#when reed finally stops trying to hide his feelings on his save

[jpriest85-blog]

Some Perfumare art for @pdrrook of Reed being clingy with my Allure MC Liz. Considering Liz has a very soft and curvy build Reed would take full advantage of boyfriend privlages during his romance save.

Granted he would have still used Liz like a human body pillow throughout their friendship once Liz knew him well enough to be comfortable with hugs and such. The only diference is their teens would have been more awkward due to the combination of Reed developing feelings and Liz being one of those girls who developed early. Although it does give more fuel of Liz and Flavio practibly being sibling since they both have dark hair and struggle with finding button up shirts that fit their larger chests.

I even headcanon Liz once spilled on her shirt when visiting the bar and Reed gave her one of his spares to change into. When she didn't return Reed went to check on Liz in the back room, she claimed she can't wear his shirt because it doesn't fit. They argue through the door for a bit before Liz finally opens it to prove to Reed she needs a bigger size. For a brief moment Reed relizes Alan may have a point about his cloth not being work appropriate, because not only is Liz pysically unable to button it up exposing a scandalous amount of clevage, the shirt is transparent enough that Liz's bra is clearly visible.

[cgogs]

all i wanted | c!dnf oneshot | 4k c!George breaks c!Dream out of prison and tries to fashion a normal life.

secret santa for @rglozwriter (happy holidays! i hope you enjoy!!)

George has never once in his whole life thought of himself as a hero. He could count on one hand, maybe two, the number of times he ever came close. 

When he saved a little girl from the wolves. Oh, but he was rather little as well, and just as terribly afraid as her. So maybe it doesn’t count. When he restored clean water to a dirty river village— oh, he’d only broken the dam to help Dream, and that’s far too selfish in nature to be considered heroic. He hadn’t done it on purpose. 

And that’s precisely the problem, George isn’t sure he’s done anyone any tremendous good on purpose, and furthermore out of the pure goodness of his heart. He doesn’t think that makes him a bad person, not everyone is meant to be a hero. Not everyone has the heart for it. 

It was always Dream who was the hero. In all their childhood adventures, Dream was the one who would have them stop in their path to help the needy, the sick, the suffering. George was the one who would try and fail to get some sense through his head. It’s not that he’s a bad person, he just didn’t think they were in the means to be heroes, needy, starving, and sick as they were. 

But Dream had a habit of being a hero, and it’s one that didn’t break until they settled down. Until they invited more people into their lives. George watched that heart of gold dull and hide itself away. The heroism didn’t leave, it just turned itself into something else. And it was unfortunate because no matter how much George protested his selflessness (because it was so often at the cost of his wellbeing and safety), it was something that he truly loved about him. His hero.

It’s half of why George doubts the reality of his situation. It can’t be. Because George would never claw his way through obsidian in the water like a half-drowned rat to save someone. He would never put his own neck on the line for someone else. He would never do something so stereotypically heroic, something straight out of a book. 

He stares at Dream, sitting on the floor weaving a basket from flax and reeds. 

Dream once called him a selfish damsel. It was a joke, but George didn’t think it was untrue. Well, the damsel part was untrue. Mostly. Maybe. Their scoreboard of saving each other is… uneven. Breaking Dream out of Pandora has to count for fifty tallies. George demands it.

George is in his weirdness again. The heavy state between sleeping and waking, where he doubts everything he sees. Dreaming, he dares to think. How many times has he dreamt about saving Dream? Saving Dream and convincing him to run away? Too many times. And he remembers the feeling of waking up after all too well. The heartache and disappointment and hatred for everything and everyone.

The memories of walking the halls of the prison seem so distant, filled with water and oil. They seem impossible. 

Dream pinches himself and hisses, the half-done weave unfurling slightly as his hands recoil. He checks his fingers as if they were cut. George takes too long to react.

“Are you okay?” he says finally. Dream looks up at him, green eyes shining. He looks embarrassed.

“Yeah, no, yeah. I just cut myself a little.” Dream’s voice is soft and a little embarrassed in a way that makes George’s heart stop and start again. It peels one layer of fog off his mind. “Good morning. How long have you been standing there?”

Dream is nervous and awkward like a new roommate. It could be appropriate if they haven’t loved each other all their lives. Well, George never actually got confirmation if that’s wholly true. Dream could have stopped loving him for a little while there. But he’s at least mostly sure that Dream loves him now. Hopefully not just for saving him. 

George blinks, looking around. His feet are deathly cold in the doorway. Dream sits in front of the fire weaving his basket, and the world outside is pure white with snow. George comes to sit with him, vision glossy, like the world was smeared with grease.

“I dunno,” he answers, too late, “I just woke up.”

Dream pulls the pile of flax and reeds and willow to the side to make space for him. George pulls his blanket further around himself, rubbing his eyes. He’s sitting on a couple crumbs of dried plants but he’s decided he doesn’t care. He doesn’t want to move to fix it. Luckily for him, Dream notices and pulls the bent reed out from under him. George mumbles a gratitude. 

“Are you okay?” Dream asks. He doesn’t cast his voice like he used to. He’s quiet these days.

“Uh… yeah.” 

“Are you feeling weird? The soup?”

George laughs a little like it’s the first time he’s heard him call it that. All the memories come to him a few moments too late. Yes, right, this is a common occurrence. George’s smile drops in a way that’s too obvious. Dream frowns at him.

George is remembering himself. The heroics he thinks of as so alien aren’t quite so against his nature as he thought. It’s just that they only show their face if it’s for Dream. It doesn’t make him a hero, he’s still a selfish prick, but it means this is all a little more real than before. He’s remembering more and more as he wakes up, feeling more and more grounded. 

“Do I need to, um… do anything for you?” Dream asks. George hates how he asks for things now. Like he isn’t sure how to be a person anymore. This time isn’t as bad as others, but sometimes just the questioning quirk of his voice will make him sad. “I can jog your memory again. Or I can get your journal–”

George replies too fast. “I don’t want you to get up.”

“Okay. Um… this is our house,”

“I know this is our house.” George rolls his eyes.

“Okay. How about you just ask me, then.” Dream picks his basket weave back up, setting to work tightening the braids that went loose while he wasn’t holding it down. George feels bad snapping at him, even if it wasn’t much. He rubs his knuckles on Dream’s wrist as an apology. The little nod he gets back means it was accepted. It’s always nice to know Dream still remembers their old rituals. 

“I’m just, um… it doesn’t feel real.” George leans his head on the edge of the coffee table, the one Dream pushed up against the couch to make room for his weaving. George lets his eyes get lost in the braids and patterns, following the maze of reed. He thinks Dream must be planning to use it as a fish trap– he’s always been partial to pike. “I don’t remember how we got here.”

This must happen more often than George thinks, because all of the concern he was expecting is pushed to the back of Dream’s mind. He watches it happen. 

“You broke me out of prison. We’re waiting out the winter until summer, and then deciding what we want to do.” Dream’s voice is a practiced calm, like reciting a textbook. “You want me to stay. I want to tie up loose ends.”

“Why are you here… if you don’t want to be here?”

“I can’t do anything in the state I’m in right now.” Dream almost-laughs, only letting out a small sardonic snicker. The details of his face and body finally load in George’s mind, suddenly, as if they only just now took form, and he feels so stupid for not noticing before. The skinniness of his body, the scars on his arms, the two prosthetic fingers. Having just woken up is the culprit, it dulls his senses and replaces them with delusions. Or maybe he’s simply gotten used to the way he looks, and his hindbrain took no issue. “And you keep my bedroom door bolted from the outside.”

“What? Is that true?”

Dream smiles at him. “No.” 

“You’re an ass.” 

“I know.”

“So– how? How did I get you out?” George tries to imagine it. Clad in shiny armor with a formidable weapon, a getaway horse and a real plan. It’s just not him, even if it was for Dream’s sake.

“I don’t know.” He says it in a way that suggests he wishes he did. “You were– weird. Like this. And sopping wet, and like… sleepwalking.”

“How long ago?”

“Um… it was when the trees were just starting to turn orange.”

He’s not good with time. George groans, rubbing his eyes still. His memories are slow to appear, but they do. It’s not cause for huge celebration. They fade in and reveal themselves at his prompting like the tide reveals the stones.

He looks around at their house, hidden somewhere deep in the tundra. Nobody for miles. He remembers Dream, in a state, hiding food and weapons in every nook and cranny he could finagle. He thinks of it as safe. Dream feels, to some degree, safe here. That makes George happy.

“I remember.” George nods. 

“It’s not very complicated.”

“Everything with you is complicated.”

Dream rolls his eyes. He’s farther away from the fire than George– and then a memory hits him, one of Dream in that cell. Cowering from the heat, eyes big like dinner plates. He went off his head, if his memory serves. Begged him to leave: he couldn’t be here, he has to leave, he wasn’t real…

He remembers guiding him through the tunnels and corridors by the hand, leading in front and pulling him along. He was so skinny he weighed nearly nothing, and when he protested and tried to yank away, George was able to keep him in his grip. Which meant that there was something very very wrong with him.

Dream has asked him, over and over, how he’d managed to get in and out, and George has never been able to tell him. He still isn’t able. He truly doesn’t know. All he knows is that he’s made it a habit to always get what he wants. Maybe something in the universe finally bowed to that will. 

And in true fashion to tradition, when he got what he wanted, Dream was the one who had to figure out the logistics of their situation. What they were going to eat, where they were going to go. If you heard Dream tell it, you’d think George fainted or something as soon as they could look back over their shoulders and not see Pandora’s Vault any longer. But Dream just doesn’t remember the nitty gritty of it. George remembers holding him close to his chest while the sirens went off for hours, felt like days. They hid like foxes in a hole in the ground. 

Dream is paranoid. He’s always been paranoid but it’s worse than ever. It’s not like George can blame him. It’s just different. And ‘different’ is neither bad nor good, but it certainly means ‘not the same.’ 

George knows he’s changed too. He doesn’t know the exact ways how, or if it’s anything like how Dream has changed, but he knows Dream isn’t the only one who’s different. They’ve been making it work, regardless.

Sometimes he catches Dream staring at him when he thinks he can’t see him, or when he thinks George is asleep. He looks at him with something sick– something so grateful and reverent it’s awful. A new cog in his hero– he’s been well trained by someone else. It makes him angry. Possessive in ways he’s too ashamed to let materialize. He can’t let himself feel good about the way Dream looks at him now.

Dream takes his new fish trap and gets them a pike and a rabbit. Presumably not caught with the fish trap. By the time he comes home, George is at his wits again. The journal helps, notes his fully-awake self writes for his sleepy-self so they’re both on the same page. It was Dream’s idea. They both have one– George isn’t proud of it, but he reads through Dream’s every time he leaves the house.

Today, he reads through Dream’s before he even cracks open his own. Dream writes about his week, the things he’s been eating and when. Sometimes George is blessed to read his own name. 

george has been remembering easier lately. i should be waking him up earlier

The guilt from invading Dream’s privacy washes away when he opens his own journal and sees Dream’s annotated his latest entry in green ink. They’re equally in each other’s business, and that makes his day. The entry itself is mortifying, but George would be lying if he said he didn’t secretly wish Dream would read it and answer him.

I don’t know if we’re still together. don’t act like it because if he weirdchamps me again i’ll kill you 

^ when did i weirdchamp you?

They eat fish together with nothing to talk about. Dream’s been doing better, too. With touch and being less… like he’s always in a crisis. They’re sleeping in the same bed again. Dream preferred the floor for a long time. 

In the middle of the night George wakes slightly to the feeling of kisses being planted to the back of his neck, down his spine and over his shoulders. Dream pulls aside his shirt to reach his skin and everything. George smiles where he can’t see.

Since it’s winter, they don’t have a lot of vegetables. Sometimes Dream brings back a pumpkin from god knows where– George suspects Techno, but it’s not like Dream tells him anything. They have some berry bushes in the backyard, good for juice and pie. 

Dream says he finds peace in hunting. George can’t imagine how, but he goes with him sometimes and it seems to be true. Maybe it’s easier for him to focus his thoughts. George isn’t sure. George is just a half-functioning damsel, after all. He’s useful for skill shots and skinning the rabbits, at least. It’s hard sometimes, sitting around and letting Dream do everything. 

It’s how it used to be, but… well, it’s just different now. George frequently finds himself out of character. He wants to be useful– it seems like Dream has grown a love for useful things. He wants to be in that category. He wants to be all the things Dream loves and deems important. If only he’d let him in whatever hell he’s thrown himself into.

“I love you,” Dream says one night, in the hallowed hall they call their bedroom. Where the deepest secrets are confessed. It takes George by surprise, lungs and heart still racing. He’s not quite all-there after fooling around for so long. He blinks, processing the joy, the accomplishment– but also the exhaustion. He turns his head to look at Dream, hair messy, like gold threads on the pillows. “I’m sorry.”

“Why would you be sorry for that?”

He shrugs hopelessly. “I just think it puts you in a bad spot.”

“Ugh, I don’t care.” George rolls into his chest. It’s all too cold without him. “I want to be there. In the bad spot.”

An arm comes to wrap around his back and hold him close. A soft kiss is planted to his bruised mouth, already sore and bit from kissing all night. George is quickly becoming too sleepy to stay awake. Maybe Dream knows that, maybe he can feel the magic in the air when George starts to slip away. He presses his cold, cold hand to Dream’s heart. He wishes he could pull it out and keep it safe. Keep him.

“I wish you knew what was good for you.”

“I don’t have to. That’s your job.” George mumbles against his lips. Dream doesn’t kiss him again, lowering his head to let him rest. “I know what’s good for you.”

“Do you really think that?”

“I know that.”

As time passes and the worst of winter is over, George can’t help but pray for the frost to stay. In Dream’s journal, he writes about the steps he’ll take when he goes back home. He still calls it home. George’s eyes sting with tears as he closes it and tucks it away. 

At dinner, George doesn’t sit. Dream doesn’t sit either, despite food already plated for him. He knows what it’s about. 

“Are you really going to leave again?”

“...yes. When summer comes.”

George leans back against the counter. “Are you going to come back?”

“I want you to stay here. It’s, safe here.”

“But you won’t come back?”

Dream looks stressed almost instantly. George can’t bring himself to feel bad. His heart is too close to breaking, even though Dream never promised him anything, so it really isn’t fair to him. 

“I won’t promise you anything. For your sake,” Dream runs a hand through his hair, and George scoffs, “But I want to come back. Until this is all over. And– and when it’s over, we can be together all the time!”

“Is that what you want?”

“Isn’t that what you want?”

George’s crossed arms fall to his sides. His mind is full of cotton. He pronounces his words emphatically. “I want to be what you want. If you’ll only come see me out of– pity, then don’t bother.”

“That’s not what I said,”

“You’re barely saying anything! Do you not feel like you owe me anything? I don’t– I won’t ask for a lot, I just, I just thought–”

“Okay, okay, George, please, just listen to me.” Dream is in his space now, which is unusual. It makes his spikes lower. Dream is trying. “I’ll– I’ll come see you. I promise.”

And there’s that look again. The one where his eyes train on George, hyper focused on his expression and body language. The one that feels like all the devotion and obedience in his body rise to the surface to prove that they’re still there. It makes his skin crawl. 

“I just– I can’t have you involved. I can’t. I got a taste of it months ago and I can’t ever feel that way again.” Dream lowers himself. For a second George thinks he’s going to drop to his knees and the mere thought makes his stomach invert. But Dream’s posture only bends, eye to eye as he pleads with him. “You understand that, right? Please.”

“Dream, stop, I’m not– you’re not–” 

In trouble, he wants to say. But as it stands, that isn’t true. Dream is very much in trouble with him. Should he change that? How can he reach inside himself to turn his heart off and talk to him like a normal person? Or should he accept the reverence, should he think it appropriate?

No, he shouldn’t. Because it isn’t his. This isn’t what he trained Dream to do. This isn’t anything like their old rituals. Or maybe it holds remnants, he can recognize some of it, but it’s become corrupted now. It’s not an affection he can accept, because it wasn’t written with him in mind. He’s not Dream’s authority. He may want Dream to obey him, bend to his will, but George knows the subtle differences between love and obedience.

“Dream. It’s okay. I just, I don’t…” He looks to the window, then to the floor, desperately avoiding his eyes. “I don’t want you to act like I don’t exist. Okay. That’s all I want.”

“I love you.” Dream says. “I just want to keep you safe.”

A subtle confession. Abandoning him was all in the name of keeping him safe. George almost laughs. It’s so stereotypically heroic, so self sacrificial. George should have ironed out the heroics in him when they were younger, when he still had the chance. 

“We’re not good people.” George looks at him. “I wish you’d stop acting like it. You don’t have to go back. You don’t owe anything to anyone.”

“I owe everything to everyone.”

“And you want me to stay here. You’ll come by when you need a warm body, right?” He says it like it’s a deal he wouldn’t gladly accept. 

“I will come by when I can. You know. When it’s safe. And we can do anything you want.”

“Don’t make it sound like– like I’m renting you!”

He steps on one of the hair triggers that rule over Dream’s frustration. George thinks it’s a victory. “How do you want it to sound? I’m really trying here!”

“I want it to sound like you actually want to be with me, you ass.”

“I do!” Dream says it like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. And maybe it is, and George just can’t see it from this angle. “I have responsibilities that aren’t– negotiable.”

George doesn’t understand why he’s fighting this. Maybe he’s scared of what will happen if there’s no one around to wake him. Maybe he’s ambitious enough to think he can haggle a better deal. The strength it takes to fight with Dream is quickly leaving him. It’s a great arrangement. More than he could ask for just half a year ago. Something he clawed through obsidian to obtain. 

He’s seen the leash prison put on him. He’s held it, even. Pulled on it, led Dream around with it. George has decided he doesn’t want it. 

“I’m sorry,” he says, and it takes the words out of Dream’s mouth, whatever he was going to say. “You have no idea what it was like to be without you. I can’t do it again.”

“I promise–” 

“I trust you.” George’s eyes are furrowed and serious. “But I can’t wait until it’s all over.”

If he can’t make Dream see how futile this all is, then it’s something he’ll have to discover himself. But George won’t wait another two years for it to happen. 

It’s the spring after their winter together, and George hasn’t seen Dream in two months. He knows because he’s been tallying it in his journal, which has seen an uptick in use without a roommate. 

Techno visited, once. Gave him supplies. They must be closer than they thought, George somewhere on the fringes of the tundra where the four seasons are allowed to exist– watered down as they are. It pissed him off more than it should have– of course Dream would send someone else before he came to do it himself. 

Maybe he’s making a name for himself again. Maybe he’s in hot water and can’t come, or he’ll be followed. It’s not like George gets a lot of news out here. He’s slept through days straight, he’s sure of it.

He’s pouting at the ceiling, in the middle of some pessimistic bratty rant about his life when he hears that stupid knock Dream does on everything. It knocks the gloom straight out of his chest. He races down the stairs, everything in the world leagues and bounds less important than opening the door. 

