#which makes me vaguely suspicious that i did some stupid stuff for those 3 hours. but even if i hadn't it still wouldn't work.

[racke7]

I've now spent another 3 hours failing to get the Creation Kit to actually fucking compile my edit to another mod's script.

I have no idea if my edit would be "enough" to achieve what I wanted it to do, because the basic tools are refusing to let me check.

Never change Bethesda. Never fucking change.

(This is what I wanted to do)

[thewritewolf]

The Search for Halloween Chapter 6: Lost + Ghost

The gang decides to check out an old abandoned house at night.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 (Final)

@unusual-october

Enjoy!

Read on Ao3.  My ko-fi.

Art of this chapter by the always-wonderful @noanieactuallydrawingalot

“Hey, guys!” Adrien rushed up to where his friends were huddled together. With the darkness, he hadn’t been sure at first that it was them, but spotting Marinette’s pink winter jacket set his mind at ease. “Are we ready for some spooky times?”

“I gotta say, sunshine, I’m impressed,” Alya said as the four of them started walking.

“Well, it’s not that hard to be brave this time.” Adrien stood a little closer to Marinette when he noticed her slight shivering. “It’s just a big, empty house after all. I’ve got plenty of experience with those.”

“I guess, dude. But this isn’t just any old abandoned building.”

Adrien narrowed his eyes suspiciously at Nino. “That’s not what you said this morning. And I should know, since you called me to scream about how you’d found ‘this cool place to go exploring in’.”

“What Nino means to say is that we’ve done a bunch of research on it since then,” Alya cut in. “We’ve found some scary stuff that we’re sure is gonna freak you guys out.”

“Just for the record: I know that you’re lying,” Marinette said. “But I’m curious about your ghost stories.”

Alya pouted. “Well that takes half the fun out of it.” She shrugged. “Oh well. Let’s start with the story of the screaming girl in the walls…”

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

Entering the house hadn’t been as difficult as Marinette would have hoped. Maybe it was because no one was really expecting someone to want to go exploring in a crumbling wreck, but regardless, it didn’t provide much of a deterrent to the teens sneaking inside. Marinette almost wished that it had been better locked down - maybe then they could’ve gone home early. While that would’ve meant she had snuck out for no reason, it also meant she wouldn’t have to explore a possibly haunted house close to midnight after listening to a bunch of ghost stories.

Somewhere deep in her bones, Marinette suspected that Alya and Nino were going to do their best to scare her and Adrien. They took way too much pleasure in that. Maybe that was the spirit of Halloween possessing them? Those fears seemed well founded at Alya’s next suggestion.

“Okay, gang. I think we should split up.”

Marinette shot her best friend a withering glare that she resolutely ignored.

“Oh, don’t give me that look, M. Look at this place!” Alya spread her hands to encompass the grand staircase leading upstairs and the corridors spreading out in three directions on this floor alone. “It’ll take us ages if we do this as one group and you know it.”

Marinette pinched the bridge of her nose. “So the groups will be-”

“You and sunshine down here, me and cappy upstairs, yes.”

That suspicion returned, although now she was wondering if Alya and Nino weren’t just going to sneak off and make out somewhere. At this point, they felt like equally likely possibilities.

Before Marinette could present her misgivings, Adrien said, “That sounds fine. You two have fun… ‘exploring’.” He waggled his eyebrows, prompting Alya to roll her eyes and Nino to grin.

Once the other two disappeared upstairs, Adrien bowed to Marinette and gestured towards the right hallway.

“Shall we?”

Marinette giggled and flipped her flashlight on. “We shall.”

Her courage nearly evaporated when she thought she heard tiny voices, like those of children, coming from somewhere nearby. It sounded like they were whispering to each other.

“Something wrong?”

She looked toward Adrien and his concerned eyes. Try as she might, she didn’t hear anything now. She shook her head. “...It was nothing, I think. Come on!”

After trudging through the darkness and over creaky floorboards, they came to a stuck door. Between the two of them, they managed to pry it open. A big, decaying table sat in the middle of what appeared to be a kitchen. Marinette picked up the sturdy looking candlestick that sat at the edge of the table.

While she hefted it in her hands, Adrien paused in his exploration of the cupboards to glance over to her. “Grabbing a souvenir? I didn’t realize you were the sticky fingers type, bugaboo.”

An embarrassed blush spread across her cheeks. “Um… about that... remind me to tell you about your phone later, okay?”

He raised an eyebrow, but didn’t comment.

There was movement to her side and the quiet was broken when the table suddenly collapsed. Her own terrified squeak added to the noise as she dodged out of the way. Not that she needed to - none of the rotted wood got close to her.

Adrien was at her side in a moment, carefully looking at her feet and legs for any signs of injury. He breathed a sigh of relief.

“...Let’s keep moving, okay? I don’t really want to be in this room anymore.” He glared at the ruined table, as if daring it to try and attack her again.

She nodded mutely and they continued their search.

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

Alya let her light rake across the walls of the room, giving only a cursory glance at her surroundings. So far, exploring the house hadn’t been quite the adventure she had been hoping for. It made weird noises and smelled weird too. If they’d come during the day like the scaredy cats had wanted, she would’ve been bored to tears. As it stands, she was intrigued and her heartbeat was a little faster than usual.

Then again, she thought as she squeezed Nino’s hand, maybe that last part wasn’t because of the house at all.

“You really think we’ll find anything worth talking about here?” Nino tugged at his hat as he searched the corners of the room. “Dunno if we’ll even be able to put this in the presentation.”

She shrugged. “We might be able to if we keep it vague. But, honestly, this is more about freaking out Mari and blondie than anything else.”

“You’ve really got it out for them.” Nino chuckled. “You got a mean streak under all that sugar.”

“And don’t forget it, babe.” She gave him a quick kiss on the cheek. “But no, I just don’t get the excuse to mess with her a lot. At least, not like this. She’s pretty good at avoiding horror most of the time.”

���Oh man, you should have seen their faces during that sleepover when-”

They were both startled at the sound of a door slamming shut. Specifically, the one that led into the room they were in. After a moment of hesitation, Alya rushed forward to pull at the handle. Despite her fears, the door opened as easy as it had when they came in. Some of the tension left her. Not a lot, but a little.

“That was, uh…” Nino swallowed. “...Spooky.”

“Yeah…” Alya narrowed her eyes at the door. “Must have been-”

“Babe, I swear if you say it was just the wind I’m divorcing you right now.”

Despite how her heart was pounding, she smirked. “A shame we aren’t married. But seriously, these houses have weird air flow. One strong gust from outside and,” she clapped her hands together. “Door slams.”

“If you say so… Back to it, then?”

“Well, duh. It’s getting interesting now.”

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

Nino definitely wasn’t having a good time now. Something about the place put him on edge. Like there was someone (or something) watching from the shadows. An omnipresent scratching sound that Alya had claimed was probably just some trees outside. The only light in the building was the one from the flashlights, which meant he was blind in almost all directions.

Atmospheric horror at its best. Exactly like he enjoyed out of a movie.

But also way too real for him to really appreciate.

“We’ve been in here like, what? Half an hour?” Nino whispered to Alya, one hand latched onto her sweater sleeve. “We can probably call it quits now, right?”

“Come on, babe! Things are just getting interesting now!”

To his dismas, he realized she was leading him towards the scratching sound. He mentioned this out loud.

“Well, it’s our only lead right now. It could just be a tree or an animal or whatever.”

“Yeah, well, if it isn’t? What then?”

“Then we have some real ghost action up in here!” Alya put her ear close to the door they’d reached. “Now, shush. Whatever is making that sound is on the other side.” She put a hand on the door knob and grinned.

When she pushed open the door, her grin immediately vanished, replaced with a mask of horror. It wasn’t an animal or a tree. But they found what the scratching was about.

Carved into the wall in big, scrawled letters were the words, “STUPID GHOST.”

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

Adrien and Marinette had doubled back to the staircase and went down the big, central hall. A lot of little things had started piling up on their minds - faint cackling, weird smells, small things crumbling like the table - and suddenly they didn’t want to stray very far from the entry any more. The only thing still keeping them there was bullheaded stubbornness and not wanting to leave their friends behind.

That brought them to what Adrien assumed was the living room. At least, that’s the sense that he got from the mouldering couches and the dead fireplace. Any other hints about what had been here had long since been eaten up by time.

They both heard a scraping noise, like metal on stone, and froze. It was really getting to them, but Adrien was having just about enough. So he did the one thing he knew would take both of their minds off of it. He put his hands on Marinette’s shoulders.

“Mari?”

“Hm?”

“We should go on a date after this.”

She stopped and looked wide eyed at him. “I- What?”

“You and me, flowers, chocolate, you’ll wear a pretty dress you made. It’ll be great.”

“That…” She swallowed and gave a weak smile. “That sounds amazing. I’d love to.” Marinette hugged herself and shivered. She jumped when Adrien wrapped an arm around her, but shot a grateful look up at him. “Th-thanks, Adrien. I hate the cold.”

