is with some major futuristic scrubbing." Yato finally looked back up at the Eve when he heard a huff of laughter. The young man moved away from the wall and faced the door. The air was considerably lighter, as if the fate of Earth was no longer their problem. Hiyori must have felt it too, her head was raised a bit higher than before. Side by side, they watched the elevator doors open to the mini lobby.

Yato was once again faced with three cyborgs. Two looking like they were ready to strangle someone, the other fast asleep in his chair. Take was the first to charge forward, fist in hand with a wide smile.

"I have done it, miscreant! I have mastered the art of rock-paper-scissors!" Take proclaimed, pushing Hiyori to the side. Yato didn't even blink, doing the song and throwing out rock to the Typ-E's scissors. Kuin was jolted awake at the sound of his partner's cry of outrage. The latter was ignored completely as the two men greeted each other in a poliet wave. Hiyori had a face like everyone else had just grown a second head, and gave Yato a look saying he had something to do with it. Yato sidestepped the raging Take to throw a hand up to the third cyborg.

"Hey Yukine!" To Yato's absolute delight, the kid perked up and whipped to face him at the sound of his new name. The Wall-E grinned wider when Yukine held up his pinky finger, moved it in a weird way that had Hiyori gasp, then went back to cleaning dirty boot-prints off the floor with a vengeance.

"We're going to get cleaned. Can you please call a transport?" Hiyori addressed the two Typ-Es.

"Call a transport for that scrub? How about I get a trailer he can sit in-" Take shouted and pointed at Yato as Kuin leaned over the key board and pressed a couple buttons. A rectangle in the wall slid open and a transport slid out along a new floor-line, stopping in front of Hiyori.

"What the? Kuin!" Take whipped around and stomped over to Kuin to give him a piece of his mind. Hiyori took a spot in the front and looked over her shoulder at Yato.

"Get in the back."

"Yes ma'm." Yato hopped on the back, causing it to dip and sway, "Come on, kid!"

Yukine looked up from his roller, wide-eyed and confused. Hiyori questioned and berated Yato as he smiled and patted the spot next to him. Yukine took another look at the floor, the dirt path leading to the elevator, and tucked his roller back on his back.

"Stop smiling. You look like a freak." Yukine said. He got on the transport much more gracefully, sitting as far away from the Wall-E as possible. Both had their legs dangling and tools clanking together. Hiyori drove forward, the glass doors opened and closed on their own. Yato waved goodbye to the two Typ-Es.

They drove back through the empty sports complex, most of the ship shut down in a sort of 'night time'. Yato swung his feet as they flew across the floor, finally taking in the view he was too frantic to notice before. Once they were back on the highway, Hiyori came and sat in the back. She gave both boys a once-over.

"So, um," she started, "How do you two know each other?"

"Oh. I adopted him." Yato said. Hiyori choked while Yukine began shuddering out explanations and excuses.

"'Adopted him'?" Hiyori restated.

"And named him." Yato tacked on.

Hiyori continued staring at Yato while Yukine burned. She then straightened up and cleared her throat. The Eve stuck out a hand to the Mo with a kind look she never gave Yato.

"Well, uh, My name is Hiyori Iki, I'm an Eve ID 080E. Nice to meet you." Hiyori said. Yukine looked unsure at her and her outstretched hand. He took it lightly.

"Yukine," the kid shook once then let go, "I'm, uh, a Mo, ID 091M." There was a beat of silence while Yukine avoided Yato's Cheshire grin. The kid was looking at the ground as they sped by, debating on whether or not he could jump off and not get hit. Hiyori turned to fix Yato with a stern look he found adorable.

"Now, Yato, the plant is missing-"

"I said I don't have it-"

"-I know. And I said I believed you," she blushed when he hummed in fake surprise, "But Yato, it's really important we find that plant. You weren't there when the captain and the video explained the importance." Hiyori leaned in and looked at Yato with wide, imploring eyes. Yato playfully rolled his eyes.

"Yeah yeah. Rebelion from the doctor family. Fame and regonition. Making Mommy and Daddy proud." Yato said. Hiyori sputtered while Yukine looked back at her with interest.

"Wait. You, a human member of an upper class family, became a worker Eve just to prove your parents wrong? About what?" Yukine asked.

"N-No! I became an Eve because I want too! I wanted to go to Earth and learn to fight. I want to help!" Hiyori spoke with conviction and Yukine didn't respond.

"Oh so you are a human. Just with detachable advancements," Yato spoke, looking her up and down, "I've been wondering about that." But before Hiyori could answer, Yukine explained in a rather cold tone.

"Its a class system. Depending on what job you get you can stay human or at least keep your memories. Upperclass humans are able to pick and choose, but most of the more dirty or dangerous jobs are considered off limits. But of course nothing's really off limits to people with money, so pretty much most of the passengers on this ship," Yukine's eyes narrowed with distain, "None of this applies if you're a minor, your family chooses for you and the lower class jobs automatically require loss of humanity. The family is compensated, while your old life and your memories are wiped clean and your shipped to a different cruise." The two felt their hearts squeeze at Yukine's cold tone, wanting to be angry at people he can't remember and can never find.

Yato caught Hiyori's attention. His sudden furry was hard to ignore and she couldn't understand why this would upset him like this. The Eve bit her lip as Yato put a hand on Yukine's head, rustling it a little when he didn't react. The Wall-E then looked to Hiyori, nodded at her to continue. Hiyori looked at Yukine for a moment longer before starting up again.

"It isn't just about the plant. The plant is proof."

"Proof for what?" Yato asked leaning forward. Hiyori began to look embarrassed, maybe even a bit ashamed, she couldn't look either of them in the eye.

"The plant shows that Earth can sustain organic life." Hiyori said. Yukine looked back up at her, then snuck a glance as Yato's blank face. Hiyori blinked at the beat of silence, then continued.

"Once Heaven's Sun identifies the plant, it will begin 'Operation: Recolonize'. The ship will automatically plot a course to Earth and jump to hyper-space.

"You mean, the humans will come back to Earth if we find the plant?" Yato pressed. Hiyori nodded.

"Yes. Once we find the plant we have to bring it to the captain. And then once the captain's chamber identifies the plant, the center of the deck will open up a pod where the plant needs to go order for the ship to identify the proof." Hiyori said. Yato nodded earnestly. He wanted more than anything for the humans to come back, for Hiyori to stay with him on Earth. With Yukine too, he had grown fond of the young cleaner.

The transport turned down a short tunnel and parked next to a half-circle glass door labeled 'Worker Repair Ward' it's glass blurry for privacy. Hiyori got off and called to Yato when he leapt off. Yukine slid off and awkwardly stood, still not sure if he should be here.

"I'm not filthy like the two of you so I'll wait out here." Yukine said. Yato made a whiney noise that had Hiyori whacking his shoulder.

"Actually, you wait here too Yato. I need to sign us in first and try to explain you." Hiyori walked off towards sliding door, her hazy shadow the only evidence of her there. Yato sighed and stuck his hands in his pockets. Yukine was staring at him, looking him up and down very slow, taking an especially long time on the compactor. He was sure the kid had questions, at any moment he would select one.

"Hey."

"Yes, Yukine?" Yato gave a patient look. The kid still wasn't used to the new name but he recovered quicker.

"So, um, Hiyori said we would be able to go back to Earth if we find the plant." Yukine looked at the floor. The lack of a question confused Yato but he nodded.

"Yep! All the humans get to come back."

"Yeah, but you say 'come back'." Yukine stated.

"Uh, yeah. So?" Yato wrinkled his brows. Where was this going?

"You say 'come back' like you're there or you were there?"

"Yes." Yato said. He became more confused when he visibly saw the kid struggle with communicating his train of thought. Yukine came to the front of Yato to look up at him with balled fists. The Mo didn't look angry, more determined.

"I guess what I'm asking is: Are you from Earth?"

"Yes." The Wall-E confirmed. There was a stretch of silence as Yukine sorted through his shock and excitement with stronger confusion.

"You're from Earth?"

"Yes."

"Are you sure?" Yukine said, skeptical. Yato rolled his eyes and gestured to all of himself.

"Yes, I'm sure. Ask Hiyori if you don't believe me but that is what the 'E' in 'Wall-E' stands for." Yato tugged his breast pocket forward to show the stitching, signifying his purpose. Yukine looked above the elder's shoulder.

"Is that for Wall-Es too?" Yukine pointed at the metal sticking up next to Yato's head with wide eyes. The kid was interested and gave Yato his full- adorable- attention. Yato confirmed Yukine's question and grabbed the compactor. He explained how it was hooked onto his back and where, that the bones in his spine, shoulders, and ribs were made of metal so it doesn't hurt, and how his brain signals it to hook and un-hook. By the time Hiyori came out, Yukine had already swung around the compactor- put a dent in the floor- and was now trying to re-attach it to Yato's back.

Hiyori slowed to a stop a couple feet away as Yukine held the compactor to Yato's back. Once he felt it was in place, he told Yato to clamp, marveling the heavy metal moving on it's own. Yukine then spun around and pointed to his back and roller, explaining to Yato his spine was only lightly traced with a metal that only the roller was attracted too. He let the Wall-E tug the roller on and off his back, the magnet not strong enough to hurt. The Eve smiled at the small 'family' her friend made. How the kid blushed at Yato's unabashed excitement just like she did. She found herself smiling too.

"Hiyori!" Yato cheered when she cleared her throat. Her cheeks warmed a little but her smile didn't falter.

"Come on. I'm going first, then I'll be with you so you don't freak out." Hiyori informed him. Yato happily nodded, skipping along after he made Yukine promise not to move or leave with strangers.

The door slid open to reveal a long infirmary-looking room. Beds were lined up and separated by the same wall of light the train had. In most of them, cyborgs were either sleeping or being fixed by other cyborgs or full on robots. Yato followed Hiyori to an empty bed with the wall that separated the bed from the walkway gone.

"Here. Just sit here and wait for me to be checked out and my enhancements cleaned." Hiyori said. After a second, Yato stepped up onto the platform and sat on the bed. The blue light shone up to her collarbone when Hiyori clicked the button, the thin but strong rectangle separating the two.

"You're sure you'll be alright? Just sit tight okay?" Hiyori looked unsure. Yato smiled to reassure her when his neighbor piped up.

"Ah, he'll be just fine Miss Eve! Leave him to us we'll take good care of him!" A gruff cyborg said from the bed to Yato's left. He smiled really big, not even phased by the man across the isle, fighting his restraints. Yato smiled at his new neighbor too, excited to meet more cyborgs.

This man wore different shades of brown under a brown poncho. He had light brown hair as well, scruffy and sticking up in all directions, he reminded Yato of his old teddy bear. Hiyori looked awkwardly relieved, she reminded him of his 'orders' then walked off towards the back. Yato following her with his eyes. A whistle from his neighbor, drawing his attention.

"She's a nice-looker. You're lucky having her care for you." he said, sounding good natured. Yato nodded and blushed a bit. She did sound like she cared about him, at least a little bit more.

"Yeah," Yato reached a hand over the wall, "I'm Yato. I'm a Wall-E." The man shot up out of bed and gripped his hand firmly, shaking it up and down wildly. Yato introduced himself to the woman on his right. He also waved back to the man across the isle now being held down by robotic arms.

"Well, I'm not quite sure what the 'E' stands for, but I'm a Wall-H! I work down below with a couple others! We call each other the Emishi." he informed Yato. The Wall-E was thrilled. In front of him was the current version of his class! And there were more! Maybe if they didn't find the plant, he could stay on the ship and work with them. He'd be able to see Hiyori whenever he wanted, and go back to working with other people! There were so many things Yato wanted to say, but the bear-like emishi beat him to it.

"So, what are you doing with an Eve?"

"Oh! We're, uh, friends! But she gets annoyed with me easily. See, I'm not from around here. I don't really know what's what and she's trying to do an important thing." Yato said, opening his soul to the man. The Wall-H's fuzzy brows shot up in shock.

"You don't say! And here I've thought it's just cause you're from a different ship! But then maybe it's better at that."

"Why's that?" Yato cocked his head as his neighbor cranked his neck to look down the hall.

"Well, if the higher ups find out you're not from around here," he pointed, "Miss Eve might get in trouble for bringing you here." Yato followed to where the bearish-man was pointing. Yato looked behind him and down to the foggy glass wall. Hiyori's silhouette was still there- as silm and pretty as ever- she was sitting down with her arm sticking out.