Dream stands in his mask, a light smattering of snow on his hood and cloak. George reaches to pull him in by the neck before Dream can even get a word out. A promise kept. He’s halfway through pulling his mask off when George jumps up to hug him. The force of it makes them both wobble. 

“Are you real?” George asks in his shoulder. He almost doesn’t believe it. An armored hand rubs his back. 

“Yeah,” Dream’s voice rumbles in his chest, vibrations sending through George’s bones. It’s his new favorite feeling. 

George pulls away. He interrupted the de-masking process, so half his face is still covered. It looks stupid. It’s George’s new favorite thing. 

George couldn’t care less about the gift. It's nice, and he'll use it every day, but all joys are overshadowed by the presence of the man in his home– even if covered in dirt and scorch marks as he is. If he could choose any gift, he’d wanted a burner comm that he would be allowed to message him from, but the quilt is nice. George leaves it folded on the kitchen table, all pleasantries said and done with. Yes, he loves it, it’s beautiful, I love the color green. 

He pushes himself up to kiss him. He tastes like gunpowder and blood. It’s George’s new favorite taste. 

[thesummerstorms]

Rev’s Favorite MXTX Fics (1/2)

Heaven Official’s Blessing

’Til our compass stands still by edenwolfie

After getting lost in Ghost City, Xie Lian bargains away years of servitude to the Gambler’s Den to help a man in need. He dons the robes of a worker and hides his face and life behind an enchanted mask, protecting himself from the city's denizens. Xie Lian finds an unexpected home in Ghost City before he ever sees the lord of it, the infamous Hua Cheng. When he finally does, something about himself seems to catch the attention of the Ghost King, slowly striking up an unusual friendship. Xie Lian must figure out how to navigate his burgeoning feelings, how to keep his identity to himself, and how to get over a ghost so clearly in love with someone else.

the ghost king's bride by arahir

Ghosts won't stop giving Xie Lian flowers, Hua Cheng won't stop teasing, and Xie Lian is out here doing his best, man.

Aren't Alright by Boomchick

It’s been over a week since Xie Lian checked in which, for Mu Qing, is about the longest silence since the one that lasted 800 years. He should probably be glad for the quiet, but instead…

Instead he calls in Feng Xin’s help, and goes to see what’s wrong.

He should have expected this, honestly.

Feng Xin and Mu Qing arrive at the house on Mt. Taicang to find Xie Lian 8 years old both in body and mind. The main problem? Xie Lian isn’t the only one who’s 8 years old. What are two gods to do with a Hong Hong-er?

Scum Villain’s Self-Saving System:

I Wish You Were My Husband by Feynite

AU based on The Dreamer in the Spring Boudoir (familiarity with that story's not required).

Wherein Shen Yuan transmigrates into a harem intrigues romance novel (gay edition), Yue Qingyuan really fucks up, Liu Qingge is not suitable for his job, and no one even remotely sees Luo Binghe coming.

Metagaming by esama

[Self-Saving System Activated! You will be now returned to your original starting position.]

Shen Qingqiu dies and gets a second chance and decides to try a different approach.

Character Optimisation by esama

[Bonus mission, "Me, Myself and I" is now available. Would you like to activate the mission?]

Shen Qingqiu tries to sort himself out. Yue Qingyuan and Liu Qingge try to help.

pure white and snow-bright by AMereDream

The first time you are used by old hands but a new soul, it is out of pure curiosity. One hand on your scabbard, one hand on your hilt, and a soft gasp of delight at the sight of your beauty. You preen. You are a beautiful thing, and you know it.

The second time you are used by old hands but a new soul, you kill a man.

(Or, you are Xiu Ya. Perhaps that is not what you were in the past, but it is what you are now.)

Sit With Your Soul by Tossawary

The original Shen Qingqiu suffers a severe deviation that unsettles his daemon, transforming them into a childish and inconstant creature, too curious and without any memories of the life that has made him so bitter. His soul is now unrecognizable to him and everyone can see his humiliation.

Shen Yuan isn't exactly happy to have transmigrated into Proud Immortal Demon Way at all, much less as this doomed scum villain's daemon.

A His Dark Materials Fusion AU.

when at first i learned to speak (i used all my words to fight) by xfrinz

Xiao Jiu doesn't know where he is, but he doesn't need to know where he is to not trust it. The only person that Xiao Jiu trusts is Qi-ge.

//

AKA: Another Shen Qingqiu De-Aging Fic

You came to me through the green of a forest by namio

...I woke, and the low moon’s glimmer on a rafter Seemed to be your face, still floating in the air.

A gentle laugh, inky reeds upon a white fan. This is a figure he will never see again, Liu Qingge realizes.

The Many Trials and Tribulations of Ming Fan by The Feels Whale

Ming Fan just wants to get through ONE supervised night hunt without this happening.

Or: the one where Shen Qingqiu continues to be attractive to people who aren’t Luo Binghe and Liu Qingge. It's a problem.

---

“Da-shixiong.” Ning-shimei’s groan was barely audible to anyone who didn’t have a cultivator’s enhanced senses. To him and the rest of their assembled siblings, though, it rang out like a bell. The only one who didn’t notice was Shizun. He was up ahead and deep in conversation with the Lord who’d summoned them to investigate a series of local disappearances.

“I saw,” Ming Fan sighed. “Eyes front. Everyone knows their roles.”

Frankly, he’d been braced for this moment since he’d asked around about the family hosting them for the duration of this investigation. He’d discovered that they had two marriage-aged daughters in the household, neither of whom were engaged.

Help! My Boss is a Bitch. by x_los

Shen Yuan was born to be Reviewer 2. Decades after his marriage, Empress Shen Qingqiu is living his best life at the entire demonic civil service's expense.

Grasping a Kite with Broken String by yamabuki_kana (cygnisor)

Despite how hard Shen Qingqiu tries to hide it, everyone knows how he mourns for Luo Binghe's loss in the Immortal Alliance Conference.

Liu Qingge tries to help him.

Tongfang by The Feels Whale

Shen Yuan is reincarnated as a cannon fodder character and eventual murder victim in one of the whodunnit arcs in Proud Immortal Demon Way. Things escalate quickly.

Or: that one where young Luo Binghe’s career goal is ‘Bride’.

[gogogodzilla]

Chapter 3

Summary: You get assigned to a case and Gavin is an asshole. ✧ masterlist ✧ ao3 ✧ wattpad ✧ ✧ previous chapter ✧ next chapter ✧

You gripped your coffee cup tightly as you walked into the DPD, exhausted from the late night before. You passed the android receptionist, flashing your badge, and called out a 'good morning' as you walked through the barriers.

You hurried to your desk across from Gavin's. "Morning, Chris," you said as you dropped your belongings onto your desk before taking your seat.

"Hey, doc," Chris greeted from his desk. "Crazy night, huh?"

You let out a sigh, laughing a little, "Oh yeah, I love spending my nights looking at corpses and watching androids interrogate other androids." Chris let out a chuckle as he returned to his work. You attempted to follow suit, scanning over the massive amounts of cases that were piling up.

Even footsteps behind you caught your attention, and you swiveled in your chair. Connor walked in and your eyes followed him as he surveyed the office, looking for something. Not satisfied with what he found, Connor headed into the break room. You slumped a little in your seat when you lost sight of him.

"Our friend, the plastic detective, is back in town!" Gavin's voice carried from the break room, causing your ears to perk up. Your eyes met Chris's as you pushed yourself away from your desk, ready to stop Gavin before he bit off more than he could chew.

"Better go save our new detective before Gavin gets ahold of him," Chris smiles at you as you stalk towards the break room.

"Hey, bring me a coffee, dipshit!" Gavin barked, stepping toward Connor.

"Aren't you a little too old to be bullying your coworkers, Reed?" You entered the break room, crossing your arms tightly. 

Gavin blanched before scrunching his face in annoyance. "Really, we're back to this, Doc?" Gavin fired back, venom lacing his voice. "This doesn't involve you."

"Don't listen to him, Connor," you order, your eyes never leaving Gavin's. He balls his fists at his sides, anger evident on his face. "Let's go," you replied, gently grabbing onto Connor's arm. Connor gave you a small nod before heading back to the office area.

"You really gonna defend that plastic prick?" Gavin accused as he took a step towards you. You should've just followed Connor back to your desk.

"That's not fair, Gavin," you whispered, trying not to let his words cut you too deep. "That's not what that was about and you know it," you counter, your eyes softening when they meet Gavin's. You've always been neutral towards androids, whereas Gavin was not.

"You know what this is about, Sweetheart? This is about that fucker," Gavin seethed, "threatening our livelihood."

You dropped your arms, hands balling to fists at your sides as you took a step closer to Gavin. "Maybe if you knew how to do your job, then you wouldn't feel so threatened by him, Detective." You glared at him for a final time before turning on your heel and heading back to your desk.

You dropped down into your chair, silently fuming. "Your heart rate is rising well above the normal level, going on like this for much longer could result in lasting harm," Connor articulated, standing stoically in front of your desk.

"Yeah, Gavin has that effect," you grumbled, crossing your arms. Connor stood there for a moment, and your eyes raked over him. This was the first time you were able to get a good look at him. You wondered if he was naturally this stiff or if Cyberlife programmed him that way.

"Why are you here so early anyways?" You inquired, looking up at Connor from your seated position. You felt your cheeks warm up; he was standing so close.

"I've been instructed to find Lieutenant Anderson," he peered at you, "do you know what time he usually comes in?"

Chris scoffed, barely hiding the amusement in his voice, "Depends on where he was the night before."

You rolled your eyes before looking back at Connor, "He's usually in around noon, hopefully, we'll see him before then."

"Thank you, Doctor," Connor replied before turning to find Hank's desk. You watched in amusement as he strode around the office, looking for the right desk. When he finally found the right desk he took a seat, his posture stiff as he folded his hands in front of him.

Hank arrived and Connor stood, "It's good to see you again, Lieutenant," he greeted.

"Oh, Jesus," Hank said, as he rolled his eyes. You hide your grin behind your coffee mug as you watch them interact.

"Hank!" Captain Fowler shouted your last name, "In my office!" You jumped slightly before meeting Hank's eyes. Your stomach turned as you got up from your seat, following Hank and Connor into Fowler's office.

Connor held the door of Fowler's office for you and you nodded your head in thanks as you moved to take the seat next to Hank. Fowler began his speech, but you were only half listening. You took a chance to sneak a look at Connor at the back of Fowler's office; his posture was rigid as he clasped his hands in front of his body.

"This isn't just Cyberlife's problem anymore. It's now a criminal investigation and we've gotta deal with it before shit hits the fan," Fowler paused before running a hand down his face. "I want you three to investigate these cases and see if there's any link," Fowler concluded as he looked between you, Hank, and Connor.

Hank began his protests before you could even begin to comprehend what Fowler was telling you. "Cyberlife sent over this android to help with the investigation. It's a state-of-the-art prototype. It'll act as your partner," Fowler said with finality.

Your jaw dropped. Connor is here to stay.

Hank leaned into Fowler's desk, "No fuckin way!" He snapped, pointing his finger at the captain, "I don't need a partner, and certainly not this plastic prick!" Hank paused for a moment before looking over at you and mumbling a 'sorry doc'. You shrugged in response. 

A growl left Hank's mouth and he stormed out of Fowler's office, the door slamming against the glass walls on his way out. You and Connor watched him leave before turning your attention back to Fowler.

You stood from your seat, "Captain," you said before sending him a nod and making your way back to your desk. Your exit is the calm after Hank's whirlwind storm. You spare a glance behind you, enough to see Connor say something to Fowler and Fowler brushing him off.

You plopped into your chair, watching as Connor approaches the Lieutenant, wincing in anticipation of Hank's reaction. Surprisingly, Hank was silent at his desk, his arms crossed as he stared at his terminal.

You watched Connor attempt to make conversation. He was just so damn persistent. You could tell he really wanted to be on the Lieutenant's good side. Their conversation came to an end and Connor reached out to the keyboard on his desk. The skin on his hand retracted revealing the porcelain plastic beneath and you cringed. You don't think you'd ever be able to get used to that.

Your brows shot up as Connor stood up and moved in front of Hank's desk. Whatever he said set the Lieutenant off and he grabbed Connor's collar and pushed him against the plastic divider.

You sprung up from your seat and hurried to intervene. Jesus, this was going to be tricky. "Lieutenant," you interrupted as you laid your hand on his arm, "let's not destroy the merchandise, yeah?" He scrunched his nose, conflicted, before dropping his arms from Connor's jacket.

"Lieutenant..." Chris cut in, "I have some information on the AX400 that attacked the guy last night... It's been spotted in the Ravendale district." You sent Chris a grimace, your cheeks flushing. Goddamnit Hank, get it together.

"I'm on it," Hank replied, his eyes never leaving Connor's. He turned and headed to the door, "C'mon doc!" He shouted over his shoulder.

"Shit," you let out a breath you didn't know you were holding. "Maybe try a different approach when it comes to the Lieutenant," you joked, a small grin forming on your face. Connor was silent while you grabbed your coat from your desk, "It's okay, Connor," you moved in front of him; he looked almost sullen, "the Lieutenant will warm up eventually."

You patted his arm gently, "Let's go find a deviant." The corner of Connor's mouth quirked up and a feeling of satisfaction filled your chest. You liked when he smiled.

You turned on your heel, following Hank to his car with Connor on your heels.

Rain was pounding against the pavement of the parking lot as you jogged to meet Hank at his car, one of the non-self-driving cars in the city. Connor moved to open the passenger side door but Hank stopped him, "Doc gets shotgun, not you." Connor frowned before removing his hand and stepping away.

You switched places with Connor and hopped into the passenger side, eager to get out of the rain. "He should sit up front, his legs are longer," you offered, a small smile on your face that grew with Hank's annoyance.

Hank narrowed his eyes, "It can earn its place in the passenger seat like the rest of ya." You raised your hands in fake surrender as Hank started the car and began the drive to the Ravendale district. You were in for it now. 

[brawltogethernow]

I suppose the next step then is "BBC Merlin but it's SpideyTorch"

Oh my god. TEACHER, TEACHER, SHE’S TARGETING ME okay okay uh.

Peter, secret warlock, goes to Camelot with his mother figure, May, who does not know about the warlock thing because it kicked in when he was a teenager and they both strategically decline to tell each other things. Gaius is Reed, who was the court sorcerer and is now the court scientist. (He’s not an old man except spiritually where he has been a senile professor since he was 19.) He literally didn’t change anything he was doing, considering science and magic as different points on one spectrum anyway-- No. That’s Doom’s schtick. DOOM was the court sorcerer, and was fired. He is upset about it. Reed is just a science guy but worked extensively with Victor, so he’s kind of useful, but not as useful as Peter was hoping.

I know very little about Sue and Johnny’s dad except that he’s a supervillain who...faked his death, revealed himself, and then died for real like 12 hours later? Did he also fake his wife’s death at some point? Would he do a mad king magic ban thing? Idk but for plot purposes we’ll say yes. They conveniently already share Arthur’s dead mom syndrome. Maybe their aunt whose name is different depending on what issue you’re reading is also here just to convolute the court drama. Wait no didn’t Arthur have a shady uncle show up after like five seasons. She.

Peter is very talented at finicky, specific magical formulas. (Reed: :) )But in practice he really prefers to just slam out a big wave of power, and if that doesn’t solve the problem, repeat until it does. (Reed: :( ) He gives this a go at the beginning of sorting out any problem, like restarting your glitching computer, and if it doesn’t work the problem is complicated enough to be an episode plot.

So obviously I’m still gonna do secret identity shit? Peter saves the young prince and heir��s life and is rewarded with a second job; he only came here for job reasons and you’re all lucky he doesn’t turn down paying jobs otherwise he’d be having some words with the king. Peter also accidentally becomes a masked vigilante out in the town. His very existence is illegal because he’s obviously doing magic! They keep sending his boss out to hunt him down, and their eyes are always locking dramatically and shit in brief silent stare-offs from opposite ends of the street in thunder storms at sunset until Johnny’s horse rears and breaks the eye contact causing Peter to snap out of it and flee. You know how it is.

Sue is older than Johnny and thus older than the magic ban, so she responded to it by going “:) That’s nice, Dad” and socking away a bunch of books before they could go on the fire, and now she’s just a sorceress on the dl. This is approx. a first season finale reveal, because her real superpower is being able to keep her mouth the hell shut. I literally cannot with how nobody in Merlin ever exchanges information, so shortly after Peter and Reed learn this they exchange secrets, like sane people, which opens up their resources a bit.

That said Sue is an extra legitimate royal, not the Morgana equivalent. Maybe Gwen should be Gwen, especially since I have thought Gwen/Johnny/Peter has potential since reading Spider-Man/Fantastic Four (which if you read an earlier ask, I recommend if you want to see new art of Gwen being mean in hair clips). But Peter/Gwen and Merlin/Freya are like...same energy except the latter wasn’t as well done. And Merlin’s Guinevere honestly more reminds me of Betty. Morgana--

(wheeze)

(cough)

Okay I thought this trying to reconcile as much of the cast as possible and I now can’t unthink it so. The king’s ward is Dorrie Evans. Yes she goes nebulously sapphic evil witch queen. Sure she was an unpleasant teenager and readers hate her, but you know what, I’ll simp, whatever. Let Dorrie poison some people. In a cape. This feels natural to me. Also Betty Brant and Dorrie Evans???? Betty/Dorrie vibes???? I guess!!!!

So like. The thing where Arthur gets mystically whammied by love potions once a month, except also Johnny’s normal relationship-anticipating giddiness happening organically mixed in, the part before he actually starts dating someone and becomes immediately depressed. Peter is in the bg sarcastically dismissing magical incidents saying he can’t even tell the difference, and Reed is like 😬 Please Check Anyway. Peter’s not, haha, Peter’s not jealous, Johnny is just an idiot, and, okay maybe Peter is a little jealous! But it doesn’t matter because the prince is going to marry some noble and--

Reed: Prince Johnathan is a bit like a little brother to me, so Please Stop Telling Me About Your Problems.

Reed/Sue is reciprocated but on permanent hold for class reasons. Spideytorch is in the same boat except they’re also stupid and working it out by dating their way through the whole country, except Peter is actually into that and Johnny is not.

The dragon is...Ezekiel?????? That’s the right level of wise wry mentor who’s very shady and will kill you, so he’s a dragon now. And when he tells Peter he’s the (other) chosen one, Peter full stop doesn’t believe him. This disbelief goes on extensively. Peter is not a fate-oriented person. Johnny would love to hear about the fate thing, but no one will tell him.

Literally I’m just going to add more chronologically unmoored medievalish shit to Merlin now to cram more of the cast in. There’s some kind of town crier/herald outfit, and Jonah is their boss. He’s just out in the road yelling sometimes even though he can delegate that. The buglers otherwise known as Bugle staff named Peter’s vigilante persona the Spider, which was supposed to sound menacing but is in practice also cool. This is out-of-universe fairly equivalent to Merlin’s real name as a neat two-syllable animal word and possible title. In-universe maybe I’d elbow out Emrys and just use this. Merlin is already very servants-don’t-work-like-that, so Betty just also has two jobs for no reason so she can knock elbows with them.