At that moment, the fireplace flared to life, startling both of them. Carved into the stone in the back, where they couldn’t see before, was a single sentence:

YOU DIDN’T SAY GOODBYE.

With that, the two of them bolted from the room into the hallway. The house was suddenly alive with sound as Alya and Nino rushed down the stairs at the same time. Everyone began talking excitedly all at once. Adrien risked a glance behind him, towards the abandoned living room. His eyes widened and he pointed a trembling finger at the shadowy figure behind them.

“G-ghost! Demon! Thing!”

Which was more or less accurate - he couldn’t get a good sense of the shape of the creature, but there were tendrils of inky blackness that caused things to rot and crumble when it brushed against them. There was a wall of sound that he belatedly realized was the four of them screaming at once before they were suddenly a flurry of limbs rushing towards the exit. There was a sound of metal hitting wood as Marinette dropped the candlestick in her haste.

The main doors slammed shut behind them.

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

They didn’t stop running until they’d put a couple blocks between them and the house.

Alya managed to speak between gasps of breath, “So that was… something. Very spooky.” The combined glares of the other three proved deafening. “Okay, fine, fine. I’ll take full blame if we get permanently haunted ‘cuz of this. Let’s just go home, alright?”

“You mind if I come over to your place, babe? I, uh… Don’t want to be by myself right now.”

“I’m very glad you asked first. Yes. Let’s watch a rom com or four.”

“Throw in a spy flick and we’ll call it good.”

Trailing a little behind the other two, Adrien weaved his fingers between Marinette’s and whispered, “So does Saturday sound alright to you?”

She blinked up at him. “Huh?”

“For the best date of our lives?”

No response except more blinking.

“Mari, say something. I already promised flowers and chocolates and I can't break that promise now-mmmmph!"

He was suddenly cut off by her pulling him down to her level and pressing her lips to his.

She sighed against him and whispered back, “Saturday sounds wonderful, kitty.”

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

An hour earlier...

“Come on, Sugarcube! It’ll be fun.”

Plagg floated around Tikki in an abandoned closet under the staircase. He’d dragged her off while their chosen had been focused on entering the house.

“I don’t know, Plagg… It seems awfully mean.”

“But, sugarcube, when was the last time we got to celebrate Samhain? It’s been centuries! Opportunities like this don’t come around that often.”

Despite herself Tikki smirked. “Well… I don’t see any jack o'lanterns around. If they didn’t want to be haunted, they should have taken the proper steps against malevolent spirits.”

“That’s the spirit! Why don’t you go after the spectacles gang. Take some revenge on behalf of your little bug.”

Tikki’s eyes narrowed. She hadn’t been very appreciative on how they’d been pushing Marinette into these situations.

“I think I’d like that a lot.” She started to phase through the floors before quickly returning. “Oh! I almost forgot - Happy Samhain, stinky sock.”

Plagg grinned back at her. “And a happy Samhain to you too, Tik.”

[hotncoldimagines]

Hold my fucking hand

A BakuDeku story in which you are Bakugou’s best friend, and try to help him out with his little (huge) crush.

Bakugou’s face as he saw you standing outside, leaning onto a light post at the entrance of UA, was almost worth your trip there. Almost. Almost worth the two hour bus ride, and the long walk through the cold, snowy Friday afternoon. You saw him roll his eyes to the back of his head and grunt, one of his classic friendly greetings, as he walked towards you anyways.

“(name)? What the fuck are you doing here?”

“Nice to see you too”

It had been a long while since you saw each other. You used to be neighbors as kids, but then you moved out and visits weren’t really often. Your mother tried to console you saying technology was a miracle, that you will still be able to chat through your phones. But there was little technology could do if Bakugou didn’t ever answer your texts.

“So…what’s bothering you?” You started the talking, of course, as you both made your way to his home. He still lived at the same house he did back when you were children, and you were certain the walk wasn’t long enough to have this conversation. Which, you knew, it wouldn’t be easy.

“Why would something be bothering me?”

“You’ve been avoiding me” You said “You always avoid me when you are conflicted”

His answer was a mere click of his tongue, which you really didn’t mind. Since, with Bakugou, that was the closest to acceptance one could ever get. The streets were covered in ice, but it wasn’t snowing anymore. It wasn’t a coincidence you felt more confident than ever; let’s just say winter made your quirk more comfortable. You smiled, looking around at the streams of dark, grey smoke coming from the chimney of the neighborhood’s every house, feeling the power at the tip of your fingers.

Sitting down on a bench, you patted the empty space next to you. With overly- displayed annoyance, Bakugou complied, crossing his arms and looking forwards at the park, which just happened to be where you used to play together as kids.

You couldn’t help but smile, remembering all the children making a circle together, joining hands; and a certain blond, bad-tempered kid being left out. No one wanted to hold his hand, of course. Who would risk getting his fingers damp in nitroglycerine? In the end, you ditched the game as well to play with him, so that he wasn’t alone. That reckless, foul-mouthed boy, whose hand nobody wished to hold.

You sighed, opening your bag and lighting up a cigarette, earning quite a disapproving look from your friend.

“You’re still into that crap?” He growled, wrinkling his nose.

You chuckled, blowing a mouthful of smoke at his face. He closed his eyes to block it but it never got to him, and as he opened his eyes, he saw the words FUCK OFF written on the air in dark nicotine clouds.

For once, Bakugou couldn’t help but chuckle.

From then on, the conversation went pretty lightly. Even though he still didn’t seem to be willing to talk about whatever was bugging him, you still had a lot of other stuff to catch up on. The afternoon was long, the park was full of memories, and you both enjoyed each other’s familiar, bittersweet company, as he watched you use your quirk to draw patterns with the exhales of your smoke.

“Kacchan?”

A timid voice interrupted your chatter, and you looked up to see a short, freckled guy staring at you suspiciously. You arched a brow, and he immediately looked away, focusing on Bakugou instead. Somehow, he seemed vaguely familiar.

“What the fuck do you want, Deku?”

Deku? Was that the Deku? Bakugou’s other childhood friend? That guy that had gotten his quirk out of “no fucking where” and that had beat him in many of his classes? That Deku?

“I was just passing by, I saw you here and I thought I should say hi” He stammered “Sorry, I didn't realize you were talking to…”

“(name)” You introduced yourself “It's ok, nice to meet you. I heard lots about you"

“You did?”

“Ye-ouch!” You felt someone pinch the side of your body, and you turned to look at Bakugou with a scowl “Hey! What the-"

“Fuck off, Deku. You interrupted us"

Deku shrugged it off, as if he were used to being told to fuck off on a daily basis, and waved with a polite grin. However, as he looked at you, the smile didn't seem quite genuine.

“Ok...see you on Monday, Kacchan”

And, as suddenly as he got there, he left.

It didn't even take you five seconds into his absence to realize what was going on.

“Oh my, are you blushing?” You teased, taking another inhale of your cigarette.

“What?? Fuck no! It's the cold! You are red too!” Bakugou snapped, only corroborating your suspicions.

“You like him, don't you?”

Oh, just how funny it was to get in his nerves. You knew him way too well.

“What the fuck is fucking wrong with you, you fuck??” cold + a crush + anger management issues gave him the reddest face you had ever seen another human deal with “You are fucking nuts!”

“Remember that time when we were five? When that Joe kid had that toy All Might you wanted and since you couldn't have it you blew it to pieces?

“What does that even have to fucking do with this??”

You chuckled, always willing to laugh at his anger.

“It's the same with Deku! You are always mean to what you love, cause you hate the effect it has on you"

“What is that supposed to mean??”

You smirked, blowing a big cloud of smoke that turned into a heart before it dispelled on his face.

He seemed to get the memo.

“Oh hell no!”

“Hell yes" You elbowed his side “Admit it, you have a crush”

Never, in all of your years of friendship, had you seen him look so genuinely conflicted. So genuinely vulnerable. For a fragment of second there was something but a frown on his expression, and all because of that green-haired boy.

“Fuck”

Bakugou cursed under his breath, repeating in his mind all the tips you had given him. Although you had insisted he shouldn’t learn all the steps by heart, he had done anyways. He didn’t trust himself for these stuff.

STEP 1: TAKE SOME INITIATIVE. He needs to feel like you care, make him feel wanted! Ask him to see you outside from school.

And that’s exactly what he’d done. Sort of. As soon as classes were over on Monday, he had detached Deku from his group of friends with a single pull and forced him to walk with him.

“Where are we going?” His victim had asked, oblivious.

“To get some fucking ice cream”

STEP 2: LISTEN TO HIM. Your emotionally unstable butt keeps making fun of him all the time. Show him you care about his interests!

That was harder to achieve. He wasn’t that good of a listener, nor a good actor, and he didn’t trust himself to seem interested enough in whatever Deku had to say. Casual conversations weren’t his strongest point.