Yato felt all his blood fall to his feet. The doctor working on her flipped on a machine, allowing the mechanical arm twirled to life. The claw gripped Hiyori's hand and tore it clean off. Yato's brain short-circuited.

[takadasaiko]

Houseguest Chapter Three

FFN II AO3

Summary: Tony and Steve' investigate the burglary at the Stark Industry.

Chapter Three: Always Come Prepared

Tony didn't bother calling ahead to the location. He didn't typically make trips out to facilities unless R&D work was being done there, so on the off chance that someone inside his company had orchestrated the break in he didn't want to give them any warning. Granted, he had to admit there was something amusing about watching people scurry when the man whose name was on the side of the building showed up unannounced. Not everything could be strategic. Life was meant to be entertaining.

Cap had decided to tag along rather than go into town. He looked like a fish out of water as he followed Tony into the facility, and even more awkward as the SI employees went into overdrive for the surprise visit.

"Mr Stark?" Tony turned to see what he assumed was the man in charge around there barreling towards him. "Bill Wiley. I'm sorry nobody greeted you when you arrived. No one said you'd be coming in personally," the building manager said as nearly raced to meet him.

Tony greeted the sweaty man with a handshake that couldn't be avoided without coming across like an ass. "It was taking a while for the report to hit our servers. I thought I might be able to speed things along."

He didn't miss the way Bill Wiley glanced nervously at Rogers who, in turn, was sweeping every visible inch of the space with that sharp blue gaze of his. He might be behind the times on tech, but Cap had proven resourceful when he was interested in uncovering the truth on something. Maybe it was a good idea to have brought him along afterall.

"Well, it was in the middle of the night with our skeleton security crew, sir. We've been working with the police and running inventory on —"

"Perfect," Tony cut him off. "Whatcha got?"

"For… inventory…. sir?" the other man asked like he was certain he must have misunderstood.

"Yep. What'd they steal?"

The manager looked like he was bordering on terrified as he answered. "Nothing, as far as we can tell." He stopped, and Tony was fairly sure that he was weighing if what he wanted to say would get him fired or not. He motioned for him to spit it out and the man swallowed hard. "Do you… know what we do at this office, sir?"

"Something having to do with, uh…." Tony drawled out, desperately wracking his brain for the answer. He'd seen it, right? He was sure that he'd seen it or that JARVIS had told him or something. The hangover was starting to recede, but that didn't mean he hadn't missed a few things on the way there.

"I'm with your marketing division. I just happened to be the manager that answered the call at six this morning and came in."

"Six? They said the break in was at three."

"Might have been, sir, but I was at home asleep." Poor Bill Wiley, who appeared to be too far out of his depths for comfort, ducked his head. "We're the catch-all. We've got a few marketing teams that aren't housed at HQ or in New York, the aviation department holds meetings and keep their offices here, and a couple of underwriters that live out this way come in here to avoid the commute. We don't house anything worth stealing."

"Hey, Tony?"

Tony turned, finding Steve further away than he expected. He was standing with a security guard that looked more than a little starstruck. Good. Maybe that meant he'd helpful.

"Tony, this is -"

"Juan Morales. Wow. I didn't think I'd actually ever get to meet you. You're Iron Man."

"Sometimes," Tony answered casually as he sauntered over. "Right now I just own a company who had a break in that I'd like to know more about."

"I wasn't on duty when it happened. I start the morning shift at nine."

Tony shot Cap a look, but the other man motioned for patience.

"I'm buddies with Tom in the main office. Guess it's the one you work out of?"

"I work out of my house most days, but you were saying?"

"Right… So, Tom said that some of the other security guards from around the city sent in reports about signs of guys casing the places. I mean, most of them were warehouses and storage facilities and stuff, but we've all got the same basic security protocols, right? It's weird."

"Do you think they were testing them?" Steve prompted.

"Yeah. I mean, response times are gonna be different in each location, but the alarms, how long they take to go off, if the building has any lockdown protocols…."

It was like a slap to the face. "Which they all do," Tony managed.

"But no one was here. There was a delay in the lockdown. No code or anything, but nobody trapped either."

"Like they found an override….. Can you get me a list? The other locations your buddy mentioned?"

"Oh yeah, sure, Mr Stark. Anything you need."

"Just that list. And, kid, if this leads to something, you're getting the bonus of a lifetime." He turned towards Steve as the young guard bolted off to get him what he needed.

"You think someone's after something."

"More sure of it every second. Listen, uh… this is my problem. If you wanna go do the whole touristy thing -"

"What? And let you have all the fun?"

Brown eyes met blue and there wasn't even a hint of sarcasm. Cap wanted to help. Okay then. This could get interesting.

                                               _____________

JARVIS has been running probability calculations all day, leaving Tony to tinker and Cap to wander around LA at his leisure. He'd left his things at the mansion, though, so Tony assumed he was coming back.

It left him with time on his hands and time was spent tinkering with suits and a variety of other projects in his downstairs workshop. It did wonders for his nerves and let him focus on something else when he didn't have enough data to start tracking down this unseen enemy.

"Tony?"

He jumped at the light touch on his shoulder, hissing a soft curse as the soldering tool touched his opposite hand and burned it. He turned, finding Pepper to his left and she looked startled by the extreme reaction. "I called your name a couple of times."

"In the zone, sorry," he mumbled and held his hand up to examine it. He'd had a lot worse.

Pepper reached for it, her hand gentle against his as if she didn't trust his assessment. "You should ice it."

The argument died on his lips and he offered her a smile instead. He stood, but instead of moving to the freezer to grab one of the waiting ice packs he kept there, he leaned in. She snorted a laugh, muffled by the kiss, and Tony wrapped his arms around her to pull her just a little closer. She gave in and he could feel her smile against him as she reached up, one hand trailing along the side of his face until her arm rested against his shoulder, elbow bent so that her fingers toyed with his dark hair. Okay. This was nice. It did wonders for his nerves too. One of the many, many reasons he never wanted to let her go. "Hey, maybe we could -" he started in the same moment Pepper said —

"Did I hear something about a break in last night?"

Right. That. He released her and started towards to freezer. "Yeah, the offices out in Burbank."

"In Burbank? There's nothing out there to steal."

"I think they were testing our security protocols." He grabbed the ice pack and winced as he pressed it to the burn.

"Does Barry know?"

Tony snorted, shooting her a withering look. "My money's on no. Remind me why we pay him?"

"Because he's the head of security, Tony."

"He's terrible at his job."

Pepper leaned against one of his work tables and crossed her arms. "And who would you replace him with? You've hated every name I've given you in the last five years."

"We didn't know any of those people."

"Tony," she said in that tone that said she thought he was bordering on the absurd, "we don't know most new hires. That's what references and due diligence is for."

"Happy."

She blinked at him. "Hogan?"

"Yeah. He's been running my personal security for years-"

"Babysitting you, you mean?"

"- and yours for the last two. He knows every last security protocol we have and I guarantee he has ideas. We know him, there's no question we can trust him. How have we not already done it? Let's do it."

"Promote Happy to head of security?"

"Yeah."

She was still looking at him like he'd lost it. After a long moment she loosed a breath, letting her arms drop. "I'll make you a deal. You do what you're going to do anyway and figure out if this was more than just a one-off break in and if - if, Tony - SI's security has been compromised we'll revisit the topic when I get back from London."

"Deal. Wait. London?"

She crossed the space between and pressed a quick kiss to his lips. "It's been on the books for two weeks."

"Seriously?"

"Yep. I'll be back on Saturday. Think you can manage?"

Tony feigned a hurt look. "No faith in me, Miss Potts?"

The look didn't phase her and her voice was painfully sweet as she spoke. "I just know you, Mr Stark. I left a reminder with JARVIS about the R&D meeting tomorrow. Please don't miss it?"

"Promise."

"Thank you. And try not to get shot at or blown up while your looking into your thief?"

He reached out for her hand and pulled her close again. "Do my best," he murmured, and she was close enough he could feel her breath on his skin. He didn't want her to go. Selfish, he knew, but it didn't change the feeling.

"The calculations are complete, sir," JARVIS' voice rang out, causing them both to jump, instantly pulled from the moment.

Pepper cleared her throat. "I need to head to the airport. Let me know how it goes?"

"Will do. Love you."

He loved that smile of hers. "Love you too."

Tony waited until she was out of the lab and starting back up the stairs. "This better be good, J."

"I wouldn't have interrupted if it weren't important, sir," his AI responded. "I've run the calculations that you requested, and have come up with two likely targets and the top five most likely times that the breach will be attempted."

"Put it up on the screen," Tony instructed and watched the data flicker into his vision. "Pretty sure you can take the warehouse on the right off, JARVIS."

"I was afraid you might say so, sir. Shall I contact the authorities?"

"No. Let security onsite know there's an issue, but I'll deal with it."

"Sir, if I may -"

"You may not."

"I only wished to inform you that Captain Rogers is back. In case you would like to enlist his aid." The second half of the announcement was spoken so quickly that Tony had to wonder if JARVIS was trying to get it out before the mutecommand was given. He should probably be more nervous that he was that his AI had developed quite that much obstinance when it came to his warnings being heard at the very least, even if he really still couldn't do anything about making Tony follow them.

"Thanks, buddy," Tony said instead, letting it slide. He couldn't fault JARVIS for trying to look out for him.

                                              _____________

Agreeing to help Tony Stark was turning out to feel like he'd been caught in a riptide. There was no real control. All he could do was let himself be dragged along until he surfaced at the other end.

Steve had barely walked into the house when Tony had come flying up from his lab and told him that if he still wanted to help, he better hurry up. He barely stopped long enough to add that he knew where his mysterious burglars were going to strike next and that he wanted to get out there to go over everything with his security team onsite. If Steve wanted any more details than that, he could get them on the way.

Tony talked almost as fast as he drove, rattling off so much information that Steve had to listen fast to catch the important pieces. "Wait, Wait. Hold on a second. What exactly are you doing with alien tech?"

The other man was halfway through a new sentence when he seemed to hear the question. "Huh? Oh. I created a new department at Stark Industries after the Battle of New York to work with the government to help with the cleanup."

"You? Working with the government?" Steve asked, shooting the other man an amused look. He'd seen clips of what happened a couple years before when he'd been called to Capitol Hill to discuss the Iron Man suits. His mockery of the Senate wasn't the top video when Steve had searched his name, but it was close. Funny thing, he's found some old reels put on the internet of Howard in a similar position after the war. He'd responded flippantly, hoeing no rea respect for the elected officials that had questioned him. Like father, like son.

"It does happen every once and awhile."

"I'm still not sure why we didn't contact the police. This seems like the type of thing they should handle."

"All the cops will do is scare them off and we'll lose them," Tony grumbled as he took a particularly sharp turn too fast for comfort. He glanced over, and Steve couldn't shake the feeling that he was sizing up his reaction to tailor his own. "I need more data. Let's get there, get the lay of the land, and then maybe we'll loop LAPD in."

"Backup couldn't hurt," Steve pressed. "In case things move quicker than you're expecting."

"I don't need that kind of backup. The LAPD are great for what they do, but I became Iron Man to make sure that no one could use my stuff to hurt people. This falls firmly in that category."

"And they're okay with that?"

"Oh no, they hate it. Just can't really stop me," Tony chuckled and turned a corner. A warehouse came into view, large and gated with a guard station at the edge. The guard did not look happy as they pulled up next to it.

"Mr Stark," the guard greeted, his tone matching his worried expression. "I was just about to put a call in, sir. Communication with the warehouse went down about two minutes ago. I can't get through to anybody inside. I know you said -"

"Yep," Tony cut him off and killed the car engine.

Steve watched him step outside and followed half a moment later, his gaze trained on the warehouse. It was quiet, which might be expected after the close of the business day if it weren't for the fact that Tony had sent a warning ahead. For that, it was suspiciously quiet.

It didn't last. There was a loud crash that drew their attention and a figure stumbled out the door and fell hard against the ground.

"Shit," Tony cursed. "They're already inside."

"Call the LAPD," Steve instructed the guard before Tony could counter him. It wasn't until no argument came that he saw him toying with what looked like a bracelet of some kind. "What are you-?"

Tony nodded at the car. "Check the trunk."

Steve shot him a questioning look, but circled around to where it had popped open. Inside he saw his shield. The same one Tony had asked to take a look at while he'd been out earlier that day. "Just coming to check things out, huh?"