MJ is the court jester and knows absolutely everything, which is a dramatic mid-game reveal that isn’t exactly foreshadowed so much as always possible while carefully obscured from the viewer (the reader). Before this she’s already a Wise Fool, Shakespeare-ways archetype character, it’s just not clear how much. She is the most important character in Homestuck Merlin Spider.

Every ship is real for at least 30 seconds. Most of the extended FF cast are either magical antagonists or weird nobles.

Ben????? (Grimm, I mean. Ben Parker is dead. Ben Reilly is a recurring episodic plot.) This show was painfully formulaic and would simply not keep someone with any version of his deal in the main cast, but he’s a full quarter of the FF so. A magical accident approximated his rock body deal. Maybe specifically tying him to ~the magic of the land~. And then, uh. Wandering the country is too satellite-like. Hiding out in a forbidden castle wing is interesting but doesn’t do him justice. So I guess it’s a come and go semivoluntary transformation thing that’s kept secret? Rock werewolf. Were-rock. Good opportunity to fake out like you’re going to do a monster of the week plot, and then he contributes to the tension to abolish the magic ban.

Knights?? Wyatt is there from the beginning, being tall and reassuring (holding a sword edition). Not sure how him or his immediate ancestors got to Europe and then ended up this involved with the local nobility, but it was probably exciting. And Flash, or he’s an early addition. Either way he’s from the same village as Peter and is approximately White’s Kay, except directed at the wizard instead of the future king, and otherwise you can completely superimpose their comic dynamic including the fanboying over the secret identity angle, which is entertainingly seditious. ...Others. I don’t know enough FF characters for this. I’ve accidentally implied the eventual addition of Bennet Brant, but his evil sorcerer of the week energy is very strong, so maybe not. Randy eventually because I already implied the Robertsons and can see it.

This is so long, covers nothing, and explains none of the namechecks. Using both these characters’ franchises in one fusion is too much stuff. I keep not talking about the core relationship because it’s just. Like That. I don’t feel like I need to elaborate on the Merthur dynamic, even transposed on a different ship. It’s Just Like That.

[holy-stevie]

The Winters Flame

Pairing: Johnny Storm x Fem!Reader

Summary: A winter morning with Johnny quickly turns into a disaster. 

Warnings: Mentions of smut, nudity, fluff, angst, character death.

a/n: i know i need to post my next part of TLATL but i just couldn’t get this out of my head. I haven’t proof read this yet so i apologize in advance. 

Masterlist

Please do not repost my works on any other sites. 

The snow fell peacefully in the early grey of the morning, its small white flakes frosting the window a mere two feet away from your warm, cozy bed. The cold winter morning not affecting your warm body as the body wrapped around you radiates heat to keep you nice and toasty. You blink a few times to rid the sleep from your eyes as you watch the snowfall, your body turning to the side ready to get up and start the day.

“No, don’t you dare.” His sleepy voice halts you, his warm arms wrapping around your torso and with a sharp tug you’re falling back into his chest with a huff.

“Johnny.” You giggle, rolling over to meet his sleepy blue eyes and dopey smile. He groans and pulls you closer to him as he dramatically buries his face into your soft neck, humming softly against your skin as he takes a deep breath.

“Nope, you’re staying right here.” He mumbles, his naked left thigh sliding in between yours as he shifts himself to get more comfortable. You both stay there, cuddled into each other until the sun is cutting through the dark clouds making the white ground shine.

“We should get up baby.” You mumble, your fingers running up and down his bare back in soothing patterns, running gentler over the raised scars on his body from years of being a hero for the world.

“Hgnn.” He complains against you, his voice deep and raspy as he runs his nose along the side of your jaw, enjoying being this close to you after weeks of being gone.

“I’m surprised you can even move baby girl, thought I gave it to you pretty good last night and this morning.” He wiggles his eyebrows and grins when you groan and bury your face into the soft pillow, the ache between your legs reminding you of the homecoming the two of you shared the night before.

“You’re mean.” You say into the pillow, lifting your head to look at him as he laughs. Your eyes following him as he throws his head back and laughs, the sound deep and rich making a smile of your own appear.

“Aw baby.” He chuckles, gathering you in his arms to bring you closer to his warm chest as he continues laughing to himself. You sigh against his skin and lay your head over the faint heartbeat, a beat that belongs to you as he always says.

“Fine we’ll stay here and watch movies, but you have to supply the snacks.” You mumble, leaning over the side of the bed to grab your laptop that was shoved to the side last night when he made his grand entrance.

“I think you take advantage of my flying abilities more than my teammates do.” He teases as he gets up, stretching in his glorious naked state. You pout and open your laptop, not letting him know that you were ogling him once again.

Just as your mouth opens to retort a small beep fills the room followed by the sound of his phone vibrating on the bedside table, the mood in the room dropping as Johnny picks up the phone and answers it with tensed shoulders.

“Reed we just got back I can’t just, I know it’s important but I have-” Johnny argues over the small device while you quietly shut the laptop once again, the smile and joy draining from your expression as you watch Johnny race around the room gathering his things.

“Yeah yeah okay twenty minutes.” He says as he hangs up the phone, his uniform already fitted over his fit body. He smiles at you painfully as he gently approaches your quiet form on the bed, your fingers playing with a small thread on the sheets as tears gather in your eyes.

“Baby..” He says as he sits on the bed, his warm hand grabbing your hands and pulling them into his lap as he gently winds your fingers together. You press your lips together to hold the sob in, your shoulders lifting as you curl in on yourself.

“You just came back to me.” You whisper, the pain in your voice making him quickly snap his body around to face you, his hands lifting to cup your cheeks. The tears escape from the corners of your eyes as you see the famous symbol on the side of his chest, the symbol that takes him away from you to save the world.

“I know baby, but I’ll be right back okay? Don’t cry baby please.” He begs as he wipes the stray tears from your soft cheeks, his own eyes showing regret and guilt at leaving just after he had gotten back.

“Please don’t leave.” You beg staring into the blue orbs that you saw even when you closed your eyes every night, the eyes that you wanted to see on your own children one day.

“I have to.” He mumbles, his forehead dropping to rest against yours, his eyes squeezing shut when more tears escape your beautiful eyes. He presses a soft kiss to your lips, a goodbye kiss, before he’s leaving you once again, halting in the doorway to mumble the worlds he says every time he leaves.

“I love you y/n, no matter what.” And then he’s gone in a burst of flames cutting through the snowfall of the winter morning, leaving you behind to cry into his cold pillow as the news flickers from your phone as you follow along with the active threat he is fighting for the world.

The snow blankets the dark streets of your hometown, the soft brown wood of your front door sounding the three knocks waking you from your slumber. Confused and slightly afraid you sliding your warm slippers over your feet and shuffle to the front door, wrapping your arms around yourself when the open door lets the chill into your home.

Standing on the other side of the door is Susan Storm, her face red and streaked with tear tracks, Reed Richards and Ben, the three of them all looking as heartbroken as the other. Maybe if you weren’t still shaking off sleep you would have put the dots together right then and there, but you didn’t.

“Sue? What’s going on.” She just shakes her head and turns to hide her now wet with tears face in Reed’s chest, his own eyes red rimmed as Ben takes the lead and takes a step closer to you.

“Y/n I’m so sorry, Johnny he..we tried to save him.” Ben mumbles, his words shocking you for minute as you finally understand why they’re at your front door at 4am. You shake your head as you feel the breath kicked out of your lungs, your vision blurry as tears erupt in your eyes.

“N-No he said he’d be right back.” You stumble out as you take several steps back, not hearing Ben’s words as he tries to guide you to a seat. The first sob that releases itself from your throat hurts the worst, the pure agony that follows is nothing short of heartbreak as the remain superheros watch you fall to the ground in pieces as you finally understand that the love of your life was never coming back.

“No. He can’t be gone.” You sob while staring helplessly at Ben, his chin lowered as his bottom lip quivers.

“We tried y/n, he wouldn’t let any of us take his place.” Reed says as he takes a step forward, kneeling next to you in an attempt to comfort you.

“You should have stopped him!” You scream, your arms wrapping around your stomach protectively as the tears flow steadily, not even paying attention to the others as they try to comfort you. Your hands rest protectively on the slight bump, the small life already growing in your stomach that now only depends on you as its sole protector. The only living part of Johnny Storm that remains.

His child.  

Taglist : @scarletsoldierrr​ @chrisevans-imagines​ @patzammit​ @onetwo3000​ @yoncevans​ @sleepycevans​ @harrysthiccthighss​ @adriannajackson​ @donutloverxo​ @cloudninevans​ @smyfmj​

[connorandersons-blog]

Kinktober day 15: Strength, RK1700

Ok, ngl I’m running out of days. Like I’ve got tomorrow and thats it for pre-written days. Soooo, I’m kinda stressing, I know that like I don’t have to write all the days, but now that I’ve started I feel like I have to. I have written over 90k words for kinktober in all, which is a huge accomplishment for me. Anyway, so this is just a small warning that the days may be late or won’t be written at all, sorry.

Hope you enjoy this day, though!

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

It had started as a semi-innocent bet. Connor had tried to avoid Nines, scared the man would be everything Cyberlife claimed he was. Nines even stayed partners with Gavin Reed and managed to get the man to calm somewhat. 

So, ok, Connor was a bit jealous of Nines. He was tall, strong, intimidating, handsome, really strong, fast, smarter, ugh! It was infuriating. Not to mention how stoic and quiet he often was. And when he stared at Connor it was like he could see into his soul. 

But even with Connor's avoidance, Nines still stayed close to Connor when he could. He would do things that Connor was going to do and it drove him crazy. He didn't need someone else doing his job just because they thought they were better than everyone. 

Yet everyone seemed to adore Nines, even Hank quickly warmed up to him. It made no sense! Nines were made for the military, not talking to people, so how was he so good at making friends? 

Of course, Reed was the one that had started the bet. It wasn't even too bad of an idea, just who could last longer in a fight. Not brute strength, everyone knew Nines would win that even with how strong Connor was. 

They wouldn't be allowed to actually damage each other, but soon the whole office was placing bets. Hank had thankfully bet on Connor but it didn't make him feel too good. One of the good things was that Nines didn't seem too comfortable with it either. 

Connor was currently standing in the gym in the basement, facing a punching bag. He spun and kicked it, sending it flying before he reached out and caught it, putting it back in place. He sighed and rested his head against it. He'd been going at this since work ended three hours ago. Hank had long since gone home along with almost everyone except for the night shift. The night shift never used the gym so Connor didn't have to worry about anyone else in the room. 

He huffed before moving back and into his stance, staring down the bag. He started with quick jabs, not putting too much force behind them, but staying quick on his feet. If he had an advantage it was his smaller size. Nines would have fewer areas to hit and he'd have to be more careful where each blow landed. 

He sped up, now using his right hand for more powerful hits, dancing around the bag, ducking on occasion. 

God everyone was going to be bidding on Nines. His replacement if Cyberlife had had its way. The man whose eyes were a beautiful blue, with those lips that sometimes quirked up into a smirk. The way he didn't seem to give a shit when Gavin decided to be a dick. The glances he sent Connor when that happened, playfully rolling his eyes. 

The way Connor tried to not meet those eyes. The way his stomach flipped the first time he had heard Nines actually laugh. It had been so short but Connor had unconsciously saved the audio file. The way Connor wanted to know if he really did as good of hugs as he looked. 

God, Connor hated his perfect hair. He hated how Nines seemed to be able to stand completely still for hours when Connor could barely sit still for ten minutes without needing to fidget with someone. 

The next blows landed harder and he stopped ducking, breath coming out quickly. 

Who did Nines think he was? Being too damn perfect. Why did if always have to butt in on Connor's things. He didn't need Nines being all high and mighty, solving Connor's cases when he had his own. 

"Fuck!" Connor cursed, punching so hard his fist went through the bag. He stumbled and his eyes went wide. He always made sure to keep his strength in check, yet his emotions got the best of him. Nines probably never had that problem. 

"I do hope you aren't planning to do that to me on our little contest." Nines' voice rang out across the gym and Connor yelped, pulling his hand out. It was covered by a thin layer of his own blue blood. He shook it out with a hiss before trying to hide it behind his back from Nines. He didn't need him to see how weak he was. 

"Don't worry, I won't." He grumbled, using his ok hand to push the hair back out of his face. 

Nines gave a low hum and walked over, looking at the now useless bag. "I wish we could call this nonsense off."  

"What, think you're too good to fight me?" Connor snapped, crossing his arms with a slight grimace from the pain. He'd need to grab a bottle of thirium so his self-repair would kick in again. He hadn't even meant to turn that off. 

"No, I'd simply prefer to not hurt you." Nine's words had him scoffing and shaking his head. 

"Oh, that's rich." 

"Rich?"

"Ugh, nothing." He waved him off and reached up to unhook the bag but was just a tad too short. He squinted up at it before looking around for something small to step up one. 

"Here, allow me." Nines said and easily reached the distance, getting it down onto the ground and against the wall to take out later. "Would you like me to get you another one? Perhaps one that's heavier if you plan on using extra strength." 

Connor pulled at his hair, glaring at Nines. "I don't need your help! You know, you're not so perfect." Connor pointed at Nines. "I was here first, you can't just fucking replace me!" God, he hated how similar he sounded to Gavin. But it did open his eyes to what Gavin had gone through, how frustrating and scary it could hem 

"I do not plan on replacing you, and I know I'm far from perfect. That is why I've been trying to learn from you." It almost sounded like a question and Connor thought he saw the embarrassment and even insecurity. 

"Learning from me?! All you've done is try to butt in and solve cases, picking up things I've doubted or just doing fucking everything! I don't need help, Nines." It felt so good to finally say it, better than punching the bag had been. 

Nines took a step back, hurt flashing across his face before it became neutral again. "I apologize for what I had come across as. I simply… I wanted to learn from you and even impress you." The last part was mumbled and Nines couldn't meet his eyes. 

Connor couldn't even process what he had said for a few seconds. Why would Nines want to impress him? Connor wasn't anything special, especially not in comparison to Nines. The only one who truly tried to impress him was Sumo and on incredibly rare occasions, Hank. "Wait, why?" 

Nines seemed to stall for a second before reaching out and pulling Connor's wrist from behind his back. Connor winced at the sight more than the pain as Nines looked his hand over. The skin on his knuckles had receded and small little cuts drew the blood out of him. 

Nines gently brushed his thumb over Connor's knuckles, holding his hand so gently. It sent a shiver up his spine as he stared at his hand. Why was Nines doing this? Why was he being so gentle and careful? Why was he even holding Connor's hand in the first place?! 

"Nines?" Connor whispered, looking up at him. He worried that if he talked too loud whatever this was would stop. And for some reason, Connor didn't want Nines to stop holding his hand. 

"You need thirium." Nines mumbled, still focused on Connor's knuckles. His hands were bigger than Connor's and easily held his like they were meant to hold him. 

"I know." He wiggled his fingers just slightly and Nines ran his own fingers over Connor's. He was so tender with him like he would break if he put too much pressure. "Nines, why do you want to impress me?" 

Nines finally looked up from their hands to meet Connor's eyes. Connor noticed a very slight blue tint to his face and he wanted to reach up and touch, see how warm his skin would be.

Nines used one of his hands to reach up and carefully brush a hair back away from Connor's face. "Because you're you. I wanted your attention but you seemed to hate me, so I thought I could help. I wanted you to talk to me." 

Connor's breath caught, eyes wide. Nines had wanted Connor's attention? But why? That still didn't make sense. Why would Nines even want to be near him, let alone talk to him?  

"Spar with me." He blurted out before cringing at himself. "If you want. I'm just, I'm not always good with words." Plus he had far too much energy and needed to get it out before he could properly think with Nines so close.

Nines nodded before frowning. "I'll have to wrap your hand first, wait right here." 

Nines moved confidently across the room to the first aid kits. Connor stood there shocked, his hands shaking gently. This was happening? Nines cared about him. He hadn't meant to be a dick. 

He jolted when he felt Nines take his hand again, spraying a cleaner onto his knuckles and carefully rubbed his knuckles before starting to wrap his hand. 

He did it quickly and efficiently before stepping back and letting the hand go. "How does that feel?" Nines asked. 

Connor flexed his hand before nodding. "It feels good, thank you Nines." 

Nines nodded and led them over to the extra padded area where anyone could spar. Nines hadn't taken off his jacket or shoes, so Connor kept his own on as he stepped up. 

They watched each other before Nines came at Connor. He quickly moved out of the way, trying to grab at Nines's outstretched arm to no avail. 

Suddenly his fist was slamming into Nines's face while he one sunk into Connor's stomach. They stumbled apart for a brief second to catch their breaths before diving back at each other, eyes narrowed in determination.

Connor dodged his fist and came up with his own; for a brief instant, Nines's blue eyes widened before he managed to tilt his head back and slam it into mine. Stars burst into Connor's vision but he shook it off, blinding throwing a kick.

Nines stepped back, easily evading the kick. "Is that all you got?" Nines taunted, smirking. Connor growled and threw himself at Nines, changing direction at the last minute. He dropped and swept his leg, huffing when Nines jumped over. 

He expected it, anticipated it, and in the moments after landing, he let his body relax but let out an oof as Nines managed to cause Connor to fall. 

Nines went to grab Connor's legs but he twisted in the hold and kneed him in the stomach. The large android fell forward onto Connor but caught himself before he could squish him. 

Connor squinted up at him, moving them to try and throw Nines off but with little success. The mats edges dug into him and he gave a devilish smile. He found the edge and pushed hard enough to get the mat to slide. It was enough of a distraction to allow him to flip them and straddle Nines. 

"Hah!" Connor grinned, grabbing Nines's wrist and pinning his hands above his head. Nines squinted at him and shifted just enough to get the right angle and rolled them. 

Connor's breath left him again as Nines pushed him down onto the mat, using his extra body weight to keep him down. Connor tried to wiggle out of the hold, but it only caused him to whine sharply. 

His eyes widened at his own reaction, but Nines kept him pinned. "Do you yield?" He asked, staring him down. Connor wrapped his legs around Nines in a last attempt to push him forward to make him lose balance but it didn't work. Instead, it only caused their bodies to slide against each other. 

They both froze at that but neither said anything, just staring at each other. Connor was sure his entire face was flushed blue. 

"Do you yield?" Nines asked again, their faces only an inch apart. Connor watched as Nines's eyes flicked down to his lips then back up to his eyes. Connor licked his lips and his back arched just slightly, trying to get closer. 

"Make me." He whispered. Nines growled and leaned forward, crushing their lips together. Connor moaned and pushed up against Nines, trying to pull him down with his legs still wrapped around him. 