“Oh, remember that friendly tournament we had with other schools last week?” Thankfully, he didn’t have to think of a starter. As they both approached the nearest ice cream parlour, it was Deku who broke the silence “I met this guy with the coolest quirk! He could control steam! It sounds lame at first but he used it in such interesting ways! Do you know what he did? He used people’s own breath against them!”

“What the fuck? Is that possible!?”

“Yeah! He explained me how he did it!” He said, opening his backpack and searching for something enthusiastically “Look! I wrote it down on my hero notebook”

Bakugou skimmed through it, as best as he could as he walked down a busy street. Something about it seemed vaguely familiar.

“It kind of reminds me of (name)”

“That girl from last Friday?”

“Yeah, she controls smoke. It doesn’t work with steam because it needs to come from combustion. It works with cigs though” He shrugged “We used to team up when we were kids. Explosions and smoke. We owned the fucking neighbourhood”

“Wow, she sounds...pretty cool too”

Bakugou kept going through Deku’s notes as they reached the shop. There was a short queue in front of them, so he took the time to properly read some of the hero biographies, and he even asked Deku some questions. Which he seemed more than happy to answer.

“And did you know that Midnight could possibly make someone sleep for three days in a row if they were exposed to her skin long enough??”

He couldn’t believe he hadn’t ask Midoriya about his investigations before...that was actually really useful information!

Were those really the same notebooks he had ruined back in middle school?

“Welcome boys!” The lady at the counter interrupted them “May I take your order?”

After they both had paid, they went to find a table outside. Everything was going way too smoothly by then, but things weren’t really moving along. And Bakugou wasn’t really a patient person.

STEP 3: BE KIND. He won’t really know you like him if you keep treating him like poop. Be nice! Tell him what you truly think about him.

“Oi, Deku” He said, with his spoon hanging from his mouth. How could he possibly tell him he was impressed by his improvement as a hero? “You are not the worst pathetic wimp I've ever seen"

Ok, that was progress.

“Uhm...thanks?”

“And your quirk doesn't suck” He kept trying, running out of ideas, trying to go through your advice and think of something nice to say “And casts somehow look badass on you"

“Are you... feeling ok, Kacchan?”

No, he was clearly not. He was confused and flustered and so very angry. Why was he always so angry? Why did Deku make him so angry?

STEP 4: TELL HIM HOW YOU FEEL

“You make me so fucking mad” He said, feeling his ice cream begin to melt in his hand “So, so mad"

Deku shrunk on his seat, confused, playing with his dessert without really eating it.

“I know I know, sorry, I just…”

“No! You don't know. You don't have a motherfucking clue!” Bakugou grabbed his own head “People always make me mad! I'm mad at their attitude, at their stupid faces and words, at their snobbishness! But you...you are different" He said, clicking his tongue in frustration “You make me angry at myself”

There was a short silence, in which not even the snowy winter air could help his engines cool down. He was so fucking stupid. You had said that, by that step of the list, Deku would have already noticed his romantic intentions. If he hadn't said anything about it by then it was obvious he wasn't interested.

“I'm...sorry" there it was, the rejection “I didn't mean to make you feel that way"

“Shut up" Fury didn't really feel like fury for him anymore. It was starting to soften, to burn in such a different way “Of course you didn’t fucking mean it”

“Is there...anything I could do? To make you feel better?”

“Hold my hand" He blurted out, senseless.

“What?”

“Hold my fucking hand for one fucking second, fuck!”

He extended his arm almost violently, palm upwards, fingers open.

Deku looked seriously conflicted.

“But...wouldn't (name) get mad?”

“What the hell does (name) have to do with this!?” He screamed.

“Well, since you two are dating, I thought that…”

“WHAT THE FUCK?? WE ARE NOT FUCKING DATING, YOU PIECE OF SHIT. WHY WOULD I ASK YOU ON A FUCKING DATE IF I WERE???”

“WAIT THIS IS A DATE???”

That was the last straw.

He had to stand up. He was pretty sure that, if he happened to stay one more second at that damn place, he would blow up the bench, the ice cream parlor, or even maybe the entire block. He could feel his face heating up, his forehead soaking. And that wasn’t a really good indicator for someone who sweats nitroglycerin.

He had to leave, he had to leave fast.

“Wait, Kacchan!”

Yet, before he could flee that new-found, so much bitter side of anger, there was a hand holding his, keeping him in place.

It was cold. Cold, frozen fingers gripping his own, numbing the boiling heat of his blood, his sweat, his chest. A chill slid down his back and into his gut, and as he looked up to meet Deku’s eyes, he suddenly wasn’t so angry anymore.

“Uhm, if this is was a date...then I guess I behaved pretty badly” He said, squeezing his hand a little “Can I at least walk you home?”

Bakugou blinked, confused, feeling so weak and off-guard without his fury, without his everlasting rage to keep him standing. Now, for the first time, he felt empty. Vulnerable. And he didn’t understand the emotions beginning to take place instead.

He nodded, and he must have looked quite odd, because Deku seemed more concerned about the expression on his face, rather than the flammable substance now damping both of their hands.

Later that afternoon, you got out of the shower and saw you had a text from Bakugou on your phone.

“What’s step 5???”

You smiled, assuming everything had gone according to plan, and immediately texted him back:

“Use protection ;)”

You could easily picture him blowing his phone to pieces.

THIS WAS A COMMISSION, FEEL FREE TO MESSAGE ME IF YOU WANT A DRABBLE ABOUT ANYTHING! You can find my conditions here! :) or you can buy me a kofi if you enjoyed my work! 

[quicksilversquared]

How To Fake A Marriage ch. 7

(AO3) (FF.net)

1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10

As he had with all of his other classes, Adrien had over-studied once again. He answered all of the questions on his last midterm with ease and even had time to go back and check over his answers. He handed his test in at the end of the test period, feeling good about his answers, and headed straight to the grocery store.

"Oh sweet, fabulous cheese," Plagg sighed as Adrien dropped several rounds of Camembert into his basket. "How I missed thee-"

"These have to last for the next week," Adrien warned him as he added two other blocks to his basket. "The people here already think I'm weird for always getting as much cheese as I do every time I shop. I'm not doing any mid-week trips."

Plagg pouted. "Oh, come on. Can't we buy any more?"

"Marinette'll get suspicious if she sees any more cheese in my fridge. You forget, she digs around in there too." Adrien left the cheese section, ignoring Plagg's whining. "And she already thinks it's weird that I'm always running out of cheese for recipes when she saw two kilo blocks in my fridge two days prior."

"You are weird," Plagg said. He promptly shut up when Adrien purposefully dropped a box of crackers on him.

Humming, Adrien continued on his way through the store. He wasn't going to do a full-out shopping trip for the next week like he normally would since he hadn't planned any meals out at all, but he wanted to have enough food for tonight, at the very least. He could make a simple meal and it would probably taste like gourmet after a week of frozen pizza and heated-up leftovers. He swung by his apartment to put things away and then headed straight back out to pick up hot sandwiches for himself and Marinette for lunch. Plagg complained, of course, but Adrien thought that he and Marinette deserved the treat. He added a couple of chocolate chip cookies as a bonus and headed over to see Marinette.

"This is stupid," Plagg grouched as Adrien trotted the few short blocks from the sandwich shop to Marinette's workplace. "Can't we just stay in the apartment and rest?"

"This won't take long," Adrien said with a sigh as they reached the Rosalie Fashions building. He reached out, opened the door and ducked inside.

And then he came to a screeching halt.

The ground floor was positively teeming with people. Workers, interns, and models alike were rushing to and fro, some pushing racks filled with covered clothes, others carrying boxes. Some looked strangely stressed, considering that Marinette had thought that things were nearly done. Adrien had to stumble back and hug the wall as several people rushed by him and out the door to the waiting moving van that had just pulled up.

He could only hope that Marinette's floor wasn't quite this insane.

Adrien zig-zagged across the ground floor, alternating between hugging the wall and dashing out whenever there was an opening. It didn't take him long to get to the stairs (though he did nearly slam into several people on his way) and then he sprinted up to the next floor, clutching his bag of sandwiches.

The first floor was, if possible, even more frantic than the ground floor. There was a sort of worried buzz in the air, which really didn't make that much sense. This wasn't Project Runway; the designers had had plenty of time to get things ready. Unless there had been some sort of catastrophe, they should be busy but not this insane.

"The problem is that, since it's Fashion Week, nearly all of the models are already booked," Madam Rosalie was saying as Adrien rounded the corner into the interns' area. The older designer was standing in the hallway between the cubicles surrounded by several of her workers, Marinette included. "There's only slim pickings left, and there's no guarantee that we'll be able to get them over here fast enough to do the alterations. Even if we did, they could be unprofessional or inexperienced on the runway and that's why they weren't picked up in the first place. We don't have time to train in a new model, and we can't make the models we do still have pick up any more looks. We already have a ridiculously short turnaround time for the models to change clothes."