There was a loud roar that he'd heard before and one of Tony's suits came into view from seemingly nowhere. It barreled down and opened up just long enough for him to step in before it snapped shut around him. "Always come prepared, right?" he asked through the suit and Steve resisted the urge to roll his eyes.

"The police are on their way," the guard offered.

"Fine. We'll have it wrapped before they get within a mile." Steve could feel that dark gaze move to him even through the helmet. "You with me, Cap, or do you wanna wait for your buddies?"

Steve pushes a frustrated breath out his nose as he grabbed his shield.

                                              _____________

TBC

Notes: I was just writing along and suddenly Tony's pitching Happy for the head of security position. Don't know what to tell you. Apparently Barry sucks at his job. He's a lousy Forehead of Security :P

Next Time: Tony and Steve race against the clock to rescue the hostages and catch the thieves.

[miraculouslanceylance]

Frozen in Fear

*yes this contradicts current canon and it’s a throwback to the show from the first couple of seasons but live with it for the sake of langst

Everyone felt a sick sense of deja vu. Despite being in the middle of a war, none of them had to actually go into a healing pod very often. But Lance? This was his second time―and for another near-death injury, no less.

“Pidge! Squad, on your seven!” Hunk yelled, firing a laser at the closest ship. He was busy fighting off a group of Galra on his own, but he’d be damned if he didn’t help her out. Pidge was just as good as the others, but she was still the youngest.

Shiro growled. “There’s just too many of them! We’re surrounded!”

“Great, then we can attack in any direction!” Lance screamed. He flew in a spiral motion, shooting lasers at every Galra ship in the area. He easily took care of the fighters around himself before moving on to help the others.

Keith flew through the asteroids with ease, shooting at every Galra fighter the best he could. He’d never be a better shot than Lance, but he could certainly fly better. Gritting his teeth, he flew around his teammates and took care of anything close to him. “We have to get out of here!”

“Paladins! Zarkon is charging up a weapon that’s designed to wipe out your lions! You have to get out of there immediately! All of those fighter pilots are just to keep you occupied!” Allura yelled. She tucked some hair behind her ear, letting her eyes flicker all around the screen. Their minimal intel had given them important news, but it might’ve come too late.

“If we fly away, they’ll just chase after us!” Pidge yelled in response. She grunted as another laser hit her lion.

“We have to try!” Shiro replied.

The Paladins agreed; they needed to get out of there. First, Pidge and Hunk escaped to the castle. Shiro and Keith were not far behind. But Lance? Lance was being the hero again. He was taking care of ships left and right. He forgot all about the warning.

Inside the castle barrier, all of the lions turned around.

Keith gasped. “Lance! Get out of there!”

“I’m coming!” Lance screamed.

A giant laser went through the Blue Lion. It sparked violently before going dead.

They didn’t think Lance was even alive. Even after they got Blue into the hangar and him inside a healing pod, nobody thought that he had a chance. So now, having him in such a healthy condition is nothing short of a miracle. Pidge shuddered at the memory. Everyone cried for hours after Lance was put into the healing pod.

She couldn’t live through something like that again.

Pidge checked the monitor on the pod’s screen. She didn’t know how to read the Altean language, but she knew that all of the full, green bars meant that Lance was good to go. His vitals were normal and healthy. So, why wasn’t the pod releasing him?

“Allura, could you come look at this for a second? I think the pod is bugging out.”

Allura rubbed her eyes as she walked over. In addition to crying, none of them had gotten much sleep since that battle. She squinted at the bright blue panel. “You’re right. Lance should’ve been released by now.” She tapped a few buttons, resulting in a big red sign flashing onto the screen. She hummed. “It says that the patient isn’t healed yet. How peculiar.”

Hunk walked over next. He looked down at the screen with squinted eyes and a confused frown. “Lance looks healthy. It’s probably glitched.”

“Well, then I guess I’ll just let him out myself, then,” Allura mumbled. She tapped another sequence of buttons, making the door open with a hiss.

As the fog pooled around their feet, Lance slumped against the back of the pod. His eyes slowly pushed themselves open, though he looked grumpy and tired. “Hey, guys.” Lance stood up straight and cracked his neck. He blinked a few times as if he couldn’t believe he was really there. “What’d I miss?”

Those five words made a collective weight fall off of everyone’s shoulders. Lance was okay. With any luck, he’d be back in his lion in a few days. For now, some food and a blanket would be more than enough.

“You must be starving,” Hunk said as they walked to the kitchen. “I created a new recipe with the ingredients I bought from our last trip to the space mall. Side note: those purple discs that looked like pepperoni are nothing like pepperoni.”

Lance laughed. “Sounds great, Hunk.”

While the rest of the team walked along, Keith wandered off on his own. He chewed his bottom lip as he went, a stupid habit that he couldn’t break. It didn’t bother him, but it drove Shiro crazy.

Lance sat at the head of the table, eager to try out Hunk’s latest dish. Pidge sat to his left. The seat across from her was probably going to be for Hunk. Lance began to ask a question but stopped short as someone draped his signature green jacket over his head.

“Thought you might be cold,” Keith said as he took that empty seat.

“Thanks, man,” Lance smiled, because yeah, he was cold. He slipped into the jacket, content with the familiar lightweight on his shoulders. A small reminder of home, and all of what awaited him there. He watched Keith scoot into the table with that smile stuck on his face. “I must’ve really stressed you guys out. Just look at the bags under Keith’s eyes.”

Shiro sighed. “Yeah, we were all very worried about you. But you’re better now, so let’s just try to relax.”

It was like Shiro cast a spell on them. Everyone relaxed and joked around with each other. No one yelled at Lance when he flicked some goop into Allura’s hair. Everyone laughed when Pidge used her spoons to “block out the haters.” They practically lost it when everyone began speaking through memes, leaving Allura and Coran in the dust. For a brief, shining moment, they were all kids again. The fate of the universe didn’t rest on their shoulders. They weren’t in the middle of a space war. Countless alien races weren’t praying for them to succeed. They were just five, stupid kids that wanted to have fun.

...

Just days later, and they were at it again. Zarkon’s generals were trying to invade a planet, and it had to be defended. If he got control of it, then he would gain access to a whole portion of the galaxy. Voltron would be right back where they started.

It came down to the bridge. All of the paladins were fighting as hard as they could, but it just didn’t seem like it was enough. Lance grunted as he ducked to avoid a punch. He should’ve just stayed with his lion; he felt practically useless in hand-to-hand combat. He had a gun, how was he supposed to be helpful?

It didn’t help that the Galra soldier stood a whole foot taller than he did. Lance always thought he was tall at six feet, but he felt tiny compared to his opponent. His head was about as thick as the Galra’s arm. He ducked again, losing his balance for a moment.

“Die, blue paladin!” The monster roared.

Lance shot his giant arm. He tried to run backward and tripped over his own two feet.

The Galra soldier towered over him, laughing. His arm didn’t even appear to bother him. He pointed his gun at Lance’s head. “Die, blue paladin!”

Lance didn’t even have time to cry. By reflex, he extended a hand and prayed for a smooth death.

But the blow never came.

Lance looked up. His hand felt freezing cold like he had stuck it in ice water. The Galra soldier was frozen in ice himself. Even surrounded by ice, being on the wrong end of a gun scared Lance. A chill ran down his spine, realizing he came face to face with the barrel.

“Lance!” Keith screamed. He ran over and dropped to his knees. “Are you okay? I knew I should’ve helped you sooner-” Keith scooped him into his arms, mumbling apologies and complaints.

He hated to admit it, but Lance was grateful for Keith’s help. He tried to give him a hug back, but Keith dropped him to the floor. “Ow! What the heck, Keith-”

The rest of the team came running over. “Keith? What happened to your armor?” Shiro asked, pointing at Keith’s back. A big block of ice had formed.

Keith shrugged. “I-I don’t know. I was helping Lance up. He put his hand on my back, and suddenly it just felt cold. Really cold.”

Everyone looked at Lance in horror. He stared back at them with the same look. What could this mean? Since when did he have the ability to create ice? It just didn’t make any sense. And it broke Lance’s heart to see everyone look at him as if he were the new monster. As if he had tried to hurt Keith.

“Let’s get back to the castle. Coran or Allura may know what to do,” Pidge suggested.

Hunk reached out a hand to help Lance up, but Shiro pulled it away. He looked at Lance with unease. “We don’t know what would happen. It’s best not to take any chances.”

“Right, yeah,” Lance mumbled. He pushed himself to his feet and followed the others. They walked in silence back to their lions. He had no idea when the rest of the battle had been taken care of, but he was thankful for everyone’s help all the same.

The aliens of that planet looked at him with fear, too. Lance nodded as he walked by, refusing to let them see how much it hurt. He learned that lesson a long time ago.

Back at the castle, Coran and Allura were at a loss. They made Lance stand up on a platform so they could look him up and down. Pidge and Hunk took notes, while Keith and Shiro watched from afar. They were all studying him like he was some lab rat. Lance felt much worse than a common rodent. He was a mutant, a freak. He bit his cheek to keep from breaking down in front of them.

“He looks fine to me. Nothing out of the ordinary,” Hunk mumbled. He scratched his cheek in thought.

Pidge dropped her notebook and gasped in horror. “What if this happened when he got electrocuted? His lion has ice powers. Those powers must’ve been transferred to Lance.”

“But how?” Keith asked. His arms were crossed as usual, and he had the same grumpy look on his face.

Lance couldn’t help his next comment. He had to keep up appearances, after all. “Aw, are you jealous that you didn’t get your lion’s powers first? Don’t go electrocuting yourself to keep up in our rivalry, okay?”

Keith growled in annoyance. “I’m not jealous, you idiot! We’re trying to figure out what happened to you so we can fix it!”

“Careful, Keith. I’ve got ice powers, but I might not be as willing as Elsa to let things go.”

Shiro stepped in front of Keith, for the sake of everyone in the room. “Alright, enough with the petty arguing. We’ve got to figure him out.” He sent another look at Lance. It wasn’t as bad as before, but Lance got the message. He was dangerous now.

Allura hummed. “I’m sure that’s why the healing pod wouldn’t let him out. He wasn’t the same as before, but there probably wasn’t a way to fix it.”

“Does that mean I’m stuck like this?” Lance whined. His hands felt colder. He wiped them on his pants, hoping that’d help. They seemed to colder the more he worried. He did it again, if for nothing other than to create friction. He sighed.

Everyone saw his breath as if it were freezing cold in the room, not a comfortable room temperature.

“I’ve never seen anything like it,” Coran whispered. He fiddled with the end of his mustache to keep his hands distracted.

Lance shook his head. “I’m going to warm up.” He walked away from everyone, leaving them to stand around in shock.

The tension in the air constantly grew stronger, until everyone was suffocating in it. No one said a word. What was there to say?

Lance didn’t leave his room for the next three days. He refused. Everyone knocked at his door, hoping that it’d make some sort of difference. Keith threatened to kick it open. Hunk tried bribing him with delicious food. Allura practically begged. None of it worked. Lance stayed in bed, huddled under as many blankets as he could grab during the night.

It did nothing, though. The blankets. Lance knew that Coran turned up the temperature in his room, but he still shook with the chills. He saw fog with every breath. His teeth chattered beyond control. It wasn’t like that all the time...just when he really thought about the situation. He grew colder and colder as he grew more and more panicked.

Pidge knocked at the door. She sighed. “Lance? Would you please come out? I know you’re not going to hurt any of us. We all know that.”

“You don’t know that I won’t hurt you by accident,” Lance replied. He wiped at some tears. He already hurt all of his loved ones on Earth by disappearing without a trace. He had hurt so many people before that. No more.

“I’m working on some gloves that’ll protect you. Your Elsa comment made me think of it. It’s going to take a while, but I’m working on it.”

Lance shook his head. It was useless. “Thanks, Pidge, but don’t bother. Let Allura pilot Blue or something; I can’t do it.”

Pidge kicked the door. She kicked it again and punched it. “Stop just throwing us away! We’re trying to help you! We need you, Lance!” She kicked the door one last time. How could Lance just abandon all hope? How could he just throw away his responsibilities and give up on Blue? He loved Blue.

Truth is, he still did. Lance wiped at more tears. He felt them starting to freeze against his skin. “Pidge, please just go away.”

“No! Not until you open this door.” Pidge crossed her arms. That stubborn asshole could barricade himself in there for as long as he wanted,, but he was going to come out one way or another. “I mean it. I’m not leaving.”