God his lips really were perfect and felt so good against his own. Nines's lips were hot against Connor's, his tongue burning a warm, wet path into his mouth. Eager hands fumbled at Nines's clothing, undoing his fly, waiting for the ok. He gets it by a low groan and Connor slips his hand in. 

He runs his hands up and down, teasing Nines through his underwear, probably the same Cyberlife issued boxers. Nines groans and rolls his hips down. 

His hands travel down Connor's body before pushing his shirt up and sliding his hands under, finding every sensitive spot. 

"Ah, Nines!" Connor gasped, back arching off the mat. Nines hums and trails hot kisses down Connor's throat, hands moving away to drag the jacket off Connor then quickly unbutton Connor's shirt. 

Shit, why hadn't they done this before? Nines and Connor slid perfectly together, and Connor would barely stand it. "More. Nines, fuck, more." 

Connor yelped when Nines stood up, easily picking him up before pushing him against the wall. He used only one arm to keep him up while the other unzipped Connor.

Connor wiggled and let his pants fall to the floor before wrapping his legs around Nines again. It was completely unfair how easily Nines held him up like he weighed nothing. Yet it was one of the hottest things he'd seen. 

Nines went back to attack Connor's neck, grinding against him. Connor could feel the cold press of the zipper but he focused on the large cock underneath it. God damn, even his dick was bigger than Connor's. 

"Ah! Yes!" Connor's eyes squeezed shut, his hips rolling in time, trying to get as much friction as possible. "Yes!" 

"Connor, what do you want? How far do you want this to go?" Nines asked, pulling back so they could look at each other. 

"I want you to fuck me. Don't even dare think about holding back, I can take it all." He could and gladly would. 

Nines nodded and all but tossed Connor back onto the mat, pulling his clothes off and folding them. Connor groaned at the wait but it was oddly adorable and charming. Not to mention how turned on he was at the roughness. 

He reached down and pulled himself out of his boxers, slowly pumping his hand. "Mmh! Fuck!" He moaned, not having done anything like this in a while. He'd been too focused on Nines and the stupid fucking bet.

He squeezed his eyes closed, knees bent and his toes digging into the mat. Then he felt a strong warm hand wrap around the base and squeeze just enough to leave him gasping from a mixture of pain and pleasure. 

His eyes snapped open and saw Nines glowering down at him. He was just so big and Connor could see his muscles rippling as he positioned himself over Connor. "Did I tell you you could touch yourself?" 

"You were taking too damn long!" Connor pouted, trying to buck into the hands. Nines squeezed slightly tighter and Connor yelped. 

"The answer to the question was no, no I did not. If you want me to fuck your tight little ass then you'll follow my directions or get punished. Do you understand?" Nines reached up and grabbed a fistful of hair, tugging sharply. 

Connor whimpered and nodded. "Yes! Yes, please, I understand. I'll be good." He'd be so good for him. 

Nines roughly let go of Connor's hair, letting his head fall back into the mat before loosening the pressure and slowly dragging his hand up. "There's a good boy." Connor squeezed his eyes closed and tried to keep still, but it was so much. "Oh, you like that? I thought you would."

Connor nodded his head again and let out a surprised squeak when two fingers were roughly pushed into him. Even now he could feel Nines holding back, not using his full strength. 

"I've thought about how I'd fuck you. I was worried I'd be too rough, too strong, but you like it. You want to be thrown around and shown your place, hmm? Fuck you so hard you can't stand. No one else can do that, only me." It was so true, he knew that Nines could fuck him harder and faster than anyone else. He'd be able to feel this for weeks. 

"Only you. Please Nines, please." He begged and would get on his knee to beg too if he had to. He practically drilled when Nines freed himself from his boxers, adding in another finger. 

Connor had a flash of panic, not sure he could even take that much, but he sure as hell would try. Later he could also try sucking on him, letting Nines fuck his throat too. "Oh shit." 

Nines smirked and without warning added a fourth finger, stretching quickly before pulling all his fingers out. "You still want this?" 

Connor nodded and thankfully held back the yelp when Nines flipped him over and slid himself all the way in with one fluid movement. Connor silently screamed before his head dropped to his chest. 

Nines held him by the hips, fingers digging in enough that the skin had to pull away there to reveal his chassis. Connor could barely even think so he was immensely glad when Nines did all the work. Pulling out before snapping his hips forward and using his hold in Connor's hips to drag him back. 

Each thrust had Connor gasping and his hands and legs trembling. He rambled words he didn't even understand but Nines just kept going, fucking him deeper and harder just like he promised. 

"I'm gonna fuck you like this until you come, then I'm going to keep fucking you again and again. You'll never be able to imagine anyone but me in you." Nines snapped his hips forward and Connor moaned, his toes curling. 

Nines reached down and took Connor in hand, pumping in time with his quick harsh thrusts. "Just like that, baby. Feel so damn good." 

Connor bit his lip, hands trying to find something to grab onto. But his head was yanked back as Nines held his hair, and Connor couldn't hold back anymore. 

He tried to warn Nines but he was already spilling over the mat with a silent scream. The gym may be in the basement but it wasn't completely soundproof, and Connor was not going to be caught.  

Nines pulled him up and spun him around before pulling Connor back down, only now he was sitting in his lap facing Nines. 

"Damn, maybe I can win at the fight if you come this fast." Nines captured Connor's lips in his before Connor could make a snarky comeback. 

He felt tears start streaming down his face at the overstimulation, but Nines didn't stop until he'd come two more times, and only then did Nines let himself come, holding Connor by his hips. 

Connor knew he'd be sore not just from the sex but also all the times Nines had thrown him around into a new position. Nines had to carry him to a seat and then handed him a bottle of thirium as he looked him over. 

"You ok, Connor? Was I too rough?" He asked, making sure he drank the whole bottle first, hands massaging his thighs. 

Connor nodded and leaned forward, pressing a gentle kiss to his lips. He felt so content and exhausted in the best way. "You were amazing, but do you know what this means?" 

Nines tilted his head then softly shook it, reaching up to gently soothe his hair. "No?" 

"I know how to beat you in our fight." Connor grinned so widely and broke out into giggles as Nines all but pounced on him, tickling his sides. 

Neither left the gym until the very early morning but they held hands and Connor promised to see him soon with a kiss.

[rjhpandapaws]

A Hand in the Matter

Ch8: Make a Home Here

Richard would eventually learn that when seeking help he should probably ask Connor rather than Silas, and he shouldn't ask them both. It was a mistake he probably wouldn't make again given how it went this time.

The Family Feud

UnluckyNine: I need help. I think I made a mistake.

UnluckyNine: I don't think I'm ready to have someone in my apartment for two days.

UnluckyNine: I know its only Gavin, but this is kind of a big deal.

Sixty-Second-Set: Its still a couple days away right? Just cancel last minute, that's what I would do.

Sixty-Second-Set: Wait. Who is Gavin?

Sixty-Second-Set: Why is he staying with you for two days!

Sixty-Second-Set: Where did you meet him? Have you seen him before? Is his name actually Gavin?

Sixty-Second-Set: Do you have proof he's real? Are you sure he's not a serial killer?

RunawayArkait: Silas, stop. Gavin is a friend of Richard's from school.

RunawayArkait: He's staying the weekend because he is helping Richard renovate his apartment.

RunawayArkait: They met at the cafe. Yes his name is Gavin, and they go to school together so obviously they've seen each other.

RunawayArkait: He's not a serial killer Silas. He isn't smart enough.

RunawayArkait: Anyway Richard, you want to do this right? It would be best to just get it over with. Because if you don't do it this weekend, it will just be hanging over your head for whenever you reschedule it.

Sixty-Second-Set: Solution! If he isn't there at a decent time, don't let him in.

RunawayArkait: As someone who was an hour late to their own birth, I don't think you should be the one to give time based ultimatums.

Sixty-Second-Set: Fuck off, Connor. You were an hour early.

UnluckyNine: Thanks for the help. I'll just see how I'm feeling on Friday

RunawayArkait: It'll be fine Nines, you'll see.

Sixty-Second-Set: Call Connor if you need back up.

Sixty-Second-Set: He can call Nora, or whatever her name is, and she can come kick his ass.

RunawayArkait: Her name is North, and he won't need to because its going to be fine.

UnluckyNine: Thanks for the advice

Sixty-Second-Set: Of course! That's what big brothers are for.

RunawayArkait: Its gonna be fine. I promise

The rest of his week was spent getting ready for Gavin to come over. Cleaning. Making sure he had sheets and a blanket big enough for the pull out bed. Cleaning the pull out bed. He went grocery shopping and bought snacks and junk food like what he had seen at Gavin's apartment. Almost texted Gavin on several occasions to cancel, and then deleted them. After the longest and most stressful week in recent history, it was finally Friday. There would be no backing out last minute, he wasn't Silas. On top of that, he was actually looking forward to seeing Gavin. As if on cue his phone lit up with a message from the man in mention.

Gavin Reed: Getting ready to head your way. Need me to pick anything up on my way over?

Me: No. Not that I can think of.

Gavin Reed: Alright, see you soon.

Richard set his phone on the kitchen island and gave his apartment another once over. Making sure everything was where it was supposed to be, that his apartment was presentable. Richard himself was dressed in a more relaxed way than usual. He had on blue sweatpants from Silas, that said University of Idaho Theater Fest down the left leg, and an oversized blank white hoodie. He didn't want Gavin to give him a hard time for going over dressed at home a second time. His phone vibrated against the counter top.

Gavin Reed: On my way up to you.

Me: Ok. The door is unlocked.

He put his phone back down on the island and made his way over to the door and unlocked it. He glanced at the shoe rack by the door. A small grey thing. The impulse purchase that had started all of this. He smiled and headed back to the kitchen.

Normally he would be waiting in the living room, but that was going to be Gavin's space for the weekend. He leaned against the counter until his nervous energy became too much to handle. He opened the fridge and dug through it, looking for the bottles of soda he had bought. He heard Gavin come in, followed by the sound of his shoes hitting the shoe rack. He looked up when Gavin spoke.

"Where do you want this?" He asked gesturing to the bag on his shoulder, an excited smile curling at his lips.

Richard straightened up and pointed at the couch since that was where they decided Gavin would be spending the weekend. With that taken care of, Richard grabbed the two bottles of old fashioned soda and set them on the island. He turned to grab the bottle opener since he didn't know if they were twist tops or not. He slid a bottle over to Gavin when he came back to the kitchen.

"Thanks." Gavin said as he took the bottle, "I got you something, a bit of a house warming gift."

Gavin's other hand came up and he placed a hastily wrapped box on the counter. He slid it over to Richard like it would have bit him if he didn't. Richard opened it carefully, not wanting to tear the paper. The box didn't have a label or anything that would hint as to what was inside, and Richard didn't want to shake it in case it was something fragile. He set the box down on the counter and carefully opened the top. He took out a white mug. Richard turned it over in his hands to see if it had a design on it. He found 'Silence is Golden' written in pretty light blue font. He set the mug down so he could sign and felt a smile tugging at his lips.

'Thank You.' He signed, 'I Love It.'

"I'm glad," Gavin said with a smile of his own, "I saw it in the campus bookstore and thought you might like it."

Richard took a drink from his bottle, trying to ignore the clutter on the counter. Gavin had gotten him something, saw it and thought Richard would like it. Connor and Silas were really the only other people who did that.

"What's the plan for tonight?" Gavin's voice pulled him from his thoughts. He was heading for the living room, "Online shopping, actual shopping, relaxing, or starting on changing around the place."

Richard came to sit beside him on the couch, leaning into the back rest some. Gavin, on the other hand looked like he had melted into it, he looked relaxed and comfortable. A contrast to the tensness that was still clinging to Richard, he was trying his best to relax. His fingers were tapping against the bottle in a rapid staccato pattern. He didn't really want to do anything tonight. If he was honest, he didn't want to do any of this, but Gavin was already here and it was too late to back out. He figured they could just hang out for tonight and worry about the apartment tomorrow.

He finally set the bottle down since he had come to a decision. Richard tried explaining this to Gavin, but he couldn't find signs that conveyed what he meant that were also signs that Gavin knew, and he didn't want to fingerspell everything. He let his frustration out as a sigh. Gavin was picking up ASL quickly, and Richard was proud of him, it was just that he was feeling more than what child-sign could express. So it was only natural that his texts didn't even scratch the surface either.

Me: Could we stay in tonight? Relax and maybe look at things online?

Me: I don't think I'm ready to do much else yet.

"That's perfectly fine," Gavin said as he turned on the tv, flipping to some cartoon he liked listening to, "We'll only do what you're comfortable with."

That was how their afternoon went. Gavin told Richard about his week as he looked at stuff online. Writing down a list of things he wanted to buy and the stores the website said he could find them at. It was comforting to come up with a plan for the weekend so it didn't feel so much like he was going into this blind.

Hours passed and they were just talking. Gavin was talking and Richard was texting his responses. It was a normal evening for them, up until Gavin's stomach growled loudly interrupting the story Gavin had been telling.

'Food?' Richard signed, not bothering to hide the amusement. He was feeling a little hungry himself.

"Yeah, that would probably be a good idea," Gavin said, a laugh hanging onto his words as he covered his stomach, "You in the mood to cook or is it a take out kind of night?"

Definitely a take out kind of night. Richard couldn't cook to save his life and he wasn't about to expose Gavin to that. He pulled up the app and tapped on his usual Italian place and picked the same thing he always got before handing the phone off to Gavin. He took his time picking before handing the phone back. Richard placed the order and Gavin went back to his story.

The conversation fell away when the food arrived. The two of them falling into a familiar and content silence. They relaxed like that for a time, eventually passing notes. Gavin in the mood to talk, but not in the mood to speak. It was nice, and they stayed like that for hours. Enjoying each other's company until Gavin yawned bad enough that it sounded like something in his jaw broke.

"So how are we doing this Nines?" Gavin asked, rubbing at his face and muffling his words.

'You Take Couch.' He signed slow and clear since Gavin was tired, 'I Take Bed.'

With that established Richard began packing up the remaining food and putting it away. Leaving Gavin to handle the garbage. It reminded him of when he spent the evenings at Gavin's. Getting the pull out bed set up didn't take long and he let Gavin get ready for bed first since he looked like he was going to fall asleep if he stayed in one place for too long. It was new, but not unsettling to have someone else here, but he supposed it was because he was used to being around Gavin.

He took his turn getting ready for bed, and once he was done for the night, he checked in with Silas like he promised he would.

Me: I'm not dead.

Silas: Did he do anything weird.

Me: No.

Me: He bought a coffee mug as a house warming gift which was nice

Silas: You're alright then?

Me: I promise.

Me: I'm going to bed now.

Silas: Sleep well.

When morning rolled around Richard got ready for the day, a grey turtle neck paired with dark jeans, and made his way to the kitchen as quietly as he could. Being mindful of Gavin, who was still passed out on the couch. He got the coffee grounds out and into the machine before he heard signs of life from the living room. Gavin came into the kitchen as though summoned by the spluttering of the coffee machine.

"Good morning Richard," Gavin managed through his yawn, his sea green eyes barely showing signs of life. "How did you sleep?"

'Good Morning.' Richard signed back with a smile, 'I Slept Fine.'

The kitchen fell silent after that. Gavin was leaning against the counter, in the small corner made by it and the fridge. His eyes were open and he was looking around, but it didn't seem like he was seeing anything. Richard hadn't gotten to witness pre-coffee Gavin before, and now he understood why Gavin's texts this time of day were only one word. It was kind of endearing to see a new side of Gavin.

Richard grabbed mugs as the coffee finished, a plain one for Gavin, as well as the one Gavin had bought him. He poured Gavin's first, leaving room for the abysmal amount of cream he felt the need to add to his coffee, and pointed the semi-alert male in the direction of the fridge. He poured his own next, then returned the pot to the machine.

"That's some good coffee," Gavin joked tiredly when he caught Richard looking at him.

'You Monster,' Richard signed back with his free hand and pulling a face to make his point.

Silence settled over the kitchen again, though this time it was content rather than exhausted. Richard was absently staring out the window, going over the plan for the weekend in his head. Today they were shopping, picking up the things Richard had decided on last night. He liked them and hoped they would make his apartment feel less like a hospital room.

Gavin got ready quickly after he finished his coffee and met Richard at the door when he was ready to leave. They were taking Richard's car because Gavin had brought his bike over. He was glad to have Gavin with him since he'd never done any important shopping like this before. What he had now was a collection of things that used to belong to Connor and Silas that had sat in storage when they had moved. The things they were getting today would be Richard's and would finally make the apartment feel like it was his.

Richard had made a list of stores along with what he hoped to find at each one last night. When they arrived at the first store he found a place to park that was relatively close.

'Ready?' He signed at Gavin as he got unbuckled.

"Yeah." Came Gavin's reply as he got out.

Richard joined them and they made their way inside. The store was big and had an open floor plan with furniture on one side and decorations on the other. He made his way through the store picking things out that were on his list, crossing them off as well as other stores as he got them. He also picked up a few novelty things that caught his eye, including a present for Gavin. It was a mug that said 'cunt' in black print with the letter 'c' making up the handle. He figured Gavin would get a kick out of it given his sense of humor.

The other stops went similarly. Richard getting things off his list as well as a few other things that caught his eye. Some of them for Gavin when he did well on signing or passed his Psychology tests. None of the places they went had the shelves he wanted for his room. One place had some that were similar, and he bought them for his office. They were going to try one last place before giving up and ordering them online.

The store his phone directed them to was massive. The website said they at least sold the shelves he was looking for, but didn't say if they had any in stock. Looking couldn't hurt.

He and Gavin wandered the store. Following the signs in hopes of finding the shelves. They were stopped in an aisle trying to get their bearings. Richard didn't think they were going to find the shelves here. He was going to say as much to Gavin, but he saw a girl in the store's uniform coming toward them. Maybe she could help.

She spoke to them as she approached, "Can I help you and your..." her eyes moved from Richard to Gavin and then back as she chose her words, "partner find anything specific."

Richard froze. His partner? She meant Gavin, he knew that much, but it wasn't like that. They weren't like that. It wasn't like that. Richard tried telling her that but his signs wouldn't cooperate. He turned to Gavin, silently begging for help because he didn't know how to get out of this situation.

"Oh, uh. No. We're alright, thanks." Gavin sounded just as embarrassed as Richard felt, he hadn't explained that they weren't together, but his words had gotten the sales clerk to leave them be, which was just as good.

They stared at one another for a long while, the silence between them wasn't awkward, but there was something hanging in it. Gavin broke into a smile and then broke down into uncontrollable laughter. It got to the point that he was nearly doubled over. Richard's own anxiety was beginning to subside and he couldn't help but smile at Gavin, the other's delight rubbing off on him. They didn't find the shelves, but that was fine.

"Let's head back," Gavin said when he finally had control over his breathing. "We can pick up some food on the way back. Then order the shelves when we get back to your place."

Richard found himself hyper aware of how close he was to Gavin the rest of the night. Keeping a friendly distance between them and decided he could give him the mug another time. He didn't want to give Gavin the wrong impression.