"We can't just drop several looks," Marinette argued as Adrien drew close, curious. Had something happened to one of their models? No wonder they were so worried. "Could we maybe have a female model step in and just tuck up their hair and go for a unisex look? We'd have to do the alterations still, obviously, but at least we would know that they can walk and they're already on-site- Adrien! Hey! What are you doing here?"

Madam Rosalie spun around at the call and her eyes lit up as she saw Adrien standing there, looking about as puzzled as he felt. "Ah! He has heard our call for help and he has answered! Adrien, dear, one of our models was in a car accident and can't walk the runway tomorrow, you'll be an angel and help us out, right?"

Aha. A model in a car accident and unable to walk the runway would certainly explain a lot of the stress he had seen. And he was a model, and could take the missing person's place. Adrien didn't particularly like doing runway shows, but...

...well, he couldn't exactly say no, especially when Marinette looked so worried about the situation. Even if they weren't actually married, he would do almost anything to help Marinette out. That was what friends did, no matter how much Plagg wanted to read into it.

"Shannon, Emily, can you grab Richard's outfits and his shoes for me?" Madam Rosalie called to two of the other designers before Adrien could answer. His expression must have given his agreement away, or maybe Madam Rosalie was just used to getting what she wanted, just like his father was. Or maybe his people-pleasing reputation preceded him, even here in London. "Adrien looks like he should be the right size, we'll probably only have to do a few tucks to make it perfect. Marinette, can you help Adrien with the clothes? It should only take a few minutes and then you can eat whatever it was Adrien brought for you."

"Are you okay with this?" Marinette asked Adrien as Madam Rosalie whisked off to take care of something else, main crisis now averted. "You don't have to say yes, but it would really be a huge help."

"It's fine," Adrien assured her, resting one hand on her shoulder. "I've finished my midterms and we have next week off classes. I've done runways before. It's no big deal to help out with this one."

"You are an absolute angel," Marinette breathed, relief clear on her face as the other designers vanished, presumably to get the outfits that Adrien would be trying on. "We just heard about this model half an hour ago, so it was crazy last-minute. We weren't sure how we would get another person."

"Will he be all right eventually?" Adrien asked as he adjusted his bag on his shoulder. At this rate, the sandwiches would be cold by the time they got to them. Maybe the building had an oven or something they could use to heat them back up. "Or is the injury serious?"

Marinette shook her head. "No, he'll be fine. He's got a broken leg and some bruises and cuts on his arms, legs, and face, so he can't walk without crutches and even if he could, they would have to do some serious makeup work on him if they didn't want the cuts and whatnot showing up in photos."

Adrien winced. He knew full well how important looks were to a model's ability to work. If the guy couldn't do runways and wouldn't be able to do photoshoots until his injuries cleared up, he could be out a fair chunk of money. Hopefully he wasn't living from paycheck to paycheck.

"So what kinds of looks am I modelling?" Adrien asked, changing the subject. He was vaguely familiar with the kinds of clothing Madam Rosalie's company produced for women, but he had never really looked into their men's line. After all, he got pretty much all of his clothes from his father's lines.

"Fairly straightforward stuff, really. Shirts, jackets, dress pants..." Marinette shrugged. "There's a couple dramatic looks. Everything is fairly fitted, even for the men. Madam Rosalie hates baggy clothing. She says that it looks sloppy no matter what"

Adrien froze. Fitted pants? Normally he wouldn't have a problem with that, since he had worn fitted slacks to his business classes every day (he had promptly traded them out for jeans now that he was in the physics program, since he felt way overdressed otherwise) and he had definitely modeled close-cut pants before, but he had also been wearing different, well, undergarments.

Everyone- well, at least everyone in fashion- knew that one simply did not wear boxers under fitted dress pants. It made them bunch up and lump strangely. Adrien had known that for forever and had never, ever worn boxers to a fitting before. Until now.

Whoops.

"Is there something wrong?" Marinette asked after a moment when Adrien didn't say anything. A blush had started to rise in his cheeks. "Nothing's, like, super tight. We don't make leggings for men or anything crazy like that."

"I am...possibly not wearing the right kind of underwear to make the pants lay the way they're supposed to," Adrien admitted as his bush deepened. He suddenly found himself wishing that he was literally anywhere else but here right now. "I can run back home and change really quick if you want me to, because otherwise things are going to look pretty funny."

"Oh," was all Marinette managed to say. She seemed to have suddenly lost her words and her poise. Her face was quite possibly going redder than his as her eyes darted down almost inadvertently before she caught herself and stared at the ceiling instead. "Uh..."

"Maybe I can try on all of the tops and then while those get altered, I can run home and change?" Adrien suggested, wishing more than ever that he wasn't having this conversation with Marinette. Marinette was his friend, and she didn't need to be hearing about his underwear. Really, this conversation would have been easier with a complete stranger rather than a friend, as strange as that sounded. He wouldn't be worried about embarrassing a complete stranger. Besides, most dressers tended to learn to see models that they didn't know outside of work as walking, talking mannequins. Any kind of wardrobe malfunction was just seen as an annoying inconvenience rather than something to be embarrassed about.

Marinette just didn't have that kind of professional distance with him.

"Uh, I, uh..." Marinette was stammering, which was a bad sign. She hadn't stammered in front of him for forever. "Uh-"

"Emily! Can you run down the road and buy some men's briefs?" Madam Rosalie yelled over the noise of the floor, making both Adrien and Marinette jump. They hadn't seen her hovering near them. Adrien's face flushed impossibly redder in mortification as the other intern trotted over, regarding him curiously. "We need a set for Adrien to change into, let me grab you a company credit card- it doesn't need to be fancy, just a men's size, uh, let me see here-"

Adrien groaned and dropped his forehead onto Marinette's shoulder. It was making his neck crane somewhat painfully since she was so much shorter than he was, but it was better than listening to other people discuss his underthings. "Just kill me now. Death by humiliation." He paused. "They were checking out my rear, weren't they."

Marinette sounded like she was trying very hard not to laugh, which at least was a better sign than the stuttering. More humiliating for Adrien, perhaps, but he still preferred it to the uncomfortable stutters. "They were debating between two sizes. I didn't hear what they decided on."

Adrien was already wishing he hadn't stopped by. He had been expecting a hurried lunch with Marinette, followed by a relaxing afternoon where he would maybe try a new recipe or bake something for when Marinette finally stumbled back to their apartments, not being roped into doing a runway show and then having his underwear size debated by a friend of his parents' and a design intern while his friend stood nearby. Still, if it would make Marinette happy and not ridiculously stressed...

"Marinette, try the shirts and jackets on Adrien while Emily is out," Madam Rosalie ordered as she passed them again, ignoring the way Adrien was still banging his head against Marinette's shoulder. "She should be back soon, since she's taking my car."

"Will do," Marinette assured her boss. "Adrien, come on. Are you okay with changing shirts in my cubicle?"

"That's fine," Adrien assured her as he followed her into what was obviously her cubicle. He set the bag of sandwiches down on a clear spot on Marinette's desk and looked around. Another intern had already delivered the rack with his looks on it and the box of shoes to the small space, making it incredibly cramped. "I might have to duck into the bathroom to change the, uh, y'know-"

"Right! Right, right, of course." Marinette pulled the first hanger off the rack as Adrien shucked his t-shirt. He hung it over Marinette's chair and reached for the shirt she was offering him. It was fairly plain and straightforward, but that was to be expected. The star piece would be the jacket and probably the pants as well. He pulled the shirt over his head carefully, making sure not to stretch it. The shirt fit him almost perfectly, making him wonder how close he was in size to the injured model. The sleeves were a little long on him, though.

"Oh, this fits you better than it did Richard," Marinette said when she finally turned her attention back to Adrien (she had been staring resolutely at the wall, Adrien noted with some amusement). "It was a little tight on him, but somehow the marks got removed before we could alter it. We'll probably have to take in a couple other things." She reached forward to fiddle with the cuffs, tweaking them until they sat properly. Reaching over, Marinette snagged a few pins off of her desk and pinned the change in place.

"Hopefully the shoes fit," Adrien said as Marinette moved to the other sleeve and checked how the length was on him. "I can walk in large shoes, but it might affect my stride a bit."

"Ooh, we'll check those after this outfit," Marinette said, tugging the jacket off the hanger and helping Adrien into it. It was a long cut, dramatic in its shape, and had some nice details on it. "Then if we need to get a new size, we can send Emily out to get it. There's only the one pair for the male models, thankfully. Some of the female models have a couple different shoes."

Adrien grinned as Marinette grumbled and pulled the jacket right back off. It was too loose across the shoulders but fit everywhere else, so Marinette flipped the jacket inside out, put it back on him, marked the changes with pins and chalk, pulled the jacket back off, and waved down a passing worker to take the piece to the sewing room with instructions for the sewers.

"At least your old model wasn't smaller than me," Adrien said helpfully as he removed the shirt, making sure not to disturb the pins. Getting the fit messed up so close to runway week would be the absolute last thing they needed at a time like this. "And- uh, is everything else ready? Or do you have the seamstresses working on other things as well?"