“Well, go ahead, then!” Lance yelled. He curled in on himself, hoping that it’d preserve some heat. Fast heart. Shallow breaths. Shaking uncontrollably, from the cold and the fear. Great. Here we go again.

Lance crawled out of bed. He sobbed, nearly dropping to his feet, but he had to stay standing. The pressure was building up inside of him. He wiped at his tears again before aiming his hands at the wall. One last sigh. Suddenly, the wall was covered in ice. Lance cried and cried, waving his hands in every pattern possible. He covered the ceiling, the floor, and all four of the walls. He locked himself in by icing the door. It wouldn’t stop―not while he was having a panic attack. He couldn’t even hug himself at this point. The ice flowed out of his hands, and there was no going back now.

Pidge stood in front of the door, tapping her foot at a rapid pace. As the ice began to form on the door, her heart dropped. “Shiro! Allura! Coran!!” Pidge ran away screaming, hoping to find anyone who’d be able to help.

Lance was finally starting to calm down. He let out another sob as he looked at his mess. “I’m a monster,” he whispered to himself. “I’m no better than the Galra.” Lance fell to the floor, sobbing into his knees. The tears wouldn’t stop coming. He felt so heavy like his body was made of lead. He didn’t even flinch when someone started pounding on the door.

“Lance! Let me in!” Keith screamed. He kicked and punched it, just like Pidge did. “I’m not playing games with you anymore! You need help!”

“I can’t! I can’t let you in!” Lance cried. “I iced the door shut! And I could hurt you! You should see the mess I’ve made, Keith,” he sobbed. He looked around the room and wiped at his eyes. His hands were still cold to the bone. “I don’t want any of you to get hurt.”

Keith growled. “I don’t care about getting hurt! Let me help you! Let me in!” He kicked the door again, but it didn’t even crack the ice. He growled and kicked it again.

The rest of the team came running over. Shiro grabbed Keith by the forearm and pulled him back a few steps. “What are you doing? He’s having a panic attack, Keith. Screaming at him will only make it worse.”

Allura put her hand on the door. She frowned at the ice. “Pidge? Do you have a weird gadget that could melt this for us? Coran could hack into the system and unlock the door for us from there.”

“On it,” Pidge saluted. Hunk followed her down the hall.

Coran stepped toward the door for a moment. “Lance? I know you’re scared. We’ll get this ice cleaned up, and we’ll figure out how to help you control your new powers. They’re not something to be afraid of, or to shy away from. Just hold on.” He waited for a response, but none came. He walked away without another word.

Shiro sighed. “We need him out here. We can’t form Voltron without him.”

“He needs us,” Allura said. She wrapped her arms around herself, staring at the door. Her eyes scanned it up and down in panic. She had asked for help from everyone in the coalition, but no one knew anything. She sighed.

Nothing about this situation made any sense.

Lance had agreed to come out of his room, but he wouldn’t get close to anyone. He trained at a different time. He ate at the table, with two empty seats between him and the person next to him. Keith was no longer the loner who stood at the edge of the group; Lance took that title away.

Now, they were on a mission to meet with the Olkari again. They had spotted a weird monster prowling around their forests and asked Voltron for some help. While the team spoke with their leader, Lance waited behind with the lions. He sat on Blue’s paw with crossed legs and arms.

“I hate this, Blue,” he mumbled to her. “I don’t want these powers. I scare the others. I can’t control it.” He bit his lip, trying to keep his heart from beating too fast. The last thing he needed was a panic attack in the middle of the forest. If the Olkari saw that, then they’d probably attack him on the spot.

A twig snapped near Red. Lance’s head snapped in that direction. There, standing beside his giant metal paw, stood something resembling a deer. It hesitantly walked over towards Blue, which is the last thing that Lance wanted. He felt his heart sink. “No, go away,” he whispered.

The deer took that as a sign to walk closer. He sniffed the air and kept walking over.

“You’re gonna get hurt,” Lance said. He slid off of Blue’s paw and crouched. He picked up a few rocks, just to be safe. If he touched the deer, it would freeze over like that Galra soldier. He’d be a monster.

The deer didn’t stop walking over, though. It’d pause now and then, but it seemed determined to get closer and closer to Lance. It terrified him. Lance threw a rock at the deer’s feet. “Run away,” he hissed. “Run away before I can’t control it anymore.” He threw some more rocks. “Get away from me!”

Tears started to roll down his face again. They felt hot against his skin, but that was probably because he grew colder. Lance took in a deep breath and sighed. He couldn’t hurt this animal. He refused to become a monster. He picked up some more rocks and threw them towards the deer. “Get out of here! Go!”

Lance broke into another silent sob. He threw one last rock in a feeble attempt to scare away the deer, but it didn’t seem to care. It was useless. He crawled back up onto Blue’s paw, praying that it’d be a safe enough distance. “Please, just get away before you get hurt,” he whimpered.

“Damn it, Lance!” Keith yelled.

Lance’s head snapped to attention. Keith stood at the edge of the clearing, covered in flames. He was on fire, but it didn’t bother him. After another chill ran down his spine, Lance realized that Keith was ignited on purpose.

“Wh-what are you doing?” Lance asked.

“I did it for you, Lance,” Keith said. He ran over to Blue’s paw, scaring away the deer in the process. “I electrocuted myself inside of Red, just like you were.”

Lance wiped his eyes and slid down to the ground. He could feel Keith’s warmth from several feet away. His desperation to feel more was almost shameful. Lance pursed his lips. “Why, Keith? Why would you do that to yourself?”

“There’s no way to get rid of your powers,” Keith began. He took a hesitant step forward. “I didn’t want you to be alone. I didn’t want you to be going through all of this by yourself.”

Lance took another step forward. “You could’ve gotten really hurt, idiot.”

“I told you a while ago that I don’t care about getting hurt.”

“But I do.”

“I don’t know why.”

“Honestly, I don’t know either, sometimes.”

The tips of their shoes connected, and then their eyes. Was it possible for a heart to beat this fast? Lance’s heart threatened to drum right out of his chest. He laughed, bringing a hand up to scratch the back of his head.

Keith dropped his gaze to watch their limp hands. “Maybe now that I have powers, too...” Hesitantly, he held Lance’s hand. They fit together like pieces of a puzzle, a very complicated puzzle that sent butterflies to both of their stomachs. Neither of them pulled away.

“Well, we both have gloves on. I don’t know if that makes a difference or not,” Lance mumbled. He laced their fingers together.

They looked up at the same time.

“Well, I have an idea. Don’t turn me into an ice cube, okay?” Keith asked with a smirk.

“Don’t burn me alive,” Lance whispered back. He swallowed the lump in his throat.

And suddenly, Keith’s hands were cupping Lance’s cheeks. And their lips were pressed together with such gentle care that it didn’t feel real.

Lance carefully snaked his hands around Keith’s waist and pulled him closer. When he finally pulled away, he couldn’t stop smiling. He laughed and rested his head on Keith’s shoulder. “I can’t believe we didn’t kill each other.”

“I can’t believe I just kissed you,” Keith said quietly, staring off into the distance. He’d never had the courage to do something that brave before. Fighting the Galra felt like a happy Saturday afternoon compared to this. He laughed, too. He just kissed Lance McClain.

“What happens now?” Lance mumbled into the crook of Keith’s neck.

“I guess we go tell the others?” He replied.

Lance smirked and pulled away. “Tell them what, exactly?”

Keith blushed, averting his gaze to the ground. Having no previous relationship experience doesn’t exactly make him an expert. Shouldn’t Lance be the one answering these questions?

He was not expecting the gentle tug on his hand. He looked up at Lance, who stared back at him with a small smile on his face. He laughed.

“Come on, you goof. I want to brag about my new boyfriend and his fire powers.”

And off they ran.

Obviously, it contradicts current canon. But ya know my children need to stop playing musical lions. I know it’s important for character development, but I still miss this :(

I’m so glad to have gotten the pleasure to write this wip! I feel terrible because I discovered this post about ice powers langst by @mcclqins literally over a year ago... Procrastination at it’s finest, I guess? Mcclqins, I’m so grateful for your follow, and I’m SO SO SO SORRY that it took me this long to make it. I hope it lives up to your expectations!!!

[galvatronsthighs]

Continuing from here: (x) “Greetings” The strangely familiar mecha spoke, cocky grin stretched wide, “my name is Megatron and you’re all going to die” “G-Galvatron? What is this?” Sky-Byte “You’re, uh or rather you WERE Megatron… weren’t you?” “I think Galvatron has something to explain” Optimus stepped in.