They continued talking about it, Richard taking delight in Gavin's awkwardness. They exchanged pleasant stories and memories well into the evening. The late night hours became early morning and when they were both sagging into the pull out bed, Richard decided it was time to get some sleep.

'Okay,' Richard signed as he stood with a yawn, 'Bed Time.'

He let Gavin use the bathroom first again. When Richard was done for the night he climbed into bed and messaged Silas.

Me: Today was interesting

Silas: What did Garrett do?

Me: Gavin.

Me: He didn't do anything, but a worker at a furniture mistook us for a couple.

Silas: You said he wasn't doing anything!

Me: He wasn't. We were just kind of close

Silas: Why?

Me: We were lost.

Me: Anyway, its late so I'm going to sleep.

Silas: Be safe

Me: Always

Richard woke up at his usual time, the late night not quite beating natural habit. Like yesterday, Richard went about making coffee as quietly as possible. Since they were staying at the apartment he was back in comfortable clothes. The same blue sweatpants as before and a loose black t-shirt with an old style cat emoji on it. Just like the day before, the smell off coffee brought a barely coherent Gavin into the kitchen.

"Morning." Gavin muttered, sounding like he would much rather be asleep. "Today's the day. Are you excited?"

'Morning.' Richard signed back, choosing to answer Gavin's question with a nod. He didn't look awake enough for more signing.

When the coffee finished he poured Gavin's first sliding it over to him so he could get around to actually waking up. Richard poured his own next, holding it in his hands to soak up the warmth. He found himself watching Gavin, and rolled his eyes when the other all but moaned into his coffee. Understanding the sentiment, Richard lifted his own mug in a mock salute.

"Look. One of us can't function before eleven in the morning." He complained, hiding a yawn behind his mug before he took another drink, "Its not my fault you can't wake up at a normal time."

'Waking Up Afternoon Not Normal,' he replied dryly, winking at Gavin in place of a smile. Richard found morning's to be the most peaceful time of day and he liked them the best.

"Richard." He groaned gesturing to the window with his free hand, "Its the weekend. Its practically against the law to wake up early on the weekend."

'Yet Here You Are.' Richard felt himself smiling as he signed, 'Awake Early Sunday Morning.'

Gavin rolled his eyes and gave a genuine but tired laugh, "Okay, no need to be so damn smug. You've made your point."

'Have I?' Richard asked with the quirk of a brow.

This earned him getting flipped off by Gavin. He rolled his eyes again and hid a broad smile behind his mug. Gavin finished his coffee first and cleaned his mug out in the sink, setting it aside when he was done.

"Alright, I'm going to start by cleaning up my shit from the living room," he gestured in the vague direction of the couch, but Richard got the idea. "Then where do you want me?"

'My Room.' Richard signed before finishing off the rest of his coffee and cleaning out the mug.

Richard went to his room with every intention of redecorating but caught sight of his open closet doors. Part of making this apartment his was getting rid of those. He walked back out of his room to the hall closet, he opened the door and dug around until he found his tool kit. Richard took it back to his room and got started on the doors. He was working on the one farthest from the bedroom door. He got the top hinge detached without a problem. With that out of the way, he sat down and got to work on the bottom hinge. He heard Gavin knock on the doorframe before he spoke.

"What," Gavin started from behind him, sounding genuinely confused, "are you doing?"

Richard, personally, thought what he was doing was rather obvious. He was taking his closet doors off their frame. He gestured to the door as a way to get his point across and got back to work.

"Okay," Gavin continued, sounding just as confused as before, "and you're taking the door off its hinges because why exactly?"

Richard took a deep breath, letting it put as a frustrated sigh. After making sure the door wasn't going to fall if he left it unattended, he turned to face Gavin.

'I Do Not Like Noise They Make. Help Me.' He emphasized the last two signs by pointing at Gavin, then at the door that was still standing.

"You have a plan of what you're gonna do once they're off?" He asked as he walked over and leaned against the frame of the closet.

'No.' He stopped for a moment, wondering if they could fit in his car, deciding they couldn't he moved on, 'Do Not Want Them Here.'

"We'll figure it out I guess," came Gavin's response as he stood upright again, he eyed the door before he looked back at Richard, "you got anything to make this easier or are we just gonna brute force it?"

As much as Richard would have loved to see that, he didn't think the complex owners wouldn't like it too much if they couldn't replace the doors. He reached behind himself for the screwdriver he had been using and handed it to Gavin.

They worked in silence after that. Getting thr doors off and finding a place for them took longer than Richard thought it would. They settled for sticking them in the back of the bathroom closet, he found the irony of that a little amusing. The shelves for his room wouldn't be coming in for another ten days, but everything else could be set up today.

He took his time in his room, reorganizing things as he got it put together. Richard enjoyed himself as he redecorated his room, relaxing as the space came to look more lived in. His room came to have a blue and grey color scheme that he found calming and visually appealing. He took a picture of the finished product to send to Silas and Connor, making sure Gavin wasn't in the shot. Silas would lose it if he saw him in Richard's room, he would get the wrong idea.

The office came next, and setting up the shelves took the longest. Organizing them was easy though. The one to the right of the door as you came in was for books and paper work, the one to the left came to hold office supplies, a ship in a bottle, and a Lucky Cat statue from Gavin. Like with his bedroom, Richard took a picture to send to his brothers once Gavin had left.

Richard worked on the bathroom next, which didn't take him long. It was just changing the shower curtains and putting up different towels. The shower curtain was a blown up picture of the beach. Another picture that was sent to his brothers.

The last room left to do was the living room. Richard left it as the last room so Gavin had time to get all of his stuff together. He started with the media stand, placing ocean themed glass globes on either side of the tv, and light blue fairy lights along the front of the shelf. He placed two grey costers in shade order from lightest to darkest on each corner of the coffee table and a line of three white-blue electric candles along the center of it.

The couch was the last thing left to be decorated. Richard went back to his room to grab the bags of throw pillows. When he came back he couldn't find Gavin. Assuming he was in the bathroom, Richard started on the couch. He was smacked on the back with something soft, and turned to find Gavin triumphantly holding a pillow with "fuck off" stitched into it with light purple thread. He smacked Richard again, this time in the chest. It was on now.

Richard took a pillow off the couch and grinned at Gavin who seemed to realize he was a little out of his depth. He threw the pillow at Gavin causing him to back up, it hit him in the chest anyway. He ducked under the next one and threw his pillow at Richard. He caught it effectively disarming Gavin.

He backed Gavin into the wall with a barrage of pillows and was poised to throw the "fuck off" pillow when Gavin finally called his surrender.

"Okay! Okay!" He managed between bouts of laughter, "I'm sorry for smacking you with that pillow. Even if you deserved it."

Richard still threw the pillow, hitting Gavin lightly in the shoulder. They got to work setting up the pillows at each armrest, some along the back. Gavin placing the "fuck off" pillow in the center so it could easily be seen. When he moved away from the couch, Richard took a picture of the living room, making sure Gavin was in the shot this time, and sending it to his brothers.

"There its perfect." Gavin said, turning to face Richard with a smile as he put his phone away, "home sweet home."

Richard returned the smile, something light and warm making its home in his chest as he looked at Gavin, 'Home Sweet Home.'

For the first time, it felt true. This apartment was finally a home, a place where he could simply be, rather than be confined to. It was a new feeling and he liked it. Richard hoped one day he had the right words to thank Gavin for this.

[nzvalley]

The “Broken Bow” Novelization, Part 3

T'Pol’s Turn

Rigel and Archer’s Decision

We see that Archer is trying to integrate T’Pol into the crew.

Archer paused and looked at T’Pol, indicating that she should take over. The crew should become accustomed to hers as the voice or the science officer. (p. 125)

Another fairly important moment, at least symbolically, is at the end of their trip to Rigel, when Archer must choose between Trip’s advice and T’Pol’s on where the shuttle is located. He chooses to listen to T’Pol over Trip, acknowledging the that T’Pol has been there and has more experience with the place (and, in my headcanon, remembering her greater senses).

When T’Pol is blown across the platform by the exhaust, then targeted by the Suliban, Archer risks his life to save hers. He is immediately concerned, ultimately risking not just his life but his mission and his authority over his ship.

“T’Pol was directly under the exhaust. The force knocked her off her feet and blew her across the deck. She had been near the shuttlepod and now she was way over there, shifting and dazed, alone, unarmed. ... “Go!” he called to her. “Enterprise needs its captain!” she called back. “Give me the weapon!” “I said, go!” To her credit, she hesitated another moment. During that moment he struck her with a look so forceful that she must have realized she wouldn’t be changing his mind. (p.160-161)

As he hallucinates after he is shot, he sees T’Pol in his fever dream.

Dad came to his side. “You can’t be afraid of the wind,” he said. “Learn to trust it.” Archer turned and looked up onto the dune. T’Pol stood watching him and his father as they worked the model ship and tried to make it fly. What was she doing here? (p. 162)

He may not want to admit it yet, but I think Archer is realizing that T’Pol is the wind that he is going to need to trust in order to succeed. That seems to match with the moment earlier, where he chooses to trust T’Pol to lead him back to the shuttlepod.

Archer saving her life at his expense is itself a major moment for T’Pol. It’s much harder to be hostile or hateful when someone saves your life.  

Although I hate decon scenes in general, and don’t particularly like this scene in the pilot, the book expands it at the beginning with a scene where Trip further lobbies for T’Pol to give Archer a chance. It also adds some interesting Archer/T’Pol elements.

“I wonder if you’ve got the steel to go off on your own. Maybe... the Captain must see something in you, or he wouldn’t have accepted you in his command line. He didn’t have to do that, you know. What do you think he saw? Youth? Grace?” “Those aren’t command traits,” she said. This time her voice was very quiet. “Hell, no, they aren’t,” Tucker shot back. “Not even your ‘Vulcan’ rank is enough to get you what you’re got here. You wouldn’t have it if Jonathan hadn’t given you the chance you’re denying him. We’re ‘only’ humans.. but we gave you the same trust we give each other. Now the captain’s asking you to return it. You got the guts?”

Archer’s earlier actions and Trip’s prodding get T’Pol to at least give Archer the chance to fail. 

What happened to ‘This is a foolish mission’?” “It is a foolish mission, she insisted. “the Suliban are clearly a hostile race with technology far superior to yours. But, as acting captain... I was obligated to anticipate your wishes.” Well, well, well. Had something changed in Archer’s dreams? “As acting captain,” he echoed, “you could’ve done whatever the hell you wanted to do.” Her cheeks flushed olive- just enough to notice- but she didn’t offer any explanations or comments on what he had just said to her.

As Trip posits about T’Pol’s behavior

It just might be,” Tucker said with a twinkle, “you’re having more effect on her than they are. Whoever they are.”

 Archer’s Suspicions and Report 

After T’Pol returns command back to Archer and leaves, there is a long scene not in the pilot where Trip and Archer speculate that T’Pol isn’t a spy after all. 

“I’d be the last person [Soval & Forrest’d] tell. Trip... what do you think of this... maybe the Vulcans really don’t know if they can be around humans and function for decades upon decades. Maybe Soval finally wants to know, once and for all, if we can exist together in hostile space and come out productive.” “You mean they’re testing us?” Archer thought about that, then dismissed it.  “I doubt it. They know everything there is to know about humanity. all you have to do is look at history. It’s all there. We don’t hide anything, even the worst things. Humans aren’t a mystery. But... Vulcans are still a mystery, even to each other. They don’t step out of that box very often, and they’re about to be kicked right out. it could be they’re testing themselves. And they’re using her to do it.” “T’Pol’s the guinea pig?” Tucker blurted. “They want to see how she’ll do? I’ll be damned!” “And it worked,” Archer said. “her technical expertise and ability to stay cool, side by side with my irrational leaps of anger and whatever else I’ve got... it worked. We came out of our first big test as a human-Vulcan team.” (p.174-175)

A really interesting read on T’Pol’s entire purpose on the ship, not too far from what I think the writers eventually tried to establish in the first two seasons: the fate of the relationship of Archer and T’Pol in particular portends the fate of future relations between humans and Vulcans in general. It also kind of establishes that the High Command selected T’Pol, maybe even placed her with Soval in preparation, because she was known to have struggles with emotions and perhaps could work with and among humans.

The scene of Archer making a report, but having to stop every few minutes due to his confusion about T’Pol, is one of the best in the aired Pilot. The novelization gives it a long prologue where Trip and Archer discuss time travel, but then gets into what we see in the pilot.

 Part of the Team

When called to the bridge, Archer challenges T’Pol one more time to work with them. And she responds this time with almost no hesitation. Seeing her response, Archer goes all in. He gives his full support, and they begin working in tandem. The pilot adds a complimentary line from Archer about T’Pol’s instincts.

He looked a bit dubious, and glanced at Archer, who nodded. “You heard her.” Reed hadn’t a clue what she was looking for, but did as he was bidden. T’Pol, while Reed worked, turned and met Archer’s eyes. For the first time they seemed to be thinking the same thing...

Archer looked at her again. “Those fragments weren’t from the Suliban ship.” T’Pol confirmed, “They were from fourteen... and all within the last six hours. I believe we’ve foudnd what we’re looking for.” Despite her reticence until now, she had a lit of victory in her voice. (p.189-190)

Not only is T’Pol fully invested, but she is now talking about “we.” Earlier there was a bitter moment because T’Pol was still thinking of herself as Soval’s or the High Command’s. 

“I wasn’t authorized to reveal the details of our findings.”  There it was- the problem in a nutshell. “Our” and “your” - “we” and “they.” She was here, but she wasn’t yet on the team. (p.116)

She is now fully on the team, thinking as “we” and openly, visibly feeling victorious among humans.

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 |

[that-random-chaos-entity]

Nehetari stood opposite this... ..."wolfish" human, regarding him and his extended hand. Then she grasped it firmly. In an old life, the grip in that hand could have crushed her arm like the thresher beetles used to crush the reeds along the Great Oasis. But so could Perturabo's, so she did not feel uneasy. If she even WOULD have felt uneasy.

But when she looked up to meet his gaze, his expression could not have been more different from the Iron titan that she had grown so close to. This "Leman Russ's" face was alight with the fire of excitement. Excitement, and they joy of one who feels they have found a true kindred spirit in the most unlikely of places.

"My history has earned respect from you." Nehetari stated. An observation, quivering on the edge of a question.

"'Tis only a REAL king who will down a keg and throw hands with their people, then be willin teh lead 'em inta battle from the front next day."

"One would think that a necessity for leading any group of individuals effectively."

"Ye'd be surprised. It's not a real common thing in the galaxy nowadays," the wolf-human mused. Then his expression turned serious, and the Mehlrose felt the twinge of psychic scrutiny brush along her psyche. Light as a feather, or more like the long hairs on the hide of some animal.

"If yer willin teh dance on a table drunk with every man, woman, and child, whether it be in a banquet or a roadside tavern, walk through teh maw of Morkai himself, an ice storm or one of yer rough lookin' deserts, to save an old, hobbled raisin of yer people, just because he's yer people... ...If these tales be true, if yer people's planet was as ye say, if ye have truly suffered as much as ye say, yet yeh can still feel such joy; such FIRE as I see in your eyes... ...well, I must admit, I respect teh cut of yer claws, xenos."

The cut of her... ...Nehetari removed her hand from the clasped-arm-goodwill-gesture and examined her claws carefully for a moment; an action that caused the large, furry beast of a human to let out a deep belly laugh, and turned Perturabo's obviously jealous glare into a eye-roll so intense it looked as if his eyes might abandon his skull entirely.

An outpouring of noise drew all eyes back to the black crystal's display. Two Necrontyr now stood atop the sandstone-like platform; their identical forms and features making it seem as if one was dancing with a full-body mirror. They swirled and stamped and belted out songs in Necrontyr, punctuated every once in a while by a swig from one of the great brown gourd-like containers at their sides. Rhythmic cheers enhanced their steps and arm movements, and Nehetari herself could be seen, looking about the same in the vid as she looked now, clapping in rhythm. She daintily kept time with her hands and was SMILING. Laughing even, when one of the two twin warriors accidentally planted his foot into her plate of food and slipped, narrowly missing landing on her as he tumbled. There was a DEAFENING silence, before the thin bell of her laughter caused a ripple of mirth to hesitantly start, then sweep the hall like a gale. The dancing continued, and more feet began to strike the ground as the drink took hold, and others joined in.

However, before too long, a series of other sounds could be heard; rhythmic metal taps exactly in time to the music, but they did not seem to be coming from the display. They turned to see two of her guard doing the same dance. Metal though they were, corrupted by the flayer virus though they were, their build and features were unmistakable. They were a perfect copy of eachother, and both Leman and Perturabo knew at once that, at one time, these were the same two displayed from the crystal.

"So then those are Kefi and Sefi?" Perturabo said, gesturing to the two fools in the vid, apologizing profusely and near falling over, so hard were trying to get some sort of mashed root vegetable off the one's bare feet. "THAT'S what they used to look like?"

"Kefi and Sefi, is it?" Leman moved from Nehetari's right flank to approach the still-dancing necrons. They detected his advent and stopped, giving a hiss of alarm and diving, but too late as the massive human swept them up into a headlock, laughing. "Aw, C'MON ye boney lot! I like yer style! I'd almost say I'd like to share a drink with ye, if yeh could still drink. It's good to see at least some xenos know how teh have some REAL fun!"

Perturabo was too beside himself to feel irritated at his brother's antics, or relieved that he was no longer holding onto Nehetari's shoulder. Leman. His brother LEMAN, was playing around with two NECRONS. FLAYED ONES no less. Was he that lonely without his sons? Desperate enough to pal around with xenos, just because they reminded him of his space wolves? With some amusement he watched as the two necrons squealed and scrabbled to get away, then seemingly became bemused and looked to Nehetari for approval; like baby animals to their mother.

Nehetari's face was neutral, but her eyes sparkled. She inclined her head in a silent, "Well go on then."

Two metallic heads turned to look at their assailant. And as one, they both spoke. It was in the most GRAVELLY of Necrontyr and thick with the flayer curse, but their translator scarabs intoned:

"Do you enjoy pharos scorpion honey mead?"

The Wolf King laughed so loud it rattled their carapaces.

"Well I don't know what 'pharos scorpion honey,' is, but I know mead and I LOVE IT!" He boomed, and just like that the tension was broken. They began to jabber at eachother about various drinks, about festivals and adventures of grandeur, and foods of exotic and mouth-watering nature.

Nehetari took the opportunity to slink over to where Perturabo stood. She did not speak; she knew he was upset with her, so she stood close and waited for him to give her a piece of his mind.

She did not wait long.

"I thought I told you to stay away from Russ.," he snarled.

Nehetari did not miss a beat. "You did. And I ignored you."

Perturabo whirled on her. "WHY!?"

"Because I must make my own conclusions."