"They were working on some prototypes for the winter line, but they can put everything aside for last-minute alterations for Fashion Week." Marinette hung the shirt up near her doorway and picked up the shoebox. "They work pretty fast, but they're a bit busy at the moment with little last-minute adjustments. There were some fit issues with some of the women's looks, and then- well, long story short, we have a lot of embroidery on some of the pieces and that makes the alterations a bit more difficult. That's putting them behind schedule a bit."

Marinette pulled out the first shoe and handed it to Adrien. He sat down in her desk chair to pull his own shoes off and pull the first one on. It fit pretty well, which was a relief. They were already busy enough without having to track down a pair of shoes that would fit him properly. He pulled the second one on and practiced his runway walk as best he could in Marinette's cramped cubicle. "These work well."

"That's good," Marinette said, relief clear in her voice as she watched him walk and pivot to head back in her direction. "We're already crazy enough in here today without any more, uh-"

"Any more trips to fetch things?" Adrien suggested, blush rising again. God, if this was how awkward they got when merely vaguely referring to Adrien's, ah, underwear problem, then how weird would they actually get around each other when it was time for him to try on the pants?

"Yeah." Marinette waited as Adrien sat back down and tugged the shoes off. She took them back and packed them back into the box. "Okay, now let's try the rest of the outfits. Maybe we can get these all done before Emily gets back."

  They got all of the shirts and jackets marked for adjustments and were halfway through their sandwiches by the time Emily returned.

"I got turned around and caught in traffic," Emily said sheepishly as she tossed two packages of black men's briefs into Adrien's lap. Both he and Marinette turned pink almost instantly at the sight. "I'm not used to driving around the city. And Madam Rosalie and I couldn't decide on the right size so I got two sizes. One of them should fit."

"Right, thank you," Adrien managed before Emily bounced off to go take care of something else. He stared at the packages for a moment, wondering what the best way was to excuse himself.

"Oh! I should get you a bag to put, uh," Marinette's eyes flicked down again and back up. Her cheeks went even redder. "Keep things in. Um-"

"If we finish our sandwiches, I can just use the bag from that," Adrien said quickly. He set the packages of briefs down on the floor and picked his sandwich back up, eager to change the subject, even if only for a bit. "We'll both have to wash our hands before we touch the clothes anyway, so we might as well just finish these first while they're still somewhat warm."

"Right, of course." Marinette took another bite of her sandwich and hummed in pleasure, savoring the taste. "Thank you so much for the sandwich, Adrien. It's delicious. Just what I needed after the morning we had."

"I have cookies, too," Adrien said as he polished off his own sandwich in three more bite. He grinned as Marinette perked up. "They're in a smaller bag in this bag, though, so if you wanted to save them for later, we could do that."

"Later might be good. I want to get things over to the sewing room as fast as possible." Marinette finished her own sandwich and stood up, stretching as she did. "Ready?"

  The pants all fit perfectly. Marinette let out a sigh of relief as she hung the last pair back up on the rack and waited for Adrien to put his jeans back on. She stared resolutely at the wall until the rustling stopped, and then she waited another ten seconds for good measure before turning around.

"That's it?" Adrien asked, patting down his hair. It had gotten a little mussed from him pulling his t-shirt over his head and probably also from him banging his forehead against Marinette's shoulder earlier. "That wasn't awful."

"We'll probably need you to come back in tomorrow sometime for final fittings," Marinette admitted. "I talked to Emily while you were, uh, in the bathroom earlier, and she said that there were some delays. They're probably still working on the embroidered pieces. I'm really sorry-"

"It's fine, Marinette," Adrien assured her, catching hold of one of her frantically flailing hands before she could whack it against the wall. He only let go when he knew he had her attention. "I wouldn't want the seamstresses to rush on my behalf. I don't have anything going on tomorrow, so I can come in, no problem."

"I know, but I'm sure you would rather go exploring or something instead." Marinette sighed, straightening the hangers that remained on the racks. She fiddled with one of the pairs of pants, making sure the creases stayed right where she wanted them to be. "I know you had talked about exploring London more-"

"It's more fun to go with someone else," Adrien assured her. "Maybe I'll go explore stuff you already visited before while you're busy here, but I would rather go with you to new places."

There was a faint oooh from outside the cubicle. Adrien and Marinette ignored it. Or, well, Adrien ignored it and Marinette turned pink and started fiddling with the hem of the pants on the hanger closest to her.

"So if we are all done, I think I'll take off and go see a museum or something yet this afternoon," Adrien said, stretching. "There's still a couple more hours until they close."

"You know how to get there without getting lost?" Marinette asked, abandoning the pants to glance over at him. "Because I can tell you what bus lines-"

"You already told me a few weeks ago," Adrien reminded her gently. He waved his phone at her. "I wrote everything you told me on my phone. And I can always text you if I have any questions."

"Okay, if you're sure. Oh!" Marinette suddenly jumped, turning to her desk. "The cookies! Here, we should have them before you go."

"Right, I almost forgot!" Adrien accepted his cookie from Marinette and took a bite. It wasn't quite as good as the ones that Marinette's parents made and didn't come close to Marinette fresh-out-of-the-oven cookies, but it was still fabulous. "See you later, Marinette! Don't work too late!"

"I thought you said that we were going to go back to the apartment and sleep," Plagg complained as Adrien headed for the stairs. "This isn't sleeping. This is spending too much time in your underwear around your wife and then wandering around the city."

"Exploring is more fun," Adrien shot back, ignoring the dig about his underwear. "Besides, you can sleep in my pocket just fine." He reached the stairs and starting jogging downward. Amazingly enough, the insane frenzy that had been there before had magically vanished. "It's not as though I'm going to an amusement park. You aren't going to accidentally be flung out of my pocket again."

Plagg grumbled, sticking his head further out of Adrien's jacket when he saw the coast was clear. "I still don't trust you after that." A pause. "Aren't you forgetting something?"

Adrien paused at the bottom of the stairs and glanced down at himself, frowning. "No, I don't think so. Why?"

"So you're just going to leave your wife to pick up your underwear, then?"

Adrien froze, then swore and spun around to sprint right back up the stairs. He had completely forgotten to take the bag with his boxers in it with him. That was stupid of him, and he couldn't ask Marinette to have to deal with them. Maybe he should have changed back into his own things, but he did want to get over to the museum before it got too close to closing time.

Marinette glanced up as Adrien skidded back into her workspace. "Adrien? What-"

"I forgot to grab this to take back to my place," Adrien said with a sheepish smile as he snagged the former sandwich bag. "Sorry about that. See you later, Mari!"

"Have fun!" Marinette called after him.

"Which museum are we going to?" Plagg asked as Adrien jogged back down the stairs, bag safely in hand. "Aren't there a ton of museums in the city?"

"Yeah, but I'm not all that interested in some of them." Adrien waved to a few passing workers and headed out the door and onto the street. "Like the Imperial War Museum, or the London Transport Museum, or the National Maritime Museum. The Design Museum would be something I'd be more likely to visit with Marinette because otherwise I really wouldn't get anything out of it, and I want a full day for the Science Museum. Mari and I already visited an art museum, so I probably won't go to another for a bit. I'm thinking I'll do the Natural History Museum. It sounds cool."

"Is there a cheese museum? If there is, we should go there."

"No."

  Marinette found herself booted out of the Rosalie Fashions at four o'clock.

"You've been working overtime all week and everything you can do is done for now," Madam Rosalie said as she shepherded Marinette and several other workers towards the doors. "Go home, get your shopping and cleaning and whatnot done before Fashion Week starts, because even once our show is over, I suspect that most of you will hang around the building late watching other shows during the rest of the week. I'll need a couple of you for a couple hours tomorrow for the fittings that couldn't make it today, but otherwise I'll see you bright and early Monday morning."

"That's nice of her," Tikki said as Marinette headed down the sidewalk. "What are you gonna do with your free afternoon?"

"I need to go grocery shopping," Marinette said with a sigh. "Just a supply run, really, but I need some fruit and some bread at the very least. Maybe some more chocolate chips as well," she added, making Tikki squeal with joy. "So we can make more chocolate-chip cookies."

"Oh, well, we definitely should go grocery shopping, then!" Tikki decided, settling into Marinette's purse. "Onward ho!"

Marinette could only giggle as she headed down the street. "Has Adrien texted at all?"

"Nope. He must have arrived at the museum just fine. Which one was he going to?"

"He didn't say." Marinette unlocked her building's door and went in, jogging up the stairs. "Ugh, if I had known that I would have the time to shop, I would have brought my bags with me so I didn't have to come back here first."

"It was nice of Adrien to say he could help out," Tikki said as Marinette ducked into her apartment and grabbed the cloth bags stored by the door. She re-locked her door and headed back down the stairs. "That was scary for a few minutes there!"