“Wh-what!? Why are you all looking at me when HE’S here to kill us all!” The pale mecha backed away from his former nemesis and former SIC. “Oh no no” The being that claimed to be Megatron held their hands up, “Do go on, I’ll wait I want to hear this go on Gigatron tell the-” “YOU can’t call me THAT anymore!” Galvatron bristled, wings flaring as he stepped forth as if ready to fight the strange apparition of a bot, “It’s Galvatron, it always HAS been Galvatron” “Oh, still touchy, aren’t we!” He cackled. “Gigatron? What’s he talking about?” Sky-byte stood nervously behind his commander, this was just meant to have been a portal inspection to see if any more monsters appeared, not another Cybertronian!. “I’ve heard that name before” Optimus mumbled. “What? Where?” Sky-Byte eagerly snapped at the first opportunity of some sort of explanation. “If what I HAVE heard is true, it’s nothing pleasant” Prime’s voice didn’t raise a jolt. “Oh, deary me, are you still that useless you’re going to make ME explain for you?” ‘Megatron’ made a mock gasp gesture before his body crumbled, it cracked and broke up into a red-tinged smoke which immediately reformed again a inche before Galvatron, the entire process happening before an optic could be shuttered, “Murderer” That seemed to set Galvatron off and the now-dubious-commander of the Predacons surged forwards, shoulder hitting roughly into the newcomers body and sending them both flying. Except instead of clattering to the floor ‘Megatron’ burst into smoke again letting Galvatron smash into the ground and scrape forwards. With his back to him ‘Megatron’ spun around and hit Galvatron with a stream of energy paralysing him and keeping him out the way. “Well that won’t work twice now will it?” The new guy had such an air of arrogant cockiness to him, but it was the kind of cockiness of someone who knew they had something to back it up. He sauntered over to the gathered group, it was almost forgotten that there was a group there as they stood on in stunned silence at the bizarre scene unfolding before them. “By the damn AllSpak! You all should’ve known it wasn’t me!” ‘Megatron’ roared in anger, “Look at those pathetic Scraplets!” He screamed a gaseous blast of energy streaming at the Predacon trio who yelled in surprise the combined gang of Autobots and Predacons only just making it out the way as the blast tore a huge chunk out of the ground, flinging Slapper and Prowl off into the distance. “I’d never make a team of such incompetent cannon fodder! And you!” He turned on Sky-Byte a gaseous tendril flying out and ripping the shark from the sky, “Look at you” he sneered, “Did you even finish your command training with Thrust? You puny jellyfish” Sky-byte yelped in horror at the question and whined at the insult “H-h-h-how did you know!?” he wailed. ‘Megatron’ snarled as he threw the shark, tossing him into the advancing Team Bullet Train as they tried to jump him. “BECAUSE I AM THE TRUE MEGATRON YOU FOOLS” “Back off my bro’s!” Gas Skunk charged the mech but green lightning bristled from Megatron and speared the furious skunk, a spinal-strut shattering blast only averted by X-Brawn swinging in to grab the terrified Predacon mid-air. “You’re all pathetic… PATHETIC, I can’t believe anyone would believe I’d take orders from the Predacon council let alone make a team from the rejects of my own army, that council listens to ME, and none of you four are worth the Energon rations I deigned to give you” ‘Megatron’ sneered, “Teaming up with these Autobots is just more proof you’re worse than the scum scraped from the bottom of a barrel!” The smokey entity went fuzzy before reforming as a larger more monstrous form, the bestial creature bellowed before charging the group. Whatever this person was, if it truly was Megatron, it fought like a true warlord, devastating brutality combined with the power to take on a non-solid form made him hard to hit but his hits went harder than the gang ever felt before. Immediately the other Autobots, not present and the remaining Cyclonus were summoned to battle. ‘Megatron’ was overwhelmed by enemies, but he didn’t care, he seemed to relish the battle, a few times he let the blasts hit, chortling at their feeble attempts. No matter what they tried it seemed useless, he just wasn’t affected by anything they threw at him, forming a impassable wall, keeping them all at bay. It wasn’t a fight it was a play for him. “Guys I think I’ve noticed a pattern” Team Bullet Train had attempted to hit them with their combined form but ‘Megatron’ had glanced past every attack, now two of them stood behind Midnight Express as he spoke, “He’s not the powerhouse he’s making out to be, he’s only letting one attack hit him, never any combined blasts, nor any blasts from our combined forms either. It must be for a reason!” “You’re right, ever since I powered up he’s been giving me a wide berth too” Optimus nodded to him, “T-AI what do you make of this?” The holographic battle computer’s AI came over all of their intercoms “I’ve been examining him as you’ve fought him and you have definitely picked up on a distinct pattern if anything he’s also examining all of you fighting too, simply playing a game of cat and mouse!” “Well, how do we get rid of him! He’s scary!” Dark Scream cowered behind Sky-Byte who was doing a somewhat adequate job of pretending he wasn’t scared of the ghostly mecha too. “The portal he came through is still open, he’s drawing power from there, I don’t know from WHAT he’s drawing power from but it’s awful whatever it is, It just has some kind of sickly aura to it, and it’s limitless” “That’s impossible” Prowl growled, “No power source is limitless!” “Well, whatever he’s getting power from is certainly near-limitless at the very least then” The hologram shrugged, “I can’t say much more than that” “If the power is coming from the portal then I know what we must do” Optimus whispered, careful of the gleeful ‘Megatron’ whose attention seemed elsewhere, “We need to open a space bridge over his portal, it should cancel his out, or at the very least I hope it will” “Best plan we got at the very least” Cyclonus nodded, “Keep ‘im distracted as yer computer lassie cancels his power out” “Uh, right” Optimus nodded. “GRAAAAAAAAH” ‘Megatrons’ roar brought all their attention back to him. “M’lady!” Cyclonus cawed in shock and panic. Galvatron had indeed risen again, with the others distracted by their distanced group huddle of let’s-make-a-new-plan, ‘Megatron’ had turned his attention back to the downed Galvatron as evidenced by a patchwork of whip-like lashings upon the mecha’s back. Except now Galvatron had bitten back, taking on his ‘Devil Saurer’ mode the beast form had it’s paws wrapped around ‘Megatrons’ chest and waist his jaws clamped over his shoulder, causing the metal to buckle and crumble. “Ugh, you at least got more powerful since we last met, but I suppose leeching power from others does that, hm?” ‘Megatron’ squirmed almost struggling to free himself. “You should know!” Galvatron hissed, suddenly dropping to the ground. A familiar purple light shrouded the area around them specks of light falling to the ground as gravity in the affected area was warped. ‘Megatron’ was flung up into the air before being flung at high-speeds back to the ground but he avoided the attack by morphing into mist again. Galvatron rose up before furiously blasted the ground with fire, a flame that danced and pulsed under the pressure of the augmented gravity within the circle but billowed out viciously when it left the area, it made approaching them dangerous. Yet as the fire continued, ‘Megatron’ was unable to reform under the dual-gravity and heat assault but it left another problem. “T-AI, can you activate a space bridge?” Optimus barked over the comms. “I can try but the gravitational distortion is making it hard to pinpoint!” She warned. “Just do it!” Optimus gestured and gradually the large team shifted closer to the mini-arena trying their best to avoid the baying flames the poured out from it, “He can’t keep up this assault much longer” He was right, coolant dripped off Galvatron like bullets, whizzing to the ground at rapid speeds due to the gravity but evaporating before they even got close from the fire. The wingbeats that kept Galvatron airborne were getting slower and more laborious as his altitude slowly dropped. Soon the rip in space that ‘Megatron’ had entered through fizzled dangerously. The dwindling flames layering the ground leapt anxiously almost fomring a face as ‘Megatron’ cried out. “No! My lord needs it bigger to enter, not smaller!” He howled, his gaseous body billowed out wildly a tendril wrapping around Galvatron’s leg and throwing him to the ground immediately ceasing the dual-attack. Instead of reforming, however, ‘Megatron’ leapt through the portal. As soon as it closed the Space bridge sprung up in its place, leaving silence in its wake. Looking over the motley crew Optimus told T-AI to get ready for a lot of patch-ups. By the time everyone had their dents, gashes and bangs patched up Galvatron was canveniently nowhere to be seen. Cyclonus slipping out was less subtle as his tail feathers were spotted turning a corner. Optimus held up a hand, signalling the others to stay and followed. Galvatron had snuck off to a rather unused room, but it seemed to be one their sparklings had taken a liking to and had been blissfully unaware of the fuss of the outside world. Still in his large Devil Saurer mode, Galvatron had the twins between his forelegs, wings gently curled around them, as Cyclonus leant on one leg also cooing over them. Optimus watched the parents for a while, aware of Galvatron trying to ignore him. “What was that!?” Optimus jumped a little as Sky-Byte jumped up having followed him regardless of his ‘stay put’ order. “I’d rather not discuss it” Galvatron bowed his head. “T-AI broadcast this across the base” Optimus made a gesture for the AI, “This is serious, we’re not leaving until you tell us exactly what your history with that mecha is” Galvatron flinched and curled in on himself, the sparklings peeped curiously and Cyclonus patted his neck. “O...of course he’d whip me…” The ten-shifter whispered mostly to himself, claws fumbling with nothing on the floor. “What’s Gigatron? How did that guy know about Thrust? Why does he have, what I assume to be, your name?” Sky-Byte rattled off the questions burning at his processor. “Gigatron is the name given to a specific type of SLAVE, Sky-Byte, Or did you really think I just happened to have so many alternate modes? The more modes a slave has the more use they are to their master!” Galvatron hissed, “I was Megatron’s personalised Gigatron slave, he ordered me to look like him and be a powerful plaything.” “Uh, buh, what?” Sky-Byte suddenly shrank down and looked around as if a magical sign would appear and explain it all in an instant. “I… I thought as much” Optimus mumbled. “Yeah… Happy? That WAS the real Megatron, back from the dead somehow…” Galvatron’s toothed lip curled as he thought about it, “He used me as a toy for whatever whim and desire he wanted, to fight or play, to bring him fuel and entertain him. I had no life, he didn’t even care that I had a name, he never called me it, he only called me ‘Gigatron’ forever making sure I knew I was nothing more than his pet!” “Now I understand your desperation to change your perceived fate” Optimus spoke putting on his best, most gentle voice. “Well, fine, you want the rest of the story, here we go. I snapped, okay? I couldn’t take it and when he was busying himself ranting at me for another mistake I jumped him, I managed to smash the back of his stupid helm open on the floor and I didn’t stop, I kept going. It burned me, my slave coding ripped away at my internal systems and burned at my processor! It was agony but I couldn’t take it! His incessant demands and constant whipping! I just… I killed him… And where did that leave me? I was a slave who managed to break my control coding juuust enough to kill my master, I’d be slaughtered the moment I left. So I lied, I used my similar appearance to my advantage… I claimed to be Megatron. It sort of worked, Megatron was an arrogant blowhard, he had his army, his empire so he lazed around his mansion all day and hardly made public appearances doing nothing but bathing in his luxurious ill-gotten gains. So not that many people really knew what he truly looked like. So I got away with it for a while, when people made a remark I passed it off as getting some upgrades and modifications. Yet, my slave coding still functioned, it needed orders, and luck saved me! As some bots were getting suspicious the Predacon council alerted me to rumours of a super weapon on some barely noticeable planet far away, so I took it, the order satisfied my slave coding and got me away from the main citadel. As for troops, of course, I picked the ones who’d never recognise me for what I really was, they were all the runts of their respective field with little privilege never given a chance… Thrust was going to fail you, by the way, Sky-Byte, your panicking and his short fuse just didn’t… yeah… I just ran away and dragged you all with me! Then I realised the Autobots were here, so I did as little as possible and hid in the base whenever I could fearful that they would recognise me for what I was, and I forced you all away and tried to ignore you all so I could distance myself further from my perceived problems… But of course, I felt as if I had Fortress Maximus I could use him to rule! Then no one would make me their slave ever again! I wouldn’t be captured and executed for killing Megatron! I thought he’d be a key…” “And then when you thought you found a way to change fate you abandoned Fortress Maximus in favour of something that could ‘change your fate’, it makes sense now” Optimus nodded. “F… fail me” Sky-Byte merely whispered to himself, “Slaves? Falsehoods? B... but Meg-ah, Galvatron! I… you… is this true? I… Thought this was so much more, while Thrust was teaching me the ways of being a commander, I, I had such a sense of unfulfilled yearning! I felt like there was something missing! Then when you offered me a place on this team it felt like I had a purpose was this all for nothing!?” “Oh, Sky-Byte… I’m afraid to some degree, yes. I lead you all off on a merry little adventure for nothing and then I was cruel and shut you all out emotionally as I feared the repercussions of my actions, but, we did find Fortress Maximus! We did have a mission! I was just not the right one to lead you all… I hope I did at least, even if it was founded on a lie, give you some sense of purpose to fill that emptiness. I hope the four of you found some sort of happiness...” “But Galvatron” Optimus stepped in cutting off any response from the Predacon, his tone dark, angry, “If you started your life knowing nothing but slavery and cruelty, why did you corrupt the Autobot stasis pods? Why did you fill them with evil!? Why did you strip them of agency!?” “What!? Prime you can’t be serious!? Fill them with ‘evil’, are you listening to yourself? They were already dead! All of them!” Galvatron looked up at him a glare in his optics. “No, they were alive! We all saw it!” Optimus snapped back. “Get a grip Prime! They died before we even found them! I merely planted an AI of my own design into them! It animated the bodies and copied the remaining lines of code in their processors to mimic attitudes! The AI just… got a bit too ahead of itself, started running errors and acting out on its own. I just reset them when I got them back. They were walking talking shells!” “T… Then Scourge…” “That’s right he’s likely just dropped and reverted back to his lifeless shell already. You’d think I could inflict the same thing I suffered to others?” “How would a slave know how to program AI?” Sky-Byte piped up and immediately looked away when Galvatron glared at the mention of ‘slave’. “I had free time when Megatron didn’t need me or was at rest, I busied myself with books and tinkering with devices, I’d been making prototypes of my little bats for millennia!” His wings puffed out with a sense of pride. “And in the end, you bungled everything and started treating your own underlings more like your own protoforms despite your lies to them” Optimus seemingly accepted his answer or at least had done for now and his tone had returned to something lighter. “That’s not a lie is it Galvatron?” Sky-Byte, however, took a more morose tone. “What!? No!” Galvatron flared up again. “Ey don’t think that of y’ mother” Cyclonus piped up for the first time for the entire story. He’d picked his place long ago and it was at Galvatron’s side regardless of his past. “No, no, that wasn’t a lie Sky-Byte, I… I did get attached to you all, I didn’t want to, I thought it would all end in tears, I mean if this failed I’d certainly have been found out and killed and then you’d be left alone with the knowledge of… this, I didn’t want that I didn’t want you left alone, so I tried to keep you away. But, we’re all the screw ups of our times and I couldn’t help but see parts of myself in you all and want you to be safe. It just took featherbutt here to finally make me come to terms with it and notice your reciprocating behaviour and the somewhat unintentional low-level bond that was building” Galvatron sagged down again, looking to the floor his head only turned away slightly when Sky-Byte approached him. The Predacon said nothing advancing on his former leader, his face was droopy too as he processed all of this information and would likely spend a while longer thinking about it, but for now, he knelt down and flopped against Galvatron’s free side and silently curled up next to him only reaching out a little as Rupture scooted over to peep and grab at their favoured brother. Optimus sighed, he knew he wasn’t getting anything else out of him today, and might not for a while yet, he uttered a small thank you before telling T-AI to cut the audio feed. He quietly headed back to the command centre by himself only briefly passing the Predacons who rushed to join their patchwork family. He could believe a lot of the story, his suspicions about ‘gigatron’ were correct, but that still left some answers. How did Megatron come back? How did he get these powers? And, who was this ‘lord’ of his? All in due time likely. Personality: Megatron is used to being ‘lord of an empire’, so he is arrogant and lazy, very content to let his new monster lackeys pick up the slack whenever he simply does not want to bother getting his hands dirty. After his death, his aggression only mounted, rather than conquer and rule all he’d rather see it all die and be reduced to nothing. Total and utter destruction is his pleasure, as is pain, he greatly enjoys tormenting and playing with his enemies and cares not for the emotions of those around him unless they’re cowering in fear. He is a frightening madman bent on brutal senseless destruction. Notes/Extra:

It might be obvious for some but his ‘lord’ is Unicron.