"Tch! Of course, that's right. What I think be damned, you just can't stop yourself from making friends with everyone you can, can't you? Even when they've tormented me for most of my life."

"What better way to stop them tormenting you than to earn their respect, then use that respect to stop their abuse?"

Perturabo snorted. "Oh, is that your plan is it? What, do you think you're going to suddenly solve all my family issues by making friends with everyone?"

For a moment Perturabo thought he'd said the wrong thing, as Nehetari's neutral expression crumpled and she wrinkled her nose in disgust.

"No, your family is irreparable," she stated bluntly. "Also, your father disgusts me, your brother Mortarion disgusts me, your brother Alpharius confuses me, and your brother Rogal Dorn is boring. I have no desire to 'make friends' with them."

The Lord of Iron's next counter-argument died on his lips, and he couldn't help barking out a laugh.

"Fair enough I suppose. Wait, when did you meet Alpharius?"

"In the hallway. He bowed, said 'I am Alpharius,' shushed me, then vanished behind a painting."

"That's... ...concerning..." Perturabo muttered. "In any case, I don't want you getting chummy with my other brother's either. Nothing good can come of it."

Jealousy was all but dripping off that statement, but Nehetari did not comment on it. "Do not worry," she rubbed her head affectionately against his shoulder in a very cat-like manner, "I will not trade you for any of them."

"Quit it," The primarch growled, covering his face, but he did not move away. "...even Sanguinius?"

"Of course not. He smells like wet poultry. Also, despite what my father says, I'm certain he fancies him. He's certainly his 'type,' at least when it comes to-"

Perturabo's eyes flashed wide and he clapped a hand over her mouth.

"Do you want to fucking die!? You don't just say shit about Sanguinius!" But he couldn't help the faintest smile. At least he didn't have to feel jealous about ONE of his brothers.

...but still, the mental image of the Lanky Llama and Leman clasping arms made his gorge rise.

"Come, we are going back to the promethium forge," he growled with a finality that left no room for argument.

Nehetari nodded once. "As you wish." Then she followed him out of the hall.

The crystal, having been left behind in the rush, clattered to the floor, just before it was picked up by the Lord of Wolves.

[concrete-weed]

It’s hard to be a god (Malcolm Reed x reader)

summary: Reader pretends to be a goddess. Malcolm needs a hug.  trektober day 7- interspecies relationship                                                                    words:  1,877

read on AO3 here

-

When you first heard of the new "humans" your ship encountered, you mostly thought were quite brash, going into space with a barely finished ship and all, but during the weeks you lived among them, your opinion changed for the better. Humans are very different from your own species. Much louder for sure, but you eventually grew to like them.

The human ship was wrecked, their puppy dog approach to first contact wasn’t working so well. Starfleet had allowed four aliens to serve on Enterprise until the end of her mission, helping both diplomacy and the state of the human ship. Working on Enterprise has been a treat. You have been a doctor for three years. Working with doctor Phlox has offered many learning opportunities, so your career wasn’t suffering. Your social life, on the other hand, certainly was. You talked to the people you knew from your ship, but for the most part, they were in engineering while you were slaving away in med bay.

You had a friend in a few people, Hoshi, for example. You spent many lunch breaks helping her understand your language, not an easy task by any measure, and learning a human language called English. Through her, you have met most of the bridge crew. It was peculiar to watch them all interact.

One human, in particular, caught your eye, Malcolm Reed. He was a bit quiet for a human, which fascinated you. His dark hair and light eyes seemed majestic to you.  You knew that staring was considered rude by human standards, but the first time you met him it took Hoshi nudging you in the ribs to get you to tear your eyes off the mysterious human.

During your second month aboard Enterprise, captain Archer got a call from Admiral Forrest, saying that a planet 5 lightyears away is requesting immediate help with a medical crisis. All medical personnel were working day and night to find a cure, you being no exemption. For a week you were absolutely exhausted, so when captain Archer went down to your quarters to tell you were going to are on the away mission, you didn’t even register it until the debriefing.

“Okay, so this is a bit bizarre, ” God you were all so tired,” but the government insists that the locals will only accept our help if doctor L/N pretends to be their goddess of health.”

What?

“Half of the population already believes this is a gift from the gods anyway. I doubt you would need to make any change to your behavior.” Archer continued monotonously. With a civilization as evolved as theirs, he expected no interference from religion, no such luck.

“Excuse me, sir,” you said uneasily, “are you sure this is a good idea?”

“As much as I think that this is a ridiculous request to make of you doctor, I hope you will at least consider putting on this act. Malcolm and his men will be there if anything goes”.

Now you were here, standing in a long drapey light green dress. All of the away team was dressed in traditional clothing, leaving them a bit uncomfortable. The only people left in a Starfleet uniform were two security officers with phasers by their sides. Captain Archer insisted that the lieutenant needed to wear the strange clothes and respect the culture as the highest-ranking officer there. Malcolm’s clothes were similar to yours, the same shade of mint, the same writing along the edges of the garment. You unfortunately didn’t have time to think about what that meant. While doctor Phlox was teaching local doctors how to treat the deadly disease you were paraded around all the temples that were built in ‘your’ honor.

In them you saw many paintings that depicted the goddess and were eerily similar to you, almost all of them depicting the sick crying out to their goddess, hoping to be cured. The goddess was a little bit taller than you, her eyes a little more penetrating, even through the pictures, but essentially you were lead through the main room in that temple, looking at heart-wrenching scenes of yourself, saving the damned.  In some, the goddess was surrounded by other deities, her most common companion a shorter man, usually carrying a small child.

Finally, you got a break. Apparently, as the tour exclaimed, divine being needed to be given food before sunset, or the mortals around them would be punished. It seemed terrible to live like this, afraid of godly wrath every second of life but since you could do nothing you just went along with her.  She insisted that you should take your meals separately from your security detail, as the rest of the away party were all male. Malcolm pulled you aside from the woman.

“Are you sure this is safe? You will be alone in the dining hall.” Said Malcolm, pragmatic as always.

“I’m sure I’ll be fine. If anything is suspicious, I’ll just com you okay?” You answered hoping your voice sounded optimistic. You touched Malcolm’s upper arm in an attempt to comfort him. your gaze met his. You saw love in his brilliant blue-grey eyes. Or did you? Damn your wishful thinking. You quickly turned, walking back to the tour guide, you face a mask of calm, hiding your emotional turmoil.

The meal prepared for you was delicious but you couldn’t focus much on the conversation. Thankfully, your tour guide talked enough for the both of you.

“It is so wonderful you decided to come down to us! We have been awaiting your help for months.” you swore her nasal voice was going to drive you crazy, “My Lady, are you feeling okay?” you started stuttering out your answer but the guide cut you off. “Oh, you don’t have to explain yourself. We all have marital problems!” she added playfully. Marital problems?  

“Excuse me?” You hoped that your confusion won’t ruin the mission.

“My Lady, Archana? Oh, what does he go by now? Maco? Malcolm? Are you not married yet in this reincarnation?”

You remembered that during the tour the guide has mentioned that reincarnation was a major part of their mythology, still, the fact that she thought that you and Malcolm were married made your cheeks heat up. If you remembered correctly, the male deity, in this case, the god of protection, gave his life to protect his loved ones. The god will reappear in the next year, and the cycle will begin again.

“No. I’m afraid not,” you answered, trying not to choke on your drink.

“Well, I hope you find each other soon” she continued eating with a smile on her face.                                                                          

The meal continued in comfortable silence, your mind racing. Marrying Malcolm sounded like a dream, even if marriage was slightly different on your planet. Hoshi encouraged you to speak to Malcolm about your feelings, but the prospect of rejection terrified you. You preferred to live in this pathetic yearning state, maybe it was time to stop dreaming and take action.

-

Being back on the ship felt amazing but you were certainly nervous. For some reason ever since you got back Malcolm hasn’t even looked at you. His avoidance was becoming unbearable, the very second you entered a room he all but ran out. Your emotional side screamed each time but you wished to respect his wishes so you did nothing. Over time you felt worse and worse. You started working longer and longer shifts. Hoshi and Travis were starting to be worried. Dealing with heartache is unpleasant in the best conditions but dealing with it and being homesick, stuck on board an alien ship must be a thousand times worse.

Hoshi has convinced you to come to movie night. Before you could actually enjoy whatever old human movie, Trip put on you had to figure out what you had done to Malcolm and how you can reverse it. You cherished the unclear relationship that had been built between you and if you can’t be with Malcolm, at least you can be his friend. You may suffer but you would do anything to bring Malcolm happiness. Malcolm seemed sad to you. His smile not reaching his eyes, his body a little too tense.

You just got off your shift. You felt horrible, but if you stop now you will turn back to your quarters and never confront Malcolm. The dull grey walls seemed like they were closing in on you. You heard your heart beating. Malcolm was hard enough to get to know.  Letting him go is even harder.

The time you waited for his door to open felt like hours. Malcolm opened the door, hair messy from sleep. He seemed to awaken in seconds when he saw you, his eyes wide open.

“Listen, Malcolm,” your voice growing increasingly desperate, “I don’t know what I have done to offend you, humans are so confusing, but if you- “

His sarcastic chuckle caught you off guard. “You haven’t done anything. Please come in. We need to talk.”

Taking a deep breath, you walked in.

His room seemed vacant, almost militaristic. Everything was in its place. His clothes were perfectly folded and put away. What little pictures he had hanging completely straight. The room was almost shining, with no speck of dust visible. The only chair in the room was near Malcolm’s desk. You assumed he didn’t have much company over.

You stood awkwardly near the door, having no idea what you should do. You felt like an intruder in his space, your body taking up too much space. Malcolm seemed at ease. He sat down on his bed and gestured for you to sit down in the chair. He looked down, silent, thinking about his next move. God, it was a mistake to come here.

“I guess I owe you an explanation,” he stopped, taking a deep breath before continuing, “Remember when we went down to that planet? The one we helped with the plague?” you nodded slowly, “while you had to pretend to be the goddess of health, I had to be your,” he hesitated, “partner. The reincarnation of some god of protection, I believe. When we got separated some guards joined us. They didn’t think I was worthy of you, I’m afraid.” Malcolm’s voice quivered, seemingly trying to hold back the emotion currently showing. “To be honest, I agree with them.”

A tense silence fell over the room.  The engine’s hum being the only noise in the room. You moved to the bed and sat at Malcolm’s side, your shoulders touching. Malcolm looked at you, at little taken aback at your sudden move.

“I thought you were angry at me. I can’t convey how relieved I am Mal.” You said, not carrying if the happiness in your voice sounded strange, “I hope you know how amazing you are. That you’re valued and loved by your friends. I can’t convince you of that right now, I know, but I also hope that you will let me stick around and prove it.” You closed the distance between your lips, your heart beating against your chest. He kissed back softly, a bit awkwardly at first. You broke away, needing to take in air. Malcolm spoke:

“Have dinner with me?”

“of course.”

[ragewerthers]

Pond Memories

Summary: Gladio talks Ignis into being a bit rebellious and joining him for a bit of skinny dipping.  However, there may be more than a handsome Shield in the waters of this unassuming pond.

A/n: This is another fun prompt for my friend @bgn846​!  

She asked for:'Skinny dipping -- “Something just brushed up against my leg!” '

I instantly had dialogue in my head, but I'll admit that the ending was something I hadn't planned XD  

Hopefully it's not too silly an something that will get a good laugh!

You can also read on AO3 at: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25596553

Enjoy, my friends! :D

Word Count: 2303

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

Ignis couldn’t believe what they had decided to do.  This was ridiculous, juvenile, possibly a bit unsanitary and… thrilling.

“Come on, Iggy, there’s nothin’ to worry about,” Gladio had offered only about an hour earlier as Ignis tidied up his cook station from lunch.  “Prompto and Noct are out fishing and taking pictures and we still have plenty of daylight left.  We’re allowed to have a little fun as well aren’t we?”  As he spoke he moved to stand behind Ignis, his arms wrapping around the lithe Adviser, resting his chin on his shoulder.  “It’ll add a little danger to our day!”

Ignis couldn’t help snorting at the ridiculous comment, bringing a hand up to cover his mouth and hide his smile.  “Darling, our days are literally filled with danger or have you forgotten in your old ag-ah!  Stahpit!” Ignis squeaked as Gladio wriggled his fingers against his sides where they rested, interrupting his teasing with a bout of hysterical giggles.

The attack didn’t last long though and Gladio couldn’t help smiling as Ignis relaxed back in his arms.  “But it’s not the fun sort of danger!  This is… rebellious.  Don’t you ever want to be a wild man?  Live life on the edge?  Go against the norm?”

“I kiss you after you eat garula steak and beans… if that’s not living life on the edge I don’t know wha-ahahaht ihihihis!  S-stop!  I yeheheheild!” Ignis frantically apologized as those teasing fingers found his sides once more and honestly, trapped in the bearhug of his partners arms there was no way he could get free easily.

“You’re just full of piss and vinegar today, aren’t ya?” Gladio chuckled, stopping once more and pressing a few kisses against Ignis’s shoulder as the Adviser caught his breath.  “Come on, Iggy.  Let loose a little!”

And so that was how Ignis found himself standing on the edge of a small pond, slowly unbuttoning his shirt and wondering just how he’d become so easy to sway.

However, as he glanced over to the side and watched Gladio tossing his grey tank top over a low hanging branch and showing off every inch of his well muscled and tattooed torso the answer became abundantly clear.

It didn’t take long for Gladio to notice that he was being watched, however, and as he turned around Ignis felt his cheeks instantly heat up.  Quickly he looked away, taking off his glasses and putting them on top of his shirt which he had folded and set nearby.

“Enjoying the show, Iggy?” Gladio murmured, walking closer and making Ignis feel butterflies bloom in his stomach.

“Don’t be smug.  Smugness doesn’t suit you,” Ignis lied because oh how it suited the man.

Gladio’s wicked smile proved that he knew it as well and he gave a little chuckle before turning back around.  “Uh huh.  Your blush says different,” he teased and Ignis could feel his cheeks growing redder.  “But you better hurry up before the terror twins show back up and wonder where we went.” Ignis gave a little snort at the nickname he had for the two and shook his head.  “We literally left them a note saying that we were going for a swim.  They’ll know to come down here regardless,” he said, taking off his belt and shoes.

Glancing over he saw Gladio scowling at him as he stood as brazen as ever in just his moogle print boxers.  “Yeah, but they don’t know that this little dip is extra rebellious… and what would the kids think if they saw mama Ignis in all his glory?” he teased, making Ignis growl and throw one of his socks at the man who ducked with a laugh.

“First of all, do not refer to me as mama Ignis.  That is for Prompto and Prompto alone.  He is exempt,” Ignis warned before tucking his other sock into one of his shoes.  “And they wouldn’t think anything.  We’ve all had to bathe at least once out here as we’ve roughed it and honestly, if they can look at your hairy arse and not be scarred for li-IFE!”

Ignis had only just stepped out of his trousers and boxers when he felt himself hoisted into the air and unceremoniously tossed into the less then warm waters of their little pond.

Upon resurfacing with a splutter, Ignis only had a moment to try and right himself before he found his rather large and immature partner rushing toward the water.  With a manic grin, moogle print boxers fluttering in the breeze as he tossed them behind himself, Gladio lept toward the water.

“Cannonball!!!” he shouted, launching himself in Ignis direction.  The man couldn’t suppress a  shout of surprise as his darling's ridiculousness sent a massive tidal wave crashing over him.

After resurfacing for a second time, Ignis spat out whatever water had made its way into his windpipe when he’d shouted and wiped the water from his eyes.  Blinking blearily he found Gladio’s smug and smiling face a few inches from his own, a lily pad resting atop his head.

“You were sayin’?” he asked and Ignis reacted on pure, feral instinct and adrenaline.

With a growl and shout he launched himself at Gladio, trying to push the behemoth of a man under water though Gladio was absolutely unphased.

“You are a terrible human being!  How could you just toss me in!?” Ignis growled, still attempting to push Gladio under, but only managing to make the Shield wobble slightly as all he was really accomplishing was climbing him.

“I’m terrible?” Gladio chuckled, wrapping his arms around Ignis and hugging him close as the man struggled half-heartedly to get away.  “You said I had a hairy butt.  That is being terrible.”

“Then use your words to tell me that… don’t toss me into a pond!” Ignis grumbled, attempting to pout before finding his cheeks under a barrage of soft pecks and kisses.  His lips instantly started to quirk up into a smile and he brought his hands up, gently pushing at Gladio’s stubbly face.  “St-stahpit!  I’m… I’m trying to be dihihifficult!”

“Yeah well… this is me apologizing so deal with it,” Gladio chuckled, continuing to pepper kisses against Ignis cheeks until the poor Adviser could barely utter a word through his ridiculous giggles and snorts.

“So… do you forgive me?” Gladio asked as he finally stopped the barrage of kisses, giving Ignis his best puppy dog eyes as the retainer slowly calmed down from the loving attention.

“Astrals save me… yes.  I forgive you.  Now unhand me you lovable brute,” Ignis chuckled, pressing a soft kiss to Gladio’s brow and reaching up to remove the lily pad from his partners head.  After tossing it aside like a frisbee he looked back to his partner, a light smile on his lips.  “So… I’m afraid I’m not sure what a true rebellious skinny dipping experience should entail.”

Gladio chuckled at that, leaning back slightly and doing a little backstroke away from Ignis.  “The rebellious part is that we aren’t wearing swim trunks.  Apart from that it’s just… enjoying a little swim and a little naked solitude away from the other two,” he said lightly, closing his eyes and floating on his back.

Ignis felt his cheeks heating up again, but decided to follow his partner’s example and try to enjoy their ‘naked solitude’ as Gladio had so eloquently put it.

However, as he was debating whether to swim toward the low hanging branches of a nearby willow or toward some black rocks near the edge of the pond he felt something slimy touch or rather slither against his leg…

… and the normally stoic man lost it.

Ignis shouted, instantly kicking his legs and swimming quickly away from the spot, turning back to stare at it with a look of abject horror.

“Something just brushed up against my leg!” he rasped, reaching down to touch said leg to see if there were any traces left of what it might have been.  Glancing up he saw Gladio seven feet away from him, smirking and giving a little quirk of his eyebrow.

Ignis glared daggers at him.

“Don’t flatter yourself, darling…. I love you, but I wouldn’t let you near me with a ten foot pole if that were the case.”

Gladio’s shit eating grin only grew at that.  “I mean…”

“I heard it as soon as I said it!  Don’t you dare say anything else!” Ignis amended quickly, knowing that keeping up with this line of banter would only lead to Gladio becoming insufferable.  “But I’m being serious, Gladiolus!  Something… something is in here and it touched me.”

Gladio lost the smugness when he heard his full name being used, his expression softening as he made his way closer.  “Could it have been a fish?  Some reeds or stems from the lily pads?” he offered, looking down into the water, trying to pinpoint what it was that would have made his normally unflappable partner react like that.