"Yeah, I'm glad he showed up." It had been a surprise to see Adrien, of course, and she had been irritated for a few moments because they were in the middle of a crisis, there wasn't time to have a lunch break, but then Madam Rosalie had roped Adrien into filling their empty model spot and everything was all right again. Of course, they had to deal with some embarrassment as Adrien had to get undressed for Marinette to fit things on him (she had tried not to look), but they had got through it.

Eventually. With a lot of blushing. Of course, they would have to do the same thing tomorrow- or, rather, nearly. Since the pants needed no adjustment, they wouldn't have to try them on again at all. Thankfully.

The shopping trip took almost no time- after a couple of months, Marinette knew the place almost like the back of her own hand and besides, she wasn't getting all that much- and then she headed home again, swinging by a bakery that caught her eye on the way back. Adrien wasn't back yet- depending on what museum he went to and if he was staying until closing time, he could be a while- so Marinette got a batch of chocolate-chip cookies going before she contemplated what they could eat for dinner. There was the fruit she just bought, of course, and she could probably pull something together with what she had bought and what she had left in her pantry, but Adrien had said something earlier during the fittings about how he had bought fixings for dinner. Once he got back, she could bring over a salad and maybe some cookies along with the treat she had picked up at the bakery on her way home to go along with whatever Adrien was making.

Decision made, Marinette set to chopping up the fruit and vegetables she had bought.

Half an hour later, her phone charmed with an incoming text. Marinette abandoned her tray of cookies, half-transferred to a cooling rack, and trotted over to the table to check the message. Behind her, unnoticed, Tikki snitched a still warm cookie and took a giant bite.

"Adrien's just leaving the Natural History Museum now," Marinette reported as Tikki tried not to let her eyes bulge out too much at how hot the cookie was. Even after living with Marinette for over six years, the kwami had not quite learned to let the cookies cool some before eating them. "He said it was great and he wouldn't mind going back again on a rainy day." She shot a short text back and returned to the kitchen. She paused when she saw Tikki with a warm, crumbling cookie sitting by her and bulging cheeks. The kwami sent her a wide smile, trying to look innocent and failing.

"That's good he liked it," Tikki managed, trying not to spray cookie crumbs as she talked. "Was that the one with the insects?"

"I told you that you had to wait until the cookies were a little cooler, Tikki," Marinette said with a sigh. She went over to the fridge and pulled out a jug of milk, pouring a small glass of milk before returning the jug to the fridge and handing the tiny glass to Tikki. The kwami took the milk with a smile and took a sip before swallowing her mouthful of cookie. She took a few more sips, emptying the small cup.

"Thank you, Marinette!"

"The cookies will be cool enough to eat in a few minutes," Marinette said with a sigh, picking up her spatula and transferring the last few cookies to the cooling rack. "And they'll still be warm and gooey, but you won't burn your mouth. Think you can wait that long?"

Tikki nodded sheepishly.

  Adrien, as it had turned out, had quite enjoyed the museum.

"It's practically right on campus," he told Marinette, grinning. "So, y'know, it was a little difficult to get lost."

"Oh shush," Marinette said with a laugh, swatting at his side as he smirked at her. "You didn't say which one you were going to. For all I knew, you could be heading all the way across the city."

Adrien nodded seriously as he stirred a pot of soup. "All the way across the city and up to Scotland, to be exact. I figured that would be the most sensible thing to do."

Marinette snorted. "Right. Of course." She snickered. "If that's your idea of sensible, I can understand why your father gave you a set of rules to follow while you're here."

"Very funny."

"I thought so, too." Marinette watched Adrien stir the pot for a few more moments, then asked, "Have you let your father know yet that you won't be heading back to Paris?"

Adrien froze, then promptly swore, one hand flying to his forehead. "Shoot! No, I completely forgot. Here, can you stir this while I text him?"

"Of course." Marinette stepped easily into Adrien's place, taking the spoon and continuing with the stirring with barely an interruption at all. "But how did you forget? He's only been sending you several texts per day asking about it."

Adrien just grinned sheepishly. "I just started ignoring it, to be honest. After a while, it just became background noise."

Marinette groaned at him. Adrien laughed.

"Do you think he'll come to London to watch you walk?"

Adrien snorted as he pulled his phone out from his pocket. "Hardly. He's seen me walk before at home. If he hasn't bothered to come to see Madam Rosalie's runway shows before, he's hardly going to start now." He tapped away at the screen, then sent the text. "Done. Actually, the runway gives me a nice excuse not to go home. I was worried that my father would call me every day to try to persuade me to go back to Paris for the break."

Marinette had to laugh at that. "You were never planning on going home for the break, were you?"

Adrien flashed her a sheepish smile. "Well, I mean, I did consider it..."

Marinette waited.

"...for about an hour sometime back near the start of term," Adrien finished, trying for his best innocent look. It didn't quite fit with the strangely familiar smirk playing at the corners of his mouth. "But I knew my father would pester me if I said that right away, so I let him think that I was still trying to make up my mind."

"He pestered you anyway," Marinette said with a sigh as Adrien's phone let out a ding. Adrien had complained about the pestering nearly every day and Marinette had only just refrained from pointing out that it generally was a good idea to make up one's mind about whether or not they would be visiting well in advance so that no one would have to scramble to get last minute plane tickets. She supposed that it probably wasn't a huge deal for the Agrestes, though. They certainly had enough money to buy last-minute tickets left and right. "I fail to see how telling him outright would have made a difference."

"I figured it would be like the difference in my father's behavior when I was considering going to school in London compared to when I made my final decision," Adrien admitted, checking his phone as it let out a ding. "Father was trying to gently dissuade me when I hadn't decided yet, and then once I had, he was coming up with new reasons every day why I shouldn't go."

"Was that him?" Marinette asked, nodding to Adrien's phone.

"Yup. He's not happy, but he can understand. He was just glad that he hadn't already bought tickets for me." Another ding, and Adrien checked his phone again. "Aaaaand... he apparently already had Nathalie look up when I would be walking, so he wants to know if I'll be coming back after my part of the runway show is done."

Marinette raised a curious eyebrow as Adrien tapped out a response. "Let me guess...you 'haven't decided yet'?"

Adrien grinned and sent the message. "Nah. I said that I wanted to stick around to see the entirety of Madam Rosalie's lines walk because this was your first show, and then I want to go with you to a couple of the other shows you mentioned. By the time those would be over it wouldn't be worth the time or the money to go back to Paris."

"Using me as a shield then, hmm?" Marinette teased before glancing down into the pot. "Uh, how long do I have to stir this for?"

"Until the timer goes off." Another ding came from Adrien's phone and he checked it once more. "And hey, it worked. He said that's great and that I should stay."

Marinette raised an eyebrow.

"I might have mentioned that your parents and Nino and Alya wouldn't be able to make it," Adrien admitted with a grin. "So I would be the only person from Paris that you knew here."

Marinette laughed at that, shaking her head. "You're the worst, really."

Adrien's stomach growled before he could respond and they both laughed.

"I brought fresh cookies," Marinette said before Adrien could start snitching from the salad. With her free hand, she pointed to the small basket she had brought over. Most of the cookies she had made she had left for Tikki, but just because the small god loved chocolate-chip cookies didn't mean that Marinette couldn't share some of them. Cookies were best fresh, after all. "Go ahead."

"I'll spoil my appetite," Adrien said, though she could tell that he wasn't terribly opposed to the idea. He drifted forward a few steps. "And I really shouldn't, not until I'm done modelling for Fashion Week..."

Marinette waited.

"But I mean, I did get in some decent walking around today, what with the grocery shopping and going to Rosalie Fashions and walking around in the museum..."

Smiling, Marinette kept stirring. Adrien might try to resist the call of freshly baked cookies, but they were his weak spot. Sure enough, seconds later, there was the sound of quiet munching.

Hah. She knew he wouldn't be able to resist.

"What did you look at in the Natural History Museum?" Marinette asked, peering into the pot of soup. "Surely you couldn't see everything?"

"Some things were more interesting than others," Adrien admitted. He didn't move away from the basket of cookies. "I spent most of my time in the Blue Zone. They have so many specimens, it's amazing. And the blue whale model, and the skeletons-"

The timer beeped, and Marinette stopped stirring. Adrien trotted over, cookie hanging half-eaten from his lips.

"Time to eat!" Adrien announced, switching off the heat. He took another bite of his cookie and grinned at her. "If I still have space for it, that is."

Marinette poked his side. "Yeah, yeah. You say that like I didn't just see you put away three whole servings for dinner yesterday. I'm sure you'll survive."

Adrien just laughed.

  "Tart?" Marinette offered as Adrien brought his plate and bowl into the kitchen once they were finished with dinner. "I swung past the bakery while I was out on my supply run and I just couldn't resist."

Adrien groaned as he paused. The tarts Marinette was offering smelled (and looked) amazing, and there was nothing more he wanted to do than eat one, but... "Did you forget that I'm being a model again? I'm pretty certain I'm not allowed carbohydrates, never mind sweets. You'll destroy my diet."

"Do some jumping jacks first, then."

He couldn't hold back his laugh. "I don't think our downstairs neighbors would appreciate that."