The creature from the previous part scanned Galvatron’s processor as it drained his energy and Unicron picked out Megatron from his memories to bring back and make his pawn. However, Megatron turned out to now share Unicron’s views upon his resurrection and doesn’t need to be tortured into obeying, he wants to see everything destroyed.

He can no longer transform but he can reform his body at will into whatever he needs, within reason.

His goal is to open a portal wide enough so Unicron can enter their realm and consume it all.

[sending-the-message]

My friend has been living in an alternate reality - (Part 11) by Mr_Outlaw_

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

Part 4

Part 5

Part 6

Part 7

Part 8

Part 9

Part 10

ENTRY 34:

It’s been really quiet around here after the drone incident. Everybody seemed a bit confused at first. Although Smoker tried explaining the nature of Neo-Civitus to them, they didn’t seem to want to believe him. It took a few other people with knowledge of the place to finally convince everybody that this was not good news. Smoker also went on to explain that the drones meant they could be coming in weeks… or years. In other words, we could never anticipate their arrival. I asked him why they’d even be interested in this place at all.

“Resources. Colonization” He told me. “Most likely resources, though.”

He seemed incredibly worried as he told me this, but I couldn’t understand why. I mean, if the only thing that they were after were some resources, then we’d just let them take it, right? No problems there.

“No.” He said sternly. “They don’t work like that. You see, nobody likes giving up their shit to an invading force, right? But nobody would ever even bother fighting back if they knew what kind of power Neo-Civitus has. Problem is… most people just don’t. That’s why they always retaliate at first. The battle never lasts very long.

He sighed, pausing for a bit before continuing. “Here’s the thing with Neo-Civitus… there’s never any paperwork with them. No deals, no negotiations, nothing. Wherever they go, they eliminate the native population, no questions asked. It’s just simpler that way. Besides… most islands that they land on are incredibly hostile, anyways. There’s no risks being taken with them.”

However, even as everybody started to prepare for the oncoming assault, Smoker just scoffed at them. “There’s no point.” He explained. “Once they land, we’re all dead. It's hopeless.”

“So what are you going to do? Just give up, let ‘em kill you?” I asked him.

He furrowed his brow. “Nah… I’ll be long gone before they arrive. There’s a lot of dignified ways to die. But fighting a pointless battle… that just ain’t one of them. I’ll have a better chance out there as opposed to staying here.”

Carrying nothing but a small sack of rations, one rifle and a few knives, he left just a few days later. He didn’t tell us where he was going. But... I'm pretty sure that he wasn't sure himself. Before his departure, he asked me if I wanted to join him. Despite the grim reality that seemed to be waiting for me, I declined his offer. I suppose that there was just a small part of me that thought he was bullshitting about this whole thing. But in retrospect, that didn’t make any sense. I guess I just didn’t want to deal with the horrors out there on this island. I guess I’m just taking my chances.

But… Kunz did eventually recover yesterday. So I guess that’s good news.

ENTRY 35:

A few more months have passed. At this point, we’ve prepared to the best of our abilities. However… Smoker’s words still linger for me.

“There’s no point”.

What if he’s right? Hell, why would he be lying? He left for fuck’s sake.

What’s worse is that nobody’s really explained it to Jolan yet. She’s confused as to why everybody’s so tense these days. She knows that we might have to fight some people sooner or later, but she has no idea what the scale of it just might be. I should break the news to her but… I really don’t want to.

ENTRY 36:

A few more months have passed, but we’ve finally come up with something. Smoker said that they’re most likely coming here for resources, right? Well this place is filled to the brim with zombies and other shit. That’ll pose a nuisance for sure. Not the ideal area to harvest/mine. You see, the creatures here are mostly attracted to sound. The more we make, the more congested the ground below us seems to be. So here’s the plan:

We’ve stockpiled plenty of food already, enough to last us months. We’ll start creating a lot of noise and draw a massive crowd of them over. The idea here is that once Neo-Civitus sees this, they’ll deem the effort to not be worth it and just leave us alone. It might work… actually I have no idea. It’s worth a shot, at least.

ENTRY 37:

It’s going to happen soon. A few hours ago, about three more drones flew over. Two seemed to be mapping out the forests and surrounding areas while the 3rd hovered around where we were. We didn’t bother shooting it down this time. We wanted it to see the hordes of undead piled at the base of our towers. We wanted to convince them to call everything off right there. They left about five minutes after they came, so that’s probably good news. Now we just wait and see.

ENTRY 38:

I don’t know how long it’s been since that last entry. I don’t know what I’m doing anymore. I don’t even know where I am. Fuck…

It was about a week since we sighted those three drones when they finally came. Now… I don’t know what I was expecting. What the hell anybody was expecting, for that matter. We were prepared to come face to face with the fucking cavalry. An army, if you will. But no. It was a single goddamn aircraft. I could barely comprehend what it even looked like. It was futuristic, but not in the traditional sense of the word. It was alien. Otherworldly. Not big, but beyond functional. It nearly resembled some kind of pod and moved with such smoothness you’d think that it was being controlled remotely.

As the shiny vehicle descended onto the shore about a quarter mile away from us, it started getting swarmed. It just sat there for maybe about five minutes. At that point, it had become buried underneath a pile of undead flesh. We were optimistic for a second. We couldn’t fathom how they were getting out of that. But then we witnessed the solution.

The sound was sharp at first, gradually devolving into a low hum. The pod emitted a light so bright that we all had to avert our eyes for a few seconds. When we returned our perception to the shore, we all went into a collective shock. The zombies had been cleared out. But that’s an understatement. They were eviscerated. No limbs, no bones, nothing. Just a red mist lingering in the air around it. We didn’t even know how to react. The undead that had been surrounding our towers started trudging their way over to the shore, attracted by the noise.

The doors to the space-age machine opened up. Out stepped three figures. Just three. That was it. They looked to be wearing some kind of armor. But they weren’t the massive, clunky kind that the guards at the prison had. Like the ship that they came in, it was advanced beyond our comprehension. They were sleek, black suits that seemed to bend and twist perfectly with every subtle movement they made. Their helmets resembled futuristic gas-masks, with two large circular eye holes that glowed with a menacing shade of red. The rifles they were carrying looked compact and deadly. They were also a very strange color – a dark bluish-green that seemed reflect every source of light that bounced off of it.

They walked for about five seconds before ascending into the air. It looked so seamless. Their boots didn’t even seem to have any thrusters, so it was unclear how this was possible. As they floated towards us, they dropped tiny blue orbs onto the ground below. As soon as they landed, every zombie within our perceivable vicinity appeared to start being electrocuted. Albeit, not for long. They dropped in seconds. As the stench of burning rotten flesh filled the air, the super-soldiers descended onto our towers. One landed just a few feet away from me. I saw what I assumed to be his name and position etched onto the barrel of his weapon – CPT. RIZZER. I caught of a glimpse of his suit up close. It was more intricate than I initially thought. It looked more like an EXO-skeleton than anything. It was outfitted with pistols and Tasers, amongst other things. There was writing on his chest. In big white letters, it read:

“NEO-CIVITUS: RECON DIV. 34”

He was also larger than any human I’d ever seen before. Larger than the Warden, even. He must have been around 9 feet tall.

They didn’t move at first, seemingly just observing us. At this point, I was holding onto Jolan tight. I also exchanged glances with Kunz, Lauren and Kagenori. It was almost a silent acknowledgement. We’d been through so much together. If these were our last moments alive, we wanted to make sure that we recognized this. I wasn't even prepared for what happened next.

Before I even had time to react, I looked in front of me to see the barrel of Rizzer’s weapon aimed directly at me. Or so I thought it was. I closed my eyes, bracing for bullets that were surely about to penetrate my skin. I heard the harsh automatic buzz of the rifle, but I felt no pain. Instead, I only heard screaming from all around me. And warm liquid soaking into the side of my shirt. I knew what it was. I looked down at Jolan’s limp upper body. Apparently, the rounds were so strong that they had cut her in half. Without being given even a second of time to grief, I felt a sharp, numbing sensation in my thigh. It eventually started to make its way up through my hips and then into my shoulder. I fell to the floor, hitting my head hard as I did. While I could still feel everything above my neck, everything below that seemed to be out of commission. I couldn’t even turn away from the horrific sights in front of me. They were killing en masse - women, the elderly, even children, without remorse.

A few minutes later, they picked up the ones they deemed fit enough to survive and tossed us onto a single tower. Everybody else seemed to be affected by the paralyzing agent as well. I could see Kunz and Kagenori out of the corners of my eyes… but no Lauren. We watched as the three soldiers walked around on the ground, planting what looked like small charges into the dirt. By this time, more zombies had wandered their way into the settlement area, but the soldiers didn’t even seem to acknowledge them. The creatures would bite and scratch against their armor, but it would do less than nothing. Eventually, the soldiers stepped back and one of them projected a hologram out of his wrist. I couldn’t tell what exactly he was looking at, but I had an idea. He pressed some virtual buttons before holding up five fingers. Once they were all down, a mind-jolting explosion echoed through the air. Bits of dirt and zombie entrails flew everywhere, pelting us in the face.

When the smoke cleared, we looked back down to see an enormous black pit in place of what was once solid ground. However, as I looked at it even closer, I realized that it wasn’t empty space. It was bubbling. It was liquid. The first thought that popped into my head was oil. That was a good a guess as any, after all. Soon after, one of the soldiers flew back up to the tower we were involuntarily sitting in. It was Rizzer again. He took out a large syringe-looking device filled with dark-red liquid.

“Don’t squirm. This’ll hurt a lot.”

He injected it into a few guys sitting around me before I finally felt the needle plunge into my forearm. What followed was an intense burning sensation that seemed to last forever. However, I seemed to be gaining the feeling back into my limbs as well. A few of us tried escaping, but were shot down without hesitation. The rest of us just sat tight. After he had finished up with everybody, he addressed us directly.

“You have two options here. Die… or do manual labor. Seems pretty obvious to me. You guys might be pissed right now… but let me tell you that I do not give a fuck. These things happen.”

As it turns out, we were forced to pump the dark liquid through tubes connected to this elaborate looking machine and then transfer them into metal barrels and then finally load them onto a larger aircraft that would come around once a week. However, the liquid itself was a lot less viscous than oil. It also seemed to be bubbling indefinitely. Safe to say, I had no idea what it was. I still don’t.

The only good thing that came out of this was that the soldiers had set up a moderate sized electric barrier around our settlement as to stop any additional creatures from interfering with our work. However, we also weren’t getting out. They also provided us with food. Unsurprisingly, they were just more energy bars. However... these at least tasted decent. Other than that though… it was absolute hell. It was prison all over again. By the time the first month had expired, almost half of us had committed suicide. In an apparent attempt to combat this, one of the soldiers announced that once we’d finished up, we would be given a place to stay in Neo-Civitus. Most of us seemed to buy it, because worker morale skyrocketed right after he’d said that. However… I didn’t. I’d always been good at reading people. And they were full of shit. They weren’t planning on taking us back with them. They were going to waste us as soon as they’d gotten enough of that damn liquid. That was the only outcome that could have been waiting for us.

I don’t know why I didn’t just end it myself. Blind hope, I suppose. But it was also something else. By all odds, I should’ve been dead at that point. Everybody around me seemed to be biting the dust, but I was still alive somehow. I shouldn’t have been. I still shouldn’t be. Something must have been working in my favor. Whether it was some kind of divine intervention or just dumb luck was irrelevant. It was doing the job for me. This train of thought kept me going. Somehow, I was getting out of this alive.

Turns out… I was right.

I don’t know how much time had gone by when it happened. Must have months, at the very least. Or a year. I don’t really know.

One day, we were working away when we started to feel the ground rumbling beneath our feet. We looked at the crater of liquid. At that point, we’d depleted a considerable amount of it. It must have been at least a few meters lower than when we started. The rumbling only got more severe. The Soldiers themselves didn’t seem to know what was going on. Eventually, it got to the point where we could barely stand up. The soldiers lifted into the sky, trying to make sense of it. The ground finally settled a few minutes later. All was still again. Without knowing what else to do, they just instructed us to go back to pumping. However, as soon as we flipped on the machine again, the ground beneath us started cracking.