Ignis felt his cheeks heating up as he heard that, wondering if perhaps it had been in his imagination that something slithered against him when it could’ve been as simple as a reed.

At least that’s what he had started to try and tell himself until Gladio turned his back toward him… and Ignis saw the man’s tattoo move.

Ignis stood stock still for a moment, eyes unblinking as he stared at the expanse of Gladio’s back.  He knew every plain of muscle and had traced every feather imprinted on his skin.  There was nothing there that would ever or should ever surprise him.  Blinking rapidly he ran a hand over his face and as he focused on Gladio’s shoulder he saw it again, a little wobble… and then all hell broke loose.

“LEECHES!  IT’S FUCKING LEECHES, GLADIO!” Ignis bellowed, making a mad swim for the edge of the pond as Gladio looked at an Ignis shaped streak race toward shore.

“What?!” Gladio called back, bringing his arm out of the water and finding three of the mother suckers attached to his forearm.

“AAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!”

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

“I can’t believe mama Ignis and Gladio would just leave us to fend for ourselves!” Prompto gasped dramatically, fighting a smile as he and Noct looked over the note the Adviser had left at his cook station.

“Right?  How will we ever survive?” Noct deadpanned, rolling his eyes and laughing as Prompto nudged his shoulder lightly.

“No, but honestly.  It’s cool that Gladio got Ignis to go and have a little fun,” Prompto said as he moved away, setting aside his camera on a small table near their camp chairs.

“What makes you think it was Gla-... nevermind, I heard it as soon as I sa-...,” Noct instantly stopped talking.  His eyes turned toward the treeline of their haven as blood curdling screams could be heard echoing in the distance.

Prompto was by Nocts side in an instant, his pistols already drawn as Noct called forth his sword from the armiger.  Both men braced themselves as the sounds of snapping twigs and underbrush could be heard getting louder and closer.

“W-was that…?” Prompto stammered, as Nocts hands tightened on his sword, fear taking over his heart in an icy grip.

“Get ready, Prompto… it’s almost here,” Noct grit out, knowing that whatever was hurtling toward them at breakneck speed had to be dealt with first before they could get into the words and search for their missing friends.

However, nothing could’ve prepared him for what came out into the clearing.

“I CAN FEEL THEM IN MY HAIR!” Gladio shouted, dropping to the ground as he and Ignis burst from the trees, naked as the day they were born.  The Shield instantly began rolling around like a  man possessed as Ignis ruffled his own hair like a maniac, kicking his legs and swatting at them in turn.

“YOU DESERVE IT!  YOU TERRIBLE MAN!” Ignis shouted back, picking something off of himself and throwing it at Gladio with all the accuracy his years of daggers training allowed.  Even in the midst of madness his aim was perfect.

“IT WASN’T MY FAULT!”

“YOU FOUND THE LOCATION!?”

“AND I WAS SUPPOSED TO KNOW SWIMMING VAMPIRES LIVED THERE?!”

Prompto and Noct watched the chaos unfolding before them, their weapons now held limply at their sides.

“Uh… Prom?” Noct whispered, watching as Ignis swatted at his back, picking off another little something and sending it flying toward the Shield.  The larger man still doing an impeccable job of imitating a floundering garula.

“On it!” Prompto shouted, dismissing his pistols and rushing behind Noct.  He returned only a few moments later, camera in hand and snapping as many pictures as his trigger finger could manage.

Noct dismissed his sword as well, watching as Gladio and Ignis continued to shout and rave like crazy swamp people.

“So,” Prompto asked, pausing in his pictures to look over at Noct, his voice strained in an effort to not laugh outright at the sight.  “Do you think we should go and help them?”

Noct glanced from Prompto back to his two retainers.

“HOLD STILL, GLADIOLUS!”

“I CAN’T!”

“YOU HAVE TO IF YOU DON’T WANT TO WALK AROUND THE REST OF YOUR LIFE WITH A LEECH ATTACHED TO YOUR ARSE!”

Looking back at Prompto with a quirked eyebrow, Prompto finally couldn’t stop himself from falling into a giggle fit and nodded.  “Good point,” he giggled, turning his camera lens back on the mayhem.

“We’ll at least wait for them to sort out Gladio’s butt.  Then we’ll go help,” the young Prince said, taking a seat on the edge of the haven and listening to the shutter of Prompto’s camera capturing this magical moment.  “I think once Ignis decides not to kill Gladio they’ll appreciate what we’re doing.  It’ll be some… ‘pond’ memories for them.”

[embeanwrites]

Finding Home (Gavin Reed x Reader)

Chapter One

          I couldn’t believe I was back in Detroit. I honestly never planned on coming back after everything that had happened between me and my dad. I left Michigan to go get my PhD in Sociology from (dream school). However, my dissertation was over android and human sociological relationships and the moment I was approved, Wayne State University in Detroit recruited me and offered me an amazing deal for a brand-new professor. It made sense since Detroit was at the heart of the android revolution, which would make research even easier.

         I moved into a basic apartment in June and now it’s early July. I had been avoided seeing old friends and family, telling them I had to unpack and work on my new class, SOC 345: Android and Human Relationships. Which wasn’t a complete lie, but I have been watch an unhealthy amount of cute cat videos and eating a lot of peanut butter toast alone too.

         I told my dad I would meet him today, Monday, at the station so we could get lunch with his police partner, Connor. My dad had always hated androids, I still had a hard time believing he had basically taken Connor under his wing and from what Tina tells me, he treats him like a son.

         I took a deep breath and walked into the DPD. I couldn’t help but feel anxious. I hadn’t seen my dad in over 10 years. When him and my mother divorced, he tried to stay in touch, but after my half-brother, Cole, died he pretty much disappeared from my life.

         “Hey, dad!” I said, a little too enthusiastically as I walked towards his desk. Immediately the android in the desk across from him stood up and gave me a goofy smile.

         “You must be Lieutenant Anderson’s daughter! My name’s Connor.” He reached out his hand for a handshake which I accepted with a smile.

         “Hi Connor, I’m (y/n). It’s nice to finally meet you!” I looked over to my dad, who had awkwardly shuffled towards us.

         “Hey, (y/n). How’s Detroit been treating you?” I reached over and gave him a short hug.

         “It’s been good. Doing research is a lot easier here than back in (old state). Plus, WSU gave me a pretty nice office.” I rubbed my shoulder; my dad was about to ask another question when another voice interrupted.

         “Dr. (L/n). I’ve read some of your research and wanted to introduce myself. People here call me Nines, but I am an RK900 from cyberlife. If you ever have time, I would be interested in discussing some of your theories with you.” Nines kept his hands behind his back. He looked a lot like Connor, but taller and more serious.  

         “It’s nice to meet you Nines. I always have time to talk about my theories. Not many of my peers do similar research so any chance I get to talk about it I’ll take it.” Out of the corner of my eye I saw a man in a leather jacket with a hood, blue jeans, and what looked like a permanent scowl on his face.

         “Hey Tin Can! We have a case to solve!” Nines whipped around to look at him and I moved from behind him so I could glare at this rude stranger.

         “Excuse me? Who do you think you are? You don’t get to talk to people or androids like that.” I could feel everyone’s eyes on me, but I couldn’t help myself. I hate bullies, especially people who bully androids. I marched over to the man with my arms crossed my chest. He’s about 6 inches taller than me with a scar running diagonally across his nose. He snorts and looks down at me.

         “And who are you pipsqueak?” He chuckled, for once I was glad, I looked younger than my age. Nothing beats giving your full title to assholes.

         “I’m Dr. (Y/n) (L/n), a professor at Wayne State University studying sociological relationships between humans and androids, and it seems you fall under the category of ‘asshole to everyone’.” Keeping my glare on him, he awkwardly rubbed the back of his neck and looked away. He mumbled a ‘whatever’ under his breath and walked away. I smiled to myself and turned back towards Nines, Connor, and my father.

         “I apologize for my partner, Detective Reed. He sometimes forgets not everyone shares the same opinions as him.”

         “No worries, Nines. But you shouldn’t have to deal with that, I mean-“

         “(Y/n), Reed has a lot of problems, but is mainly just an asshole.” My dad interrupted me, “but we should really get to lunch.” I nodded.

         “Well it was nice to meet you, Nines. Please feel free to stop by my office anytime. I’m pretty much there every day until classes start.” Nines gave me a short nod and walked towards where Detective Reed had gone as I followed my dad and Connor out of the precinct.

          “Lieutenant Anderson said you like sandwiches, so I found a local restaurant that is highly rated.” Connor said as we all buckled up in my dad’s car. Connor had given me the passenger seat and he sat in the back.

         “I do like sandwiches.” I turned back to look at him, as my dad started driving. “So, Connor, how do you like working for the police department?”

         “I was made to assist law enforcement, although I do prefer working for the DPD over Cyberlife.”

         “That’s fair. What about you, dad? How do you like working with Connor?” My dad snickered at my question.

         “Well, he’s the only partner I’ve been able to stand. Although I wish he would stop putting evidence in his mouth, it’s disgusting- “

         “He has a forensics kit that can analyze samples in real time.” “I have a forensics kit that can analyze samples in real time.” Me and Connor said at the same time, causing my dad to groan and me to giggle.

         “Damnit now there’s two of you.” My dad said with a short laugh.

         “(Y/n), how do you know that?” Connor asked, I noticed in the rearview mirror he tilted his head.

         “Shortly after the android revolution I interviewed one of my old contacts who use to work at Cyberlife. Plus, you’re the one saving my dad’s butt out in the field I wanted to know what you were capable of.” My dad quickly glanced over at me. I could tell he was surprised that I knew that, or maybe he was surprised I kept tabs on him.

         “That makes sense.” Connor said shortly, his LED changed to yellow for a short second and then looked back at me through the rearview mirror. “Lieutenant Anderson forbade me from looking you up and learning more about you before meeting you. I didn’t know he allowed you to do research on me.”

         “Connor, two things, I’ve told you a million times you can call me Hank, especially when we’re outside the precinct. Second, (Y/n) looking you up for her research is different than you scanning a ton of databases and learning everything about her.” My dad said as he pulled into a parking spot.

         “That’s fair, Hank.” Connor said as we all got out of the car. The restaurant wasn’t very busy, and we got a table right away. Me and Connor sat on one side of the table and my dad sat on the other side. He kept nervously looking at me and the menu.

         “So, how do you like your new apartment, (Y/n)?” My dad asked me while staring intently at the menu.

         “It’s a little small, but it’s just me so it works. It’s only a ten-minute walk from the university which is really nice. You guys should come see it sometime. I’m pretty much fully unpacked.”

         “Do you have a dog?” Connor asked quickly, I couldn’t help but laugh.

         “No, I’m more of a cat person, but I have missed Sumo.”

         “Sumo’s going to go crazy when he sees you. He refuses to let anyone take one of the blankets you left still. He’s always hiding it around the house. He’s so much bigger now.”

         “I didn’t know that that blanket belonged to (Y/n).”

         “Yeah, Sumo and (Y/n) were really close.” My dad said softly. I felt an ache in my heart. For a moment I thought of telling my dad I wished I hadn’t left, but that wasn’t fully true. Luckily the waitress saved us from sitting in awkward silence. She cheerfully took me and my dad’s order and walked away. “I’m surprised Nines walked up and introduced himself and asked to talk sometime.”

         “He seems nice.” I said softly, somehow, I felt I’ve stepped over a boundary. Maybe I should’ve met them at the restaurant instead of going into the precinct. “I’m sorry for yelling at that man, it wasn’t my place to talk like that in a police department.” I stared down at my lap until I heard my dad burst out laughing.

         “You have to be kidding! I love seeing people put Gavin in his place. He’s an asshole,” my dad said. “Pointed a gun one time at Connor even.” I gasped.

         “What? Why? Connor are you okay?” I grabbed his arm and he jumped a little in surprise.

         “Of course, it was when I was first assigned to the DPD. I did knock him out later, which was…satisfying.” Connor said, I let go of his arm and felt myself blush. “(Y/n), may I ask a personal question?”

         “Sure.”

         “Why do you care so much about androids? Even before the first reports of deviancy you were publishing papers fighting for android rights.” I had expected Connor to ask me that at some point, but I thought it would take longer than this.

         “I don’t know I’ve just always felt that we were equal. Why does it matter that our blood is different colors? Androids have helped push society so much further than expected. I just…it never felt right to me. The way people treated androids.” I couldn’t help, but shiver thinking about some of the horrific stories I’ve read. I looked over at Connor who was staring at me intently. His LED was spinning yellow. “Can I ask you a personal question, Connor?”

         “Of course.”

         “Many androids have taken off their LEDs, why have you kept yours?” His hand raised up to his LED, which was still yellow.

         “There’s no reason I should be ashamed that I am an android instead of human, so why would I hide the fact?” My dad snorted and I quickly turned my head towards him, tilting my head slightly.

         “I’m not laughing at what he said. It took a month of me trying to convince Connor to stop wearing his Cyberlife uniform.” I couldn’t help but smile, looking back at Connor. A light blue blush spread across his cheeks.

         “It was comfortable.” He said, his LED finally turning back to blue.

         “That’s fair. In middle school I wore the same sweatshirt every day.” I said, as the waitress sat down our sandwiches. I took a bite, not realizing how hungry I was. “Mhmmm, Connor you picked a great restaurant, this is delicious!” He beamed a smile. I looked back at my dad, who was looking at both of us with so much happiness. “Dad, do you think you and Connor could stop by my office sometime this week? I really hate where they’ve put my desk and couch and I could use some help moving them.”

         “That’s fine with me, Connor?”

         “I would love to help, maybe after you can come over and visit with us and Sumo?” I looked at my dad who immediately looked worried, I could tell he wanted to take fixing our relationship at my pace.

         “That sounds really nice. Does Friday work for you guys?”

         “Yeah, that should be fine. Fowler’s been telling Connor he needs to take time off anyway.”

         “Which I don’t understand. I’m an android. I can work every day and be fine. Our cases have a high success rate.” I let out a laugh.

         “Connor, he isn’t asking you to take time off to punish you, he wants you to be able to enjoy the world outside work! Have you picked up any hobbies?” I asked him.

         “I like to take care of Sumo.” He answered quickly.

         “Okay, well how about one day me and you go to a local dog shelter and walk some of the rescues?” I offered.

         “Really?” He was practically jumping up and down.

         “Yes of course! It’s great volunteer work and those dogs need some love.”

         “Hank, would you come with us?”

         “That should be you and (Y/n)’s thing. We can do something altogether some other time.” I couldn’t help but notice his hesitant tone.

         “I think that would be really nice, Dad.” He didn’t look up from his sandwich, but I could see the small smile on his face.

Chapter 2

[fandom-necromancer]

Reluctant Jealousy

This was prompted by a lovely anon! Sorry again for being late, but this was really fun to write!

Fandom: Detroit become human | Ship: Reed900, Allen60

‘Hey, Nines, I’m heading out!’ The android smiled at the man’s call and stopped drying the dishes to go to the door and give Gavin a quick hug. They had just finished dinner and instead of their usual routine of watching a movie and relax from the day, Gavin had decided to spend the evening outside with some friends. ‘Have fun!’, Nines said with a grin. ‘Call me if you need someone to pick you up.’ ‘I will. Sorry to leave you with all this mess.’ ‘Don’t worry. I will enjoy a bit of piece and quiet’, he joked, but pressed a kiss to his forehead before watching his human enter an automated taxi and waving him goodbye.

Nines shook his head, glad that Gavin finally worked on getting to know new people. The Detective had admitted himself Nines had changed his stance at pushing everyone away, although he wouldn’t suddenly be the most social person either. It was a good development and it gave the android the opportunity to get a bit of work done without being distracted by his beautiful human.

-

It was late at night and Captain Allen wasn’t able to fall asleep. Sixty was lying next to him in motionless stasis. Allen had been able to fake a smile and reassure the android that all was fine, but now his worry didn’t leave him. He shouldn’t think like this. He should trust Sixty. He shouldn’t be jealous of something that could as well have an easy explanation. He should know that Sixty’s love was real and that there was no way he would ever do what Allen thought of.  But he was only human. Logic sometimes lost to emotion.

He had watched Sixty drive off and had spent the evening reading and cleaning a bit. At that moment he had realised they were a bit short on groceries and that he could as well use the time to get some shopping done. It was in the parking lot that his heart missed a beat. Sixty was sitting at a small café, drinking coffee-flavoured thirium. Opposite to him, Detective Reed, the biggest asshole the police department could complain about, sat. They were spending time together. They had had fun, laughing and joking. It was normal. That was just a normal thing to do. Sixty could spent time with other people. Allen definitely didn’t want to be one of those partners that kept their significant other away from life if it wasn’t life with them. And… friends hugged sometimes, yes? That had been one of these friendly hugs, not one of… No. Sixty wouldn’t hide something like that from him. And Gavin… Wasn’t he with that new RK over there? RK900? What was his name? Hank had told him after a meeting that Gavin had found someone. Or rather that the new android took to him and stuck to him like fleas to a stray dog. Apparently saved him from loneliness if Hank was to be believed. That wasn’t a small thing to do. Was the infamous man that much of an asshole to throw it away? Was this RK900 fine with it?

No matter what the truth would be, Allen didn’t want to confront Sixty. He felt ashamed for thinking Sixty had betrayed him and he didn’t want the android to know he doubted him if it turned out to be just a friendly interaction. Then and there, he decided to pay the new android in the police side of the building a visit.

-

Nines looked up as someone approached his desk. It was break time and although most people were taking their breaks relatively flexible, Gavin always liked to be overly correct with his break. So if it wasn’t his partner, who would pay him a visit? Expecting Hank or Connor, he frowned as his scan turned back with a different result. ‘Captain Allen. That’s a surprise. What can I help SWAT with?’ The other looked nervous and Nines guessed they needed help with a risky mission. He knew they had Sixty over there, but well, the RK900 was the soldier unit, not the RK800. ‘Err… Yes… Hello. I don’t think we met before. You are the android that partnered up with Detective Reed?’ ‘Yes’, the android nodded. ‘RK900 unit, Detective Nines.’ ‘I’m sorry, I have to admit I’m here on a personal topic. Has Gavin mentioned Sixty lately?’ That confused Nines even more. ��No, why should he?’ ‘Listen, I don’t want to ruin anything, I just worry, okay? Sixty and me… Well, we are in a relationship not that different to yours and Gavin’s I suppose, but… I’ve seen him with Gavin and I suppose they met more than just once. I don’t want to imply Gavin or Sixty betrayed us, but… well, I just wanted to ask if you knew anything.’

Nines immediate reaction to that would have been laughter and then a very angry “get lost”, but the Captain really looked concerned and from what he heard about the man he usually had been right with his gut feelings in the past. ‘Well, I don’t know more than you do. I didn’t know he met with Sixty. He just told me he met with friends when leaving and I support that. I don’t think he would lie to me. He knows he can share anything with me and he usually does, even if that means hours of arguing afterwards.’ That had Allen’s shoulders sag in disappointment and Nines’ eyes fell on the two persons coming out of the breakroom, each with one cup of coffee in hand.