"Do it tomorrow, then, between your fittings. No downstairs neighbors to worry about."

Adrien grinned and took the plate Marinette was offering before ruffling her hair with his other hand. His friend laughed and ducked away. "You're an awful influence on me, I hope you know that."

Marinette grinned as she patted her hair back down. "Guilty."

"I'm blaming you if I can't fit into my pants during Fashion Week," Adrien said with a laugh as he took the first bite of his tart. He closed his eyes as he let the taste melt on his tongue. "Mmmm. This is delicious."

"Worth the jumping jacks?"

Well, he wasn't about to let her win that easily. "Well, maybe..."

Definitely. It would definitely be worth it, even if Adrien had actually been worried about the extra treat at all. With his tests over, he could just go for a quick run over the rooftops to work off the extra energy from the tart- and from the cookies- in a heartbeat. Besides, it wasn't as though he had been on a diet in the first place. He had been eating normally, sweets and all, and the clothes had been fit to that.

"So dramatic," Marinette sighed as she settled into her chair with her own tart. She took a bite and sighed in bliss. "I knew these looked good. I just had to buy them."

"Doesn't everything in a bakery look good?" It certainly did to Adrien. He had to restrain himself from popping in to buy something from the bakery on the way to the bus stop every day.

"In a good bakery, maybe. Others are a bit of a mixed bag." Marinette took another bite and Adrien waited for her to swallow and keep explaining. "Some places tend to overbake things, or maybe they didn't do their caramelization quite right, or there's just things off that make me think that they didn't combine things quite right." She shrugged. "It comes with growing up in a bakery. Papa would sometimes experiment with new recipes and we would taste them. Some things were more successful than others."

"I can't see your dad making anything that tasted anything less than delightful."

Marinette laughed at that. "I'm inviting you over next time he goes on an experimenting spree. He almost always does it during the month that we have to be closed for vacation and some of his first round of creations are less than great."

"I can't wait." Adrien took another slow bite of the tart, savoring the flavor. He'd definitely have to buy more in the future because it really was superb. "Does he add new things to the bakery often, then, if his experiments work out?"

"Not often. Normally he turns those things into a special of the month, or holiday specials. Sometimes he finds something that's popular enough that he'll add it to the regular selection."

"Doesn't it make it harder to make everything if he has a wider variety of things that he offers?" Adrien wanted to know. "Because I know that croissants take forever, and decorating takes time, and your family makes so much of everything..."

"And we only have so much shelf space," Marinette pointed out. "But we do have mixing vats for some of the big bread batches, and my parents do have other staff that come in and help get things going in the morning. They wouldn't be able to get everything done themselves, even as early as they get up. My dad bakes throughout the day, of course, so that things on the shelves are fresh all day. Some people pile up the shelves at the start of the day and don't keep baking, but my dad said that just leads to dry, stale bread and a lot of people want warm bread when they come into a bakery."

"It does seem like it tastes better when warm," Adrien admitted. "Whatever your parents are doing, it certainly does seem to be working for them. Their bakery is amazing." He took another bite of his tart. "Do they make anything like this?"

"I don't think so. I should bring a couple to my father next time I go home and see if my dad can come up with a recipe of his own. I think they would be popular."

"You'd never get me to leave if your father made these," Adrien said with a grin before he changed the subject. "What time does Madam Rosalie want me to come in tomorrow? And is there a dress rehearsal before the show?"

"About nine, and no, we just have workers that shove the models into place and out onto the runway. It's less work that way, according to Madam Rosalie. And it generally works, as long as we have experienced models. That was part of the reason that we really didn't want to have to pick up a new model last-minute, because they might not be experienced enough to handle the way Madam Rosalie does it."

"I'll get to sleep in, then," Adrien decided with a grin. He finished his last bite of the tart, cleaning off the plat, and then he glanced up at his friend. "Well, I have nothing to study and you have nothing to sew. Want to watch a movie?"

"You bet."

[i-write-shakespeare-not-disney]

The New Romantics ch. 4

Part 1 Here

Part 2 Here

Part 3 Here 

click the OP if the read more link doesn’t show.

When Keith opened his eyes, Lance was gone. It took him a moment to remember what had happened the night before and he wasn’t sure how he felt about it now that he was alone. He understood what Lance meant about cuddles to cushion the subconscious thought of feeling dirty.

Several lines had been crossed, and Keith was well aware there was absolutely no going back at this point. Maybe before they may have been able to laugh it off or pretend nothing had happened. But not anymore. Keith groaned and willed himself to go back to sleep, but he was also aware of how physically dirty he was since he’d simply fallen asleep the night before instead of cleaning up.

Scrunching his nose, he wrapped a towel around his waist and went to the showers. It was still early, and Keith knew he was the only one awake. As he showered, he wondered how he was supposed to look at Lance like nothing had happened. It had to become awkward. Keith had never been one to have a close relationship with anyone, emotionally or physically. He was close to Shiro, but even then he had his walls up. Now this physical thing with Lance which had put them both in vulnerable, exposed positions with each other in every sense of the word…. It was too bizarre.

It’d been vulnerable. It’d been open. And Keith didn’t do openness or vulnerability. Once he was done showering, he went back to his room, smelling the sweetness of whatever Hunk had concocted for that morning. He dressed quickly, throwing on jeans and a black shirt before racing down to breakfast.

He’d been starving, and was so overcome with the urge to eat he’d completely forgotten his apprehension until he found himself sitting across from Lance. Even Lance seemed a little awkward, eyes flitting along the table as he babbled on and on half about one thing, half about another.

Hunk managed to shut him up by forcing a spoonful of food down his throat.

“Pidge, you seem rather chipper this morning,” Allura noted after Lance had busied his mouth with food instead of words.

“Well, after sleeping in Green for a while, I missed my bed.”

“Why were you sleeping in your lion?” Shiro asked.

Lance had stopped eating. Keith clenched his jaw, careful to keep a poker face. For a half second, Lance locked eyes with Keith and they both turned to look at Pidge. The look on her face let them know that she hadn’t caught onto her slip up until Shiro pointed it out, but she recovered quickly. “I’ve just been tinkering with her system. I stay there late, so I just fall asleep there.” Lance turned back to his food and Keith ran a hand through his hair tiredly.

“Hey, Pidge, maybe you can help me out my lion. I’m thinking a special mini fridge to keep sandwiches, you know? In case I get hungry.” The others looked at Hunk in exasperation. “No?”

“Anyway... With our systems up and running, we may not need to leave this planet just yet,” Allura said. “However if the Galra are following us, we may want to be on the move.”

“In the meantime, we’re going to figure out how the Galra were able to infiltrate the system,” Coran said.

“What does that mean for us? More exploring?” Hunk asked.

“No. We should rest for a bit. I’m going to see if I can help Coran bring the castle defenses back up while Pidge and Allura make sure the systems can’t be overridden again,” Shiro said.

Keith hadn’t really been paying attention until everyone started bustling around. He rushed to finish his breakfast and figure out what he was supposed to do. Before he could berate himself for not paying attention, a pair of hands settled on his arms, stopping him in his tracks.

He blinked rapidly, confused until he saw Lance. He looked serious. Worried. “Are you mad at me?” he blurted.

Keith frowned and furrowed his eyebrows. “What? No? Why would I be?”

He shrugged, gripping the sleeves of his jacket. “For last night. Or for leaving. I don’t know.” He ran a hand through his hair and sighed. “I don’t know. Last night just…. Felt like a major shift.”

A relieved sigh escaped Keith’s lips. He nodded and crossed his arms. “I think I know what you mean.” He frowned and managed to meet his eyes. He didn’t feel embarrassed like he thought he would. He felt a little exposed, but Lance wasn’t a person to exploit that. At least, Keith didn’t think he was. “I’m not mad. Just… not sure how we’re supposed to act like nothing happened when… so much did, I guess?” He ran a hand through his hair and shrugged. “You okay?”

The corner of Lance’s mouth quirked up. “I’m okay,” he answered. “So… we’re good?”

Keith nodded. “We’re good.”

He stuffed his hands in his jacket pockets and tilted his head. “Since we’re left to our own devices, you want to hang out?” Keith raised an eyebrow and Lance rolled his eyes. “Yesterday, when you were upset…. I guess I sort of realized that even though we’re friends- some days, of course- I don’t really know a lot about you.”

Keith immediately felt his defenses go up. He shook his head and turned away, walking down the hall. “No, no, no. I don’t do heart-to-heart talks, Lance. I don’t talk about my feelings or thoughts, okay?”

He could hear Lance’s steps behind him, and with his long legs, it wasn’t long before he was in front of Keith, stopping him again. “I’m not saying I want you to tell me your deep, dark secrets. I’m saying… I don’t know. Things like, what’s your favorite color, or your favorite hobby, those kinds of things.”