We all stepped away on instinct. Suddenly, an enormous black creature burst of out the ground. I stumbled back, but got a better look at it in the process. It was a massive worm-like thing with slimy black flesh and sharp appendages sticking out at various angles. It burst into the air, lunging up at one of the surprised soldiers. At that point, all hell broke loose. The worm was followed by another. And then another. During the chaos, I remembered something. I had hidden the last few shards from the prison in a hidden compartment on one of the towers.

I rushed up there to look for it. I found it just as soon as the tower started collapsing. I cut myself mere moments before hitting the ground again. I looked up, witnessing the surreal scene in front of me. My fellow prisoners were mostly dead, being swallowed up by the worms at a torrid pace. I saw Kunz trying to hop over the now-broken electrical barrier before being cut open by one of their appendages. The three soldiers were throwing everything that they had at the creatures, shooting them down one-by-one. But they just kept coming up. As I was taking all of this in, something hit me from behind and flung me into a tree. As I lifted myself back up, I saw one of the soldiers being overwhelmed. The two others seemed to shout something to each other before one of them took a rectangular device off of his belt. He pressed one of the buttons on it before tossing it down onto the ground. As soon as he did this, they flew out of there, leaving their fellow soldier behind.

At first, I thought the device was going to be an explosive of sorts. I couldn’t have been more wrong. I watched as it opened up and a dark-purple light began emanating out of it. It started growing and growing, engulfing the surrounding area. I started running when I realized that it wasn’t stopping. However, as soon as I got up, I felt myself being tugged backwards. I turned around, expecting to see one of the soldiers, but there was nothing there. Just the purple void getting ever so bigger. I fell to the ground, clawing at the soil as I was sucked into an unknown fate. As the light consumed me, I felt weightless for a second. However, I couldn’t breathe. I looked around, only to see dark, vague shapes floating around me in a sea of purple nothingness. After about maybe twenty seconds, I blacked out.

I awoke an unknown amount of time later, face down in what I assumed to be sand. I groggily got up and looked around… but I could barely see in front of me. I was surrounded by what appeared to be a heavy, orange fog. It was pretty evident that I was in some sort of desert, but every other detail was obscured. I only realized that my hearing was gone when it started to come back. That’s when I heard the sounds of distant screams all around me.

Suddenly, I could make out a shape in the distance. It was hard to tell what it was, but it seemed to be getting closer to me. Getting too close. It was one of those worms that had burst out of the ground. I jumped out of the way just in time to avoid it as it lunged towards me. I scrambled backwards, as it buried into the sand. It slithered around, trying to regain its bearings before it seemed to locate me. As it tried to lunge at me again, it looked as if it was being held back by something. It tried a few more times before a heavy, guttural roar emanated from somewhere just behind it. Suddenly, the worm was dragged backwards and out of my sight. I didn’t catch a glimpse of what did it.

I got up and started running away, but I really had no idea where I was going. Hell, I didn’t know what the fuck this place even was. About every step I’d take, I’d hear these ungodly sounds coming from every angle around me. Every time I’d see a moving shape in the distance, I’d change directions. It took a while, but I finally stumbled upon a ramshackle cabin – it was the first indication that humans must exist somewhere in this place. It was old and rotting, but I was tired as hell, so I decided to go in and take refuge for a while. To my surprise, there was a bed in there, along with a pail of water in the corner. Although it was warm from the boiling temperature outside, it tasted like heaven to me.

That’s where I am right now. After writing this down, I’m going to need to pass out. I’m so tired. I don’t know how the fuck I got here. Maybe that device the soldier threw down was a teleportation mechanism of sorts? Fucking hell… then where did it take me to?

[kn1ghthawk]

The New Normal

It had been a week now. Sanctuary was fortified, the Abernathy farm was a fortress. Codsworth had been found and brought up to speed. Concord had met the same scrapping end as Olivia. With Sturges and Victor acting as the gear heads, they were scrapping and throwing everything on the sleds. Jun and Marcy walked the path from concord to sanctuary in the power suits, the cores removed to mere pneumatic strength but slow going. To keep them safe, Preston and Codsworth acted as guards to keep the Long’s safe as everything not welded down got brought back. They had the vertibird from concord and the one on the way to Olivia to strip for components as well.

He was still walking with too much of a limp, so it was time to look for a proper doctor. There was one in some place called diamond city, where the old woman kept pushing him to go, but a traveling merchant named Carla told him of a doctor in bunker hill. Knowing bunker hill as the old war memorial, he decides to head there first. But since he is heading east anyways, Preston asks him to head to tenpines bluff on the way to an old radio tower directly east then straight south to find bunker hill easily enough the first time. As the doctor is sometimes known to travel out that direction anyways, he might get lucky. Checking over the guns and armor again, he starts to head out, his leathers a bit thicker than before, and some simple upgrades for a heavier pistol, longer barrel and compensator with a targeting ring to aim in the general area of what he wanted to kill. He still had the bug-bopper rifle, just in case with a new scope set on top. He wasn't alone, thankfully, with the shepard named ‘Dogmeat’ by everyone else and his technically oldest friend codsworth.  Eastwards was relatively quiet, not even any wild game with all the noise they had been making so far. With his leg not getting any better, they decided to stick to the roads, walking through concord yet again and heading east to the bedford railroad. It was there that Victor encountered the most rancid scent he could believe. It almost smelled like dead bodies or rotting meat, it was similar to the scent of the two headed cow or the man in the hood with radiation burns. The train was there and it looked like it had been there since the bomb dropped with no plans of moving again, some of the other rail cars had not fared so well and it was a blessing they approached from the south to the tower. There was a computer still able to function with some strange notes in it, using codewords, safe drops, and the like. But from the window he saw a disgusting sight: It looked like a emaciated corpse, someone who had starved to death, but it was still moving, crouched down and clawing at a body. He took aim with his sights but didnt pull the trigger. He had no silencer and as screwed up as this new world was, that might not be the only one here. Ordering the others to stay, he belly-crawled closer through the station, noting a few more of the putrid people not even talking, just growling like animals. He noticed an old oil barrel and recalled the olivia station as he took aim and fired, letting the fumes turn to flames and engulf these creatures as he made his way up a fallen tree trunk to get some space. Well he certainly kicked a hornets nest for sure, but these things seemed to lack the ability to easily reason as he took what little time he had to aim and take them off as they funneled up the same trunk he did. The flames and gunshots, not only allerted the remaining creatures, but his companions as well as the dog literally tackled into one from behind, bringing it to the ground and ripping its rotting right limb from the torso. Codsworth was a frighting display of flames and sawblades as it butchered through anything within range over four feet high. Between the three of them, they managed to remove the remaining creatures and take a minute to recover, Victor giving the dog first aid and codsworth producing some purified water to dress the wounds. By the time all was said and done, the area examined from front to back and all the chests gone through it was already getting dark, but that just made the campfire easier to see on the top of the hills. Making the march in the dark was unwanted, but a pathway was still able to be made out from something heavy trafficking through the spaces. There wasn't much to the farm to be honest. A few sheds and some rows of tomatoes made the Abernathy look incredible by comparison. As he approached, he announced he was part of the minutemen and allowed to come close enough to the fire to see a man in a white lab coat with two armed guards beside him. “That is an impressive brace you made for yourself, but I’m certain it is only making things worse. I’m Doc weathers and I’ll fix yer flat tire there for forty caps.” Not even bothering to negotiate, victor pulled out a little lunchbox he found and was keeping the caps in there 10,20, 30, 40, with 10 more on top to hope he did a decent job. The man with thinking black hair nodded to one of the guards to take the caps as he got to work, starting with a simple injection to numb the pain, then everything went dark. *** Vic woke up and the sun was out, his boot and brace were off and his leg wrapped in actual white bandages. He was laying on a mattress with dogmeat curled up by his side and codsworth standing vigil. “So good to see you awake, sir. You were in a worse case than you had let on. While you were under, they had to charge an additional fifty ‘caps’ to bring you back to full but I can see now you are right as rain! The settlers here are waiting to speak with you, something about the creatures we dispatched yesterday.” As if on cue, a man with short brown hair approached and tossed some sort of meat to the dog and a tato to victor himself. “Wanted to thank you, we helped move you over her so as to rest the spell. Apparently you already cleared out what we called for the minute men to take care of, so thanks for that. We’ll let everyone know the minutemen are back and taking care of trouble before it starts. By chance, you don't happen to have any other kinds of food on you? We are growing our own but it's hard going, we’d be willing to trade if you got anything else.” In an hour, he had given and gotten from them in trade since Codsworth had just handed over the whole cache of caps while the doctor was working, some of the Abernathy melons seeds growing in a patch and a fairly safe route for them to take to trade with the farmers he had established already. Since he was skilled enough to take on ‘ghouls’ as they were seemingly called, an apt name as any, they had problems with a raider just to the northeast just past the overpass he could see from the farm. The raider had power armor and a fatman, calling himself ‘Boomer’. Taking the chance, Victor waited till nightfall before heading over crossing down one side and up the other of the train track valley leading back to Bedford station. He inched his way out across the stone shelf and waited, and waited, watching through the scope he continued to wait, watching the power armors helmet sweep left and right meant he had to wait. Finally exhaustion overtook the leader as he took the power armor up the stairs in order to go to bed. All it took was a moment, all victor had was a moment. The shot rang out as the round split the crazy warkawk haircut. As soon as the man fell, everyone else started to scramble, but he knew what someone panicking would do and waited for the next one to run to their leader, either for the launcher or the suit, another round came in just under the arm in the gap of the armor and two were down before he had to abandon his shelf. Codsworth and the dog closed the distance to finish the third and an automated turret before Victor could even make it down there. And just like that, three more dead raiders, three less scum in the world. Unfortunately, there was a fourth, either positioned down the road or coming back from somewhere else, a lucky shot hit his armor over the shoulderblade hard enough to send victor spinning around and a second sent him flat on his back. A few more shots rang off of metal while victor stared at the sky before a flamethrower made the last one die screaming. A stimpack for the bruising and possible broken bones and victor crawled his way up the stairs to collapse on the mattress, kicking the dead away more out  of annoyance than horror. It was not comforting how easy it was getting to adapt to this new world.

[beatricethecat2]

if/then (2.0) -10

So here’s what happened…I wrote and rewrote this thing so many times it’s crazy. It became apparent Claudia and Myka’s conversation was pretty pivotal, and it needed space to flesh itself out but I tired to weave time in a way that meant we were going back a day in the middle of a chapter (I hope it works) so I wanted it all to go up at the same time. Then the chapter got overly long, so I split it into two for easier reading. That’s why it took so long to push this out, so sorry for the wait! Edited 11/24 and thanks so much if you are still reading!

Previously: part 1, part 2, part 3, part 4, part 5, part 6, part 7, part 8, part 9

Read first if you are new! gutted/sorted and wax/wane…if/then is a continuation of those two.

//////////////////////

Myka's typing slows to a stop as Helena touches her shoulders and kneads, gently, into tense muscles. As Helena's fingers dig deeper, she leans back in her chair, and her eyes flutter closed.

“We're ready to go, are you?” Helena says.

Myka's eyes snap open, and she taps the down arrow. “I need another half an hour, tops.”

“You said that fifteen minutes ago.”

“I was wrong,” Myka says, standing, kissing Helena in apology. “Go eat. I’ll catch up.”

“But Myka, crepes!” Christina exclaims, her tone beyond anything reasonable for breakfast. But Myka's not surprised as weeks ago they watched a documentary titled “Crepes and Castles." Christina's been obsessed with both ever since.

“I know! I’m sorry. I’ll make it up to you, I promise. You go ahead. Mine will have to wait.”

“Must you finish this very minute?” Helena asks.

“I really, really should,” Myka answers, smiling at Helena's mopish tone as she's clearly allying with Christina for effect. Helena knows she has obligations to fulfill even though the sale’s off, they discussed it briefly last night. "If I’d gotten up earlier, I’d be done by now, but someone wouldn’t let me.”

Myka fusses with Helena’s collar and folds it under, then smooths it flat. Helena looks down as a flush creeps across her cheeks.

“I’ll tell you a secret,” Myka says, skimming her fingers over the sides of Helena’s arms, leaning forward until her lips nearly touch Helena's ear. “I'm happy I stayed."