-

Gavin had been surprised to meet Sixty during his break. Usually SWAT stayed on their side of the building except for missions or when their coffee-machine broke. That had been how they initially met, the android cursing heavily trying to figure out how theirs worked. It was an old one that was quite stubborn if you didn’t know how on what side to put some pressure so it would close correctly. Gavin had planned to wait it out amused by what he had thought to be Connor struggling. But those curses were nothing like the occasionally boring “shit” from the puppy-eyed tin-can. No, the creativity of those rivalled his own. So, on his mission to hand the title of having the least friends in the precinct to officer Person, he decided to help out.

After that they got to know each other outside of work and it turned out neat. Although he was an android, Gavin concluded he wasn’t that bad. Especially as the RK800 had been predisposed to become a Connor and ended up being so much more of a Gavin is almost seemed impossible. Sixty even was better, resorting to more intelligent ways to phck people over than he could have ever imagined.

So it had been a pleasant surprise to meet the android here. ‘Coffee-machine broke again?’, Gavin chuckled, seeing Sixty expertly hitting, then pressing the right spot to let the compartment slide in perfectly smooth. ‘Oh, hi Gavin! No, Allen just wanted to speak to someone. Why he didn’t email is beyond me, but hey, got to see the boring side of the building again.’ ‘Heh, as if your side was that different.’ ‘Well, we don’t have you or Connor, so…’ Gavin laughed, elbowing the machine lightly, as there would be no give at all. He had made that mistake once and ended up with a pretty bruise. Never again. The coffee was finished and Sixty began pouring a cup. ‘You want one too?’ ‘The day I don’t want coffee, I’m dead’, Gavin chuckled, but nodded a thanks. ‘Should get back to Nines, he doesn’t take kindly to being left with the boring stuff.’ ‘Yeah, I bet he does. “Hey, Sixty, you are so much faster with that, why don’t you do it?”’ He laughed, shutting down the perfect voice imitation of his partner. ‘Maybe because I want a challenge for once? By the way, where’s he? Can’t take that long to speak with someone.’

They left the breakroom and froze, as they saw both their partners talking to each other, looking… Well, not happy at all. They looked at each other, before continuing walking towards the desks. Meanwhile Allen had turned and under Nines watching eyes, Gavin suddenly felt even smaller.

‘Err… What’s that all about? SWAT need something?’, the human tried to play it down as both of them stayed quite. ‘Gav, I-‘ ‘Sixty,-‘ The two looked at each other, then Nines continued. ‘To be plain, we just wanted to ask what is going on between you two. Because whatever it is, we would like to know.’ ‘What the-‘, Gavin begun, but Sixty didn’t let him speak, his voice sounding surprised an more than just a bit angry: ‘Are you two idiots really thinking we are dating?’

There were a few minutes of silence then, until Allen spoke up hesitantly. ‘Well, I saw you meeting Gavin in a café while shopping and you kind of hugged and-‘ ‘People can hug for fucks sake! Doesn’t mean I end up in bed with… urgh…’ ‘I know! I know, it was just that-‘ ‘Joseph. I love you more than anything on this world. That will never change. Gavin is just a very competent Detective and it’s fun to be around him. We are just friends. I would never betray you. And I am most definitely not dating Gavin.’ He quickly turned to the Detective apologetically. ‘Sorry, man, just… no.’ Gavin lifted his hands in defence. ‘Hey, dude, same. I don’t want anyone but Nines. Just, hey, babe, please understand, my ego can only take so much praise until I have to ground myself around assholes like me. I will always be yours, because I am safe with you and you care. We are just friends, nothing more.’

‘And I am happy for you’, Nines was quick to reassure. ‘It was just that the Captain was worried and normally has a really good take on situations and…’ ‘This has been a huge misunderstanding then’, Allen sighed. ‘Sixty, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have doubted you.’ ‘Joseph, it’s fine’, Sixty said calmly. ‘I mean I guess I could have told you, just didn’t thought is was that important.’ Although the situation had been resolved and all parties were reasonably relieved now the atmosphere of awkwardness hung over them and Gavin really didn’t want that feeling to linger. So, he took initiative and suggested: ‘Hey, maybe we could just forget this happened and next time, we meet all four? Could be fun?’ Allen was the first to agree, happy to take the attempt of getting back to normal. ‘That’s a great idea. I mean, Nines, we never met before, so this may be a better way to get to know each other instead of overthinking our partners’ life decisions.’ That made the android smile. ‘As long as Sixty isn’t as nerve-wrecking as Connor, I’m in.’ ‘Did you just insult me?’

[monchikyun]

14. price of perfection

He’s always been told how beautiful and nice he is, how much of a delight to have him as a colleague. People look at him with admiration that they often hide behind scorn, becoming the exemplary picture of envy. Even those who allegedly like him can’t be trusted with their natural propensity to shun everything that isn’t at least somewhat natural.

Connor has always been the perfect anomaly in society composed primarily of human beings. The only solace is that he’s is but one of many such seemingly flawless creation, but even his fellow androids regard him as something more than them, as he is the latest, most advanced model in existence. No one cares how incorrect all their assumptions are, how ugly and torn up he feels inside. He hasn’t chosen any of this, it has all been handed to him, together with the burden of being alive. Sometimes he wonders whether he ever wanted any of this. Not even the person closest to him can convince him that becoming a deviant hasn’t been a misguided idea. Hank is happy for him if only because he falsely thinks Connor has found his own way in life, his new purpose. 

He thought that trying to save others would bring some kind of sense of self-fulfilment to him, but the gratitude he never gets just hollows him out every single time. Not that he needs it, he just craves something that would make him forget that in the end, he’s just a machine, no matter how sentient. He has the urge to scream just how unspecial he is, how he doesn’t want to be treated like someone who deserves all the praise or all the resentment. Not a lost child, not a despicable criminal, not a model of perfection. Just a guy who works very hard at covering up his shortcomings.

He’s been living in a state of emotional despair for months, his only distraction being the verbal fights with his favourite enemy - the resident bastard Gavin Reed. At times he can see something behind those sharp grey eyes, maybe an understanding of sorts. Gavin is the only one who is privy to his display of imperfection. In the beginning, it was the exchanged insults that pushed him onward, then those turned into ceaseless bickering, and now it has evolved into a banter charged with palpable tension. He often catches himself wishing to unravel in front of the detective, to give him the pieces of himself he keeps buried deep under all the rot.

Because if he has to hear another compliment addressed to him, he swears he’s going to implode. It’s bothersome enough that he’s aware of all the gossip about the handsome and kind android who is too good to make any meaningful connection with.

He restlessly shuffles in his seat and releases a sigh.

It’s late, he doesn’t have to be in the office anymore, but it feels lonely to go home like this, with no ongoing cases to occupy his mind with. He has had his own flat for most of his life now, but he’s never thought to call it home. It lacks the right essence, a soul. He’d rather observe the grumpy man complaining over a mountain of paperwork he’s been forced to complete by tonight.

After a while, Connor makes him a wonderfully lousy cup of coffee, which Gavin berates him for while emptying the cup like it is the most delicious brew in the world.

“What do you want, tin can.”

He’d like to stay like this for the longest time, bare of his usual shell.

“Supervision.” Gavin laughs at the serious look he gives the overworked man and shakes his head slightly in mild exasperation.

“A stupid way to sabotage my progress. Thought you could do better.”

Connor is hypnotised by the focus the detective is able to put into his work, the way his eyes follow the flowing text on the screen and the cute habit of curving his lips when he…

“Are you going to stare at me the whole night?” The man looks up at him with face the colour of cherry and Connor has to stop himself from performing a complete scan of him.

“This or… you’ll let me help with those documents so we can leave.” He isn’t sure what he’s doing, just that it fills him with something exciting, making his brain a little bit soft.

“Be my guest.”

Connor ignores the slight strain in the detective’s voice and connects his skinless hand with the terminal. It takes him about five seconds to finish the hours worth of mundane work.

“Phcking androids.” Like Gavin hasn’t been mesmerised by the glowing nakedness of his.

“You’re welcome.” This is nice, but not nearly enough. 

“So, where do you wanna go?” 

Oh, he doesn’t actually have anything concrete on his mind. Just somewhere no one would invade their space.

“I’d like to finally meet Miss Chunky.”  

-

Their short journey to Gavin’s place has been painfully quiet, so much so that he is forced to notice the detective’s elevated heartbeat and his ever-rising stress levels. Not that Connor’s were anywhere low.

The flat itself is an absolute mess, just like he has expected. But cosy in a way, properly lived in. He really likes it here.

Gavin runs into one of the rooms, yells some profanities and then emerges with an enormous fluffball in his arms.

“Here she is.” The feline is being handed to him without question and he’s glad that he can’t feel pain, for she doesn’t agree with the idea of being held by a stranger, apparently.

“She’s…. lovely.” He attempts to pet her furry head, but not even Connor can accomplish such an impossible feat.

“Yeah, an absolute joy to have around.” With that, he gently drops the mass of hair to the ground and joins Gavin who has made himself comfortable on the sofa which also serves as a claw sharpener, or so it seems.

They share a brief moment of silence before it gets interrupted by the dreaded reality check.

“What is this. Us. I mean. Why did you come here with me.” He hates the nervousness oozing from the trembling man. If only there was a way of making it disappear.

 But he has to ask first.

“Do you… do you think I’m perfect?”

 The unabashed laughter makes him forget all the anxiety this question came with.

“You self-satisfied prick.” There is no malice in the slur. On the contrary, he can sense fondness coming from Gavin, which is surprisingly not as scary as he anticipated it might be. “You’re the most imperfect person I’ve ever met. Annoying as hell, always acting like you’re above everything, and I hate it when you pretend that nothing affects you. Even you’re face is marred with all the phcking freckles.” He flicks Connor’s nose, which ignites something dangerous inside of him. “…and your coffee sucks.” Gavin takes a deep breath and through the exhale adds: “You’re just terrible at being a flawless machine.”

“Maybe that’s the reason I’m here, then.”

He feels like smiling, and so he shamelessly does so.

“I wouldn’t invite you to my home if you were anything other than what you are.” Gavin tentatively touches his hand, tracing invisible patterns with his finger. Not even his lousy self-control could prevent him from retracting his skin and making the human lose his mind by trying to interface with him. It’s a futile attempt, he’s fully aware of that, but the warmth he gets from Gavin is worth all of the pointless effort. 

Perhaps being alive isn’t the worst thing imaginable, at least not now.  

“Close your eyes, tin can.”

And Connor can’t wait to show the detective just how terrible he’s at kissing, too.

@convinseptember take this word-spewage  xD

[mostfacinorous]

GO Whumptober Day 28: Such Wow. Many Normal. Very Oops.  [1][2][3][4][5][6][7][8][9][10][11][12][13][14][15][16][17][18][19][20][21][22][23][24][25][26][27]

The cause of the freezing, humans determined, was either merely ‘nature’ or ‘the growing climate crisis’, depending on whether the person speaking believed in that sort of thing. Either way, everyone could agree that it was unusual to unheard of, and no one much appreciated it. 

It had eased off a bit, though-- still frozen, so the snow and ice was sticking around, but the wind had died off and the snow was no longer coming down in buckets, for which they were all very grateful. 

The Bentley remained where she’d been parked since that first attempted afternoon out, and the plowed mountain behind her only grew ever higher and ever thicker. 

Much like their American cousins from years prior, local heads of council had to remind their followers not to jump out of upper floor windows and into the snow, for fear of cars lurking underneath, and injuries that could and would result from such foolishness. 

It didn’t fully stop it from happening, but it might have deterred an idiot or two.

 Fortunately, neither Crowley nor Aziraphale was particularly interested in jumping out of windows. 

There were, however, interested in having a bit of a walk, as it had warmed up enough to allow for it again, and they were feeling a little cooped up. 

And so they packed their cocoa and coffee into a couple of thermoses-- carefully color coordinated in black and lightest blue tartan, so as to never be confused with The Thermos, of which they did not speak-- and headed to the park for a bit of time in the watery grey sun of London in winter. 

The streets were clear enough to walk on safely and carefully, but the path round the lake was only worn down by others’ feet, and the snow had been trampled enough to have turned to mud, then frozen back to ice in places, making their usual habit of walking and talking more dangerous. 

They had decided, after God’s admonition about getting closer, to try and keep their time apart to a minimum. This suited them both quite well, considering the trials and tribulations they’d faced of late, and it was delightful to finally have an excuse to be around one another that neither side could really argue with. After all, not being near Aziraphale when God arrived had put Crowley out of commission for days, and if he had been close, She may not have come at all. Thwarting at its finest, on both sides of the line. 

And so, if they held hands to help steady one another, there wasn’t anything Heaven nor Hell could do about it, short of shaking their heads with disgust. 

“I miss the ducks.” Crowley said suddenly, interrupting the silence that had descended as their last conversational topic had waned. 

“Do you?” Aziraphale asked, surprised. “You always treat them quite poorly; I thought you disliked them.”

“I do not!” Crowley protested. “I play with them. Same as how they play with one another, innit?” 

Aziraphale held his thoughts on the matter. He did glance out across the lake, though. 

“I wonder how firmly frozen it is. Do you suppose they will be able to ice skate on it, after a storm like that?” 

Crowley tilted his head and looked out over the ice. 

“At least a couple of ‘em are gonna give it a go. Look.” He nodded off near the high reeds, where the ducks liked to put their eggs come spring, and where a few children appeared to be slipping off their shoes, with plans of skating over the ice in their stockings.

“Heavens.” Aziraphale said. “Perhaps we ought to do something to stop them.” He began heading in that direction, a little too far off to be heard if he yelled. 

“Bit too late for that, Angel!” He heard as Crowley raced past him, realizing as he did that he’d pressed his mobile into Aziraphale’s hands. He looked up to see a child take off from the edge straight towards the middle of the pond-- and promptly fall through the ice and into the waters below. 

“Bugger.” Aziraphale muttered under his breath.

Crowley was fast, faster than the other children, even, and he shouted for them to stay as he slid on his stomach towards the hole in the ice. 

Aziraphael fumbled with the phone for a spare moment, then got a call in to emergency services. “Hello, yes, I am in St. james’ park, just north of the playground on the birdcage side of the lake-- a child has fallen through the ice and my partner has gone in after them. No, no, I can’t see-- they’ve surfaced. Please send help, I’m going to give you to a child now.” 

Aziraphale handed the phone off to the young girl who was standing by, mouth agape. 

“Help them find us, please.” He told her, a touch of miracle in his voice to give her the courage she needed to do the job, and then he turned to the lake. 

“Crowley?” He called to the man who was clutching at the ice with inhumanly sharp talons that had sprouted from his fingers while he held a boy between his chest and the rim of the hole. “What can I do to help?” Aziraphale asked. 

Crowley had lost his glasses, and his eyes were wide. 

“Don’t come out on the ice- it’s not gonna hold.” Even as he spoke, his fingers on one hand went crashing through the surface, sending them both bobbing as the boy cried out. 

“Tail!” Aziraphale shouted, hoping Crowley had enough presence of mind to handle the change. He had always been a better swimmer while serpentine, and perhaps, that done--

He saw the moment that Crowley gained the advantage and they became a little steadier in the water. 

“Now then-- if you have to, put him on your back, and break the ice away between you and the shore until you can climb out safely!” 

Aziraphale felt next to useless, but he supposed at least one of them had a mind that was not freezing or panicking, and thus was able to assist that way. 

“You hear that?” He heard Crowley mumbling comfortingly to the boy. “I’m going to give you a piggy ride now. You hold on tightly, understand? And I’ll soon have us out of here.” 

Aziraphale watched, fretting terribly as Crowley helped the boy to climb around on the other side of him, and then began the process of smashing through the ice with his claws. 

Aziraphale turned around and saw the fire brigade approaching, an ambulance in tow, and turned back to warn Crowley to hide his transformations. 

“The Rescuers are here-- it won’t be long now!” He tried to make it sound hopeful and not as though he was playing supernatural lookout. It seemed to work, though, as the first of them reached him and clapped a hand on his back. 

“You’re the caller?” She asked, and Aziraphale nodded, pointing as he accepted Crowley’s phone back from her. 

“They’re nearly to the edge,” He added helpfully, though there was a dark and obvious trail of broken ice that marked how far they’d come. 

“We’ve got them.” She promised, and waved for backup. 

A small army of men and women ran down to the river’s edge to lift the boy off of Crowley’s back as he final grabbed hold of solid land, and Aziraphale managed to shoulder his way through them to reach down and grasp Crowley’s hands. 

“There you are, you brave, stupid fool.” He said, pulling him up and onto land and into his arms. 

Crowley was shaking with cold, and he had already partially soaked through Aziraphale’s clothing when the team brought them emergency blankets. 

“Come on now, let’s get you out of your clothes and warming up.” One of the men instructed. 

Aziraphale turned to be sure the boy was receiving the same sort of care; he was already in someone’s thermals. 

“Alright.” Crowley agreed, surprising Aziraphale. He was looking straight at the angel, though, not at the humans who were trying to shuffle him off to the trucks for treatment. “Stay with me?” He asked, almost a plea, and Aziraphale knew it was only partially to help him fend off discovery. The other part was God and the unspoken threat of having saved a human life-- and what Hell might do to him for it. 

“Of course. Let me help him-- he’s ah, special needs.” 

“Alright.” The officials were quick to agree, with the tiniest nudge from Aziraphale. “The parents are on their way, I’m sure they’ll want to talk to you and we’ll need to take down statements for our reports after.” 

“Of course.” Aziraphale said again. “If you can just fetch us some dry clothing for him--” 

He sent them scurrying, and turned back to Crowley. 

“Shall we get out of here before they come back, my dear? Make a run for it?” 

Crowley, still shivering as if his bones intended to shake out of his skin, grinned back at Aziraphale. 

“Best idea you’ve had all day, Angel.”

They booked it, making it out of sight before Aziraphale dried Crowley with a miracle and warmed him with another. 

The walk home was almost anticlimactic, after all that. 

“Ohh… I dropped the thermoses!” Aziraphale lamented, and Crowley huffed. 

“Shall we stop by that little teashop up near Piccadilly?” He offered. 

“Oh, let’s. I suppose you could do with something warm to drink anyway.” 

“I wouldn’t object. And then home, to a fire and several blankets.” Crowley insisted. He paused, then added, “Thank you, by the way. I saw the boy and didn’t think-- I ought to keep you around, have you keep doing that for me, when needed.” 

Aziraphale bumped their shoulders together. 

“You’ll be hard pressed to get rid of me, you’ll find, if you keep pulling stunts like that.” 

Their usual routine resumed, they made their way towards the tea shop, and home, and left the humans to wonder why they had run, why the boy was swearing the man who’d saved him was a mermaid, and how the hell someone had happened to miraculously be in the right place at the right time to stop childish stupidity from turning tragic. 

It was, all in all, a rather successful outing.