“Ugh, you two. My teeth are rotting all the way over here,” Claudia groans and looks at Christina. "No one’s getting crepes if you don’t get outta here soon. Come give your Aunt Claudia a hug.”

Christina barrels across the room and latches onto Claudia, who's lounging full-length across the couch.

“Sorry to miss the eats, but I got places to be."

“I know. You came to see your friend’s supercomputer.”

“I came to check up on your mom.” Claudia winks at Christina then narrows her eyes at Helena.

“Any thrilling revelations?”

“Nah. You’re pretty boring.”

“Boring and saccharine.”

“Double whammy,” Claudia says and turns back to Christina. "I’ll meet you later, and we’ll climb that tower.”

“Bridge,” Christina corrects.

“You said tower.”

“It is a rather well-known landmark, or have you not heard of it?" Helena points out.

“Smartypants,” Claudia says and sticks out her tongue. “Maybe we’ll lock her in the keep, just for fun.”

“Tower Bridge doesn’t have a keep. A keep is the stronghold of a castle. We learned that on the show,” Myka says, flashing a self-satisfied smile.

“Can we go to a castle with a keep?” Christina pleads.

“I bet the Tower of London does,” Myka says. “If there’s time, maybe we can go there after.”

Myka's smile withers at the sight of Helena's scolding eyes.

Christina shuffles towards Myka with her head hung low. “I want you to come with us now,” she says, wrapping her arms around Myka’s leg.

“I wish I could, sweetie, but Leena needs these files. And you need to eat before your batteries run out. You want them fully charged for today.”

“Please…"

Christina’s absurdly round puppy-dog eyes nearly sway Myka's resolve, but she holds firm. “Go with your mom.”

Christina looks down and pouts.

“Am I not a suitable breakfast date?” Helena asks.

“Yeah. But you didn't see the show.”

“I do recall an in-depth description over the phone. Why don’t we send photos and include Myka in the commentary.”

“I’d like that,” Myka says, smiling in a way she hopes placates Christina.

Christina’s pout wavers then recedes, and Myka breathes a sigh of relief.

“Put your coat on, love,” Helena says and lifts her own from the arm of the couch.

“I’ll finish sooner if I can,” Myka says, snatching Helena’s coat and holding it out for her to slip into. Helena spins around and lifts her arms up and Myka threads them through the sleeves. Myka buttons a few buttons then steps back, admiring the dashing figure Helena cuts in the garment.

“Full service this morning,” Helena says, sliding her hands into her pockets and posing for Myka’s benefit.

“Don’t forget your umbrella,” Myka says. She grabs the handle leaning up against the couch and hands it to Helena.

“Mom, come on!” Christina cries and grabs Helena by the wrist.

“Off we go,” Helena quips as she’s pulled away.

As the door closes, Myka steps towards the desk but slips on something underfoot. She bends down and picks up a white card then reads it's raised black text.

“Who's Bonnie Belski?” she asks.

“Bonnie who?" Claudia says.

“Belski.”

"Beats me. Where’d you find that?”

“Here,” Myka points to a spot very recently occupied by Helena.

“Must be H.G.’s. What else does it say?"

“There's an email and a number and...” Myka flips the card over and scowls at a second number scribbled in pen. She resumes her spot at the desk and types the name into her browser.

“Oh no,” she says, shaking her head, slumping back in her chair. “No way."

“No what?” Claudia says, hopping off the couch and scurrying behind her.

“Her.” Myka clicks on an image to enlarge.

“Wowsa. Who’s the glamazon?”

“One of the owners of the bar Helena works at. One who hits on her.”

“Ooooh, someone's jealous," Claudia jabs.

Myka scowls.

"It's no biggie. People hit on H.G. all-the-time. She’s like ‘whatevs.'”

“There’s just something about her, something familiar.”

Myka's seen what Claudia's referring to, but for some reason, this woman strikes an unsettling chord. She scrolls through images, and one, in particular, jumps out. "There. That’s Mrs. Frederic’s gallery.”

“And that’s her at some other art thing,” Claudia says, pointing at an adjacent photo.

“That’s Mrs. Frederic’s, too. I recognize the artist.” Myka clicks on the image and reads the caption. “It’s from an art fair, the one I was at this summer, in Basel.”

Did she meet Bonnie there? Maybe even talk to her? The same artist had a few pieces at Vanessa’s booth. She continues scrolling through, searching for other shots, but unfortunately finds none. But there are scores of others featuring Bonnie front and center, smiling the same, practiced smile at the opening of the bar, at a reception after a show, at a party on a boat...

“Claud, what exactly did Helena tell you about working for Macpherson?”

Myka continues scrolling as she waits for an answer then looks up at Claudia.

“Bit of a non-sequitur.”

“I guess. Humor me."

Claudia crosses her arms over her chest and squares her stance. “She sold old stuff to rich people and didn’t ask questions cos the bucks were rolling in. Then her wrists got slapped and boom, she’s deported.”

“Does that sound like the Helena you know?”

“You’re just now figuring out the whole thing’s hinky?”

“No, but…you’ve known her longer me. I jumped in the end.”

“I missed a lot of stuff when things weren’t cool between us. I know times were tough and she'd do anything for the kid.” Claudia looks down and shuffles a foot.

“It’s not your fault she got into this mess.”

“If I was less of a dick about Giselle, about a lot of things, she wouldn’t have been so dumb.”

“You don’t know that for sure."

“Yeah,” Claudia says. Her eyes go distant as if caught in a memory, then she tips her chin at Myka’s screen. “So what’s MacPherson got to do with babezilla?”

“Nothing, probably. Hopefully. But after seeing her here,” Myka says, pointing to Bonnie at the gallery, "I feel there’s a connection.”

“How?”

“This is going to sound crazy," Myka says, studying the photo before continuing. It’s odd she doesn’t recognize anyone but Bonnie but notes it was taken last year. There are repeat faces at the art fair, so maybe Bonnie knows the artist, or maybe, just maybe, she's being paranoid. “On second thought, it’s too crazy.”

“Aw, come on. Spill.” Claudia pulls up a chair and twirls it around then sits, legs straddling the back.

Myka thinks on this; Claudia’s involved, too, by proximity, but should she betray Helena's trust? Keeping secrets is what got Helena into this in the first place, so fewer secrets might be prudent in the long run. And the secret she’s keeping now—Helena meeting with Mrs. Frederic to keep her in Mrs. Frederic's good graces—is her fault. Helena would have steered clear if Myka wasn't involved.

“What if Bonnie's keeping tabs on Helena for Mrs. Frederic.”

“Blondie, a spy? Why? You said your boss was cool with H.G."

“I think she is."

“’Think’?"

“I…” Myka chews her bottom lip, holding on to Claudia’s questioning gaze. Maybe it’s better if Claudia knows so she’s not blindsided if something goes awry.

“Please don’t tell Helena I told you this.”

“Scouts honor," Claudia says, holding up two fingers.

Myka stares at Claudia’s fingers and takes a deep breath. “Helena told me she's been meeting secretly with Mrs. Frederic to help fight MacPherson’s appeal. I don't think she'd be of interest unless she was more involved with MacPherson than she said."

“I looked for dirt on ‘Emily Lake’ when H.G. went public.”

“And?”

“Nada. And I dug deep, which is sketchy as hell. As far as the internet’s concerned, Emily Lake doesn't exist.”

“I tried, too. Same here,” Myka says, with obvious annoyance. "Maybe we weren’t looking in the right places. My anonymous source gave me some research tips that could help. Maybe we should try again.“

“Bummer about that, by the way. H.G. said your sale’s off.” Claudia lays a hand on Myka’s shoulder. "I know you were banking on that bank to get over here, but something will work out.”

“Yeah,” Myka says, and looks down at the floor to fend off thoughts of disappointment.

“So these tips?”

“Right. A mix of rumors and facts, stuff like movements of shipments, patterns of certain buyers, historical documents. Through those, they could predict a client’s actions.“

“Creepy. How’d they find all this stuff?”

“My guess? It’s what they do, professionally."

“Like a narc?”

“Maybe, maybe not,” Myka says, feeling a little uneasy about her participation after saying it out loud. She was so focused, she didn't question the information, but she’s beginning to understand where Sally’s paranoia stems from.

"What’d you do with the info?”

“I pieced it together with decades of notes from previous researchers. This thing had been lost and found, on and off the market a million times since the 50’s.”

And suddenly it hits her, why everything’s been kept under wraps, that she’s a pawn in a larger game being played with or without her participation. And maybe she shouldn't have been so forthright because now she’s dragged Claudia into it all. Helena did say the business "twists you about and pits you against your allies,” but the question is, are her allies who she thinks they are? She swings around to face Claudia.

“I don’t know why I told you that. I shouldn’t have told you that. I haven’t told Helena. Please don’t tell her, or anyone, I told you any of this.”

“Mums the word,” Claudia says, in a fake British accent.

“I mean it, Claud. This is serious.”

“I know,” Claudia says, dropping her antics. “That’s a lot of stuff to keep under wraps. H.G. shouldn’t have put those meetings on you.”

“She didn’t. I dragged them out of her.”

“I mean she shouldn't have kept them from you in the first place."

"It’s…complicated,” Myka says, looking down at her hands. Claudia doesn’t know about Helena’s connection with Sally’s brother, or that Sally ousted Helena to Myka, or that—

“H.G., complicated? Totally. But you?” Claudia says. “You’re a straight shooter. You don't play those games."

Myka’s stomach churns. Claudia’s right...what has she gotten herself into?

“Look, I’m as much a part of this as you two, with the kid and all. You gotta keep me in the loop."

“Helena won’t like it. She says the less I know, the better.”

“H.G. can suck it. Don’t tell her I know.”

Claudia looks at Myka’s screen, then reaches across and clicks the down arrow, scrolling through photos of Bonnie.

“Scoot over. Lemme look something up.”

Myka moves to the side, and Claudia types the name of a store into the browser.

Myka raises a brow. “Hey, I buy stuff from there.”

“What you two do in the bedroom is none of my beeswax.”

“Not, like, racy stuff. They have bras that fit me.”

“TMI,” Claudia mumbles, holding up a hand while scouring the index of garments. As her scrolling slows, she clicks on a thumbnail, and a lacy negligee opens on a larger page. “Bingo!"

Myka gasps. “How did you…”

“I work with a lot of dudes, ok? You do not want to know what's in their browser history.”

Myka turns the laptop toward her and studies the woman pictured. Her hair is a shade darker, but there’s no question, she’s Bonnie. She navigates back to the index page and sees her featured in multiple listings, posed seductively in pink, red, taupe.

“She’s a model, and she owns a bar?”

“And she likes art. Or someone she’s into does. Gotta do something with all that cash, right? Why not impress chicks?”

Myka clicks on a particularly complicated garment, littered with straps and garters and cutouts; my god this Bonnie's leggy, and thin, and, um, busty. She shuts her laptop to stop herself from spiraling further into a hole.

“So…"

“More beach bunny bimbo than NSA, ” Claudia says, with a smirk. “I could keep digging, she what skeletons she has rattling around.”

“Thanks, but, no,” Myka says, looking down and feeling, what…defeated? Is that what it is? Did she really want there to be a connection? And if so, why? Claudia pretty much said it earlier; H.G. gets hit on all the time. Is she that insecure...

“Wait, why didn’t that come up when I searched for her?”

Claudia opens the laptop and clicks on some keys. “She models under a different name.” Claudia spins the laptop toward Myka.

“Viondra Moore?” Myka says, scowling as she skims Viondra’s Wikipedia page.

“Sexier than 'Bonnie Belski.'"

“Ugh,” Myka grunts.

Her phone dings several times and when she glances at it, multiple pictures appear, most filled with crepes, supplemented with lengthy commentary. She scrolls up, and her attention hangs on the first photo, a selfie of Helena and Christina smiling and waving in front of the restaurant. The text reads “wish you were here,” and the urgency to hurry returns.

“I better finish up and go,” she says. “Could you not mention this Bonnie thing, either, to Helena? I was hoping today could be conflict free.”

“Done and done,” Claudia says. “But you’ll do it, right? Keep me posted?"

“Yeah,” Myka says with certainty.

She obviously needs someone to keep her on the level, so maybe it’s good Claudia knows. Making mountains out of molehills seems her specialty lately.

“One more thing?” she asks. "Could you close my browser? I can't look at that woman again."

-TBC-

On to chapter 11