Keith looked at him suspiciously. “Are you asking me on a date? Because I don’t do those either, Lance, and this was supposed-”

“No!” he groaned in exasperation. “Just… never mind,” he sighed. He shrugged, and lowered his eyes. “See you at training.” He turned away and something about the tone of his voice made Keith feel a sharp tug of regret in his stomach.

The closer Lance got to the end of the hall, the more insistent the feeling felt, until he managed to call his name. Lance turned, and Keith let his head fall back, staring at the ceiling. “Fine. But just because I have nothing better to do.”

He walked toward him and noticed the victorious smirk on his face. “Whatever you say, Mullet,” he chuckled. Keith decided to pretend he hadn’t heard him and followed him until they got to the lion hangar. Lance sat at the paw of his lion and Keith sat beside his own. It gave them a good five feet of space between them. Lance raised an eyebrow and snorted. “I don’t bite, Keith.”

“Um, yeah you do,” he pointed out. Lance’s eyes went wide, his cheeks flaming red under olive skin before he burst into laughter, with Keith following shortly after.

“Yeah, I guess you’re right,” he chuckled. “You know what I meant.”

Keith shrugged and leaned back against Red. “Black. And drawing,” he said. It was silent and he looked over at Lance who was staring at him in confusion. “My favorite color and hobby,” he explained.

The smile that spread on Lance’s face reminded Keith of a child’s smile on Christmas morning. “Really? I mean, I guess I could’ve guessed on the black. But drawing?”

“Any art, I guess,” he admitted. “I like seeing my hand smeared in pencil lead or charcoal or pastels. I like bringing a blank paper to life with a few lines or a few colors. Making something out of nothing. Even when I was little and I’d go to the beach, I’d sit in the sand and make stuff. Not sandcastles like kids usually do, but… faces, people coming out of the sand, hands, things like that.” He chuckled and looked at his hands. “I miss doing that. Sculpting, sketching, coloring. I was trying to get a hang of watercolors and acrylics, but I never really managed to get far.”

“I don’t think I’d ever have pegged you for an artist. Artists are so serene, so calm, so patient. You’re the opposite. Red can attest to that!”

Keith snorted and shook his head. “Are you kidding? Trust me, artists are not calm. It’s always, What fucking color am I looking for? Where the fuck is my pen? Fuck the other eye, fuck it. Fuck shading! Screw this stupid crick in my neck I’ve been working on this for hours! And many, many more f-bombs and anger.” Lance was laughing so hard, he was doubled over. He could imagine Keith in those exact scenarios. “As for patient? Well, drawing is the only time when I’m not really aware of time. There’s nowhere I have to be, nothing I’m rushing for. It’s my time to just… be. I guess.” Lance hummed and looked at Keith with the remnants of a smile on his face. “What about you?”

“My favorite color is lilac. Like the sky at sunrise. My favorite hobby?” He shrugged. “I don’t know. A little of everything I guess. I liked helping my mom cook, or playing tag with my siblings. I never really had a passion, you know? Until I got to the Garrison, at least. Then, being a pilot was all I ever wanted to do. That’s why I hated you so much when you were there. It came so naturally to you and I was working my butt off to be the best at something for once.”

Keith raised an eyebrow. “‘Hated?’” he questioned.

Blue eyes flickered to him guiltily. “Envied? I don’t know. Very strong negative feelings,” he laughed. Keith laughed along with him, ducking his head.

There was a part of him that wanted to know how that hate or envy went away. If it was past tense, surely it was gone, right? What replaced it? Friendship? After the last few weeks… Keith doubted the term friendship even applied to them. He didn’t think it ever could again.

It was quiet for a moment as Keith lost himself in his thoughts. Being at the Garrison felt like years ago. He remembered caring so much about the stupid school. Now it just seemed so insignificant, such a miniscule problem compared to the things happening now.

He very vaguely remembered Lance in his time there. He remembered seeing him around the corridors, tall and lanky, always sticking out like a sore thumb because of it. He never really thought much of him. Keith never thought much of anyone. No one else really mattered at the Garrison. It was strange to think of those times. Those days when Lance was a nameless familiar face, then fast-forwarding to being a sort of coworker in defending the galaxy with his annoying bravado, and fast-forwarding once more to Keith squirming at his touch, his name falling from his lips like a desperate prayer.

He ran his hand through his hair, yanking at the roots to ground himself to reality again.

Suddenly, Lance’s uncharacteristically soft, vulnerable voice broke through his frustration. “What do you think they told my family?” Keith looked over at him, surprised to see his face clear of any emotion whatsoever. Stoic expressions were not a Lance thing. They were a Keith thing. And it looked wrong on Lance. When a few seconds passed without a response, Lance’s eyes flickered to Keith. “I don’t know if they think I’m missing, or ran away, or… dead. I don’t know what I’d rather have them think.” His voice was so flat, so empty, it terrified Keith.

He had no idea how to offer comfort for someone so full of emotions like Lance. He didn’t know what to do if Lance started crying or if he begged Keith for consolation. That was something Shiro did. Something Hunk could do for Lance. Even Pidge could be better at this than Keith.

“I’m sorry,” he sighed, lowering his head and hiding his face. Keith frowned, not understanding why Lance apologized when Keith was the one who didn’t even acknowledge him. “I just… thinking about tag and cooking just made me remember other things with my family. And I have this really painful pressure in my chest now, and I don’t want to cry because that won’t do anything, but I can’t help it, my throat hurts and I-”

His voice was breaking. It was weak. It was pained. And it was so unlike Lance, that Keith couldn’t handle it. And that was why he did the only thing he knew how to do when it came to Lance- he kissed him.

He heard the thud of Lance’s back against Blue, felt the shock and hesitation on his lips. “Don’t cry,” he pleaded against his lips. “Don’t cry.” He kissed him again, his lips familiar though still hesitant.

Then Keith felt his hands on his shoulders, pushing him back gently. He pulled away and looked at Lance worriedly. They’d never kissed outside of their rooms since their first kiss. It was like an unspoken rule. His blue eyes stared at him in shock and confusion, but he didn’t seem upset. “What are you doing?” he whispered.

Keith gulped and stared back at him. “Um, well… I didn’t know what to do…,” he mumbled. “I don’t know what to say to make you feel better, I’m not good at those things.”

Lance furrowed his eyebrows and gave him a small smile. “So you kissed me instead?” Keith frowned and sat back, pressed against Red, a bright blush dusting his cheeks. He crossed his arms and stared at the ground. A few moments later, Lance shuffled closer to him. “I appreciate the attempt,” he said with an honest smile. “As for how to comfort me, it’s like this.” Lance scooted next to him and pulled Keith’s arms away from his chest and around himself. Keith shifted as Lance placed his head on his shoulder and pulled Keith’s arms in tighter. “This is a hug.”

“I know that,” Keith grumbled. But he wrapped his arms tighter around him. “But does it even help?”

Lance shrugged. “I can still be sad. But I don’t feel so lonely anymore. It’s just… comforting.” Keith hummed and leaned his cheek against the crown of Lance’s head. “And even if I cry, it’s not like it’s your fault.”

“No, but you’re Lance. You joke around and you laugh too loud and you smile like you slept with a hanger in your mouth. You don’t cry.”

“Everyone cries,” he answered softly. “You don’t go kissing everyone who cries, do you?” Keith groaned and shoved him away, but he was delighted to hear Lance’s familiar laugh. “I’m kidding,” he chuckled. He pressed his shoulder against Keith’s and let his head rest against Red.

Keith bit his lip and sighed. “I’m not good with people,” he muttered.

“You can learn,” Lance suggested. “There’s comfort in listening to me. Thank you for that.”

Keith held out his fist. “Frenemies.” Lance smirked and touched his knuckles to Keith’s. “When I’m overwhelmed, I train. It gives me something to focus on, you know? Moving, sore muscles, it… it’s distracting. You want to try that? We could team up against the training sequences.”

Lance tilted his head. “Hm. Worth a shot. Come on.” He stood and hauled Keith up. They walked out of the hangar and to the training room in comfortable silence. Once they were there, Lance walked around, claiming to stretch, but it looked more like he was trying to imitate a ninja. Keith couldn’t help but smirk at the sight. What a goof.

“Initiate level two training sequence,” he said, pulling his hair up. Lance grabbed his bayard just as the first droid ran at them. It was simple on his own. It was even easier with Lance and his long range weapon. “Initiate level four training sequence,” Keith called.

Four different robots rose from the floor and started for them. “Oh, quiznak,” Lance muttered. In the time it took him to take out the one farthest away, Keith had unarmed the one closest, and used it to lift himself and kick it back enough. Lance shot it mid-air and Keith ran his sword through the last one. “Sweet,” Lance said, perking up. “Next level, next level!”

Keith rolled his eyes, but smiled. He continued to the next level, which took longer but was just as simple. It wasn’t until they reached level nine that they both seemed to get their challenge. Keith’s arm was extended, his sword menacing the faceless droids. Lance had his focus completely on his energy blaster, one eye closed the other zeroed in on a target.

“Watch your left,” Keith called as he lunged forward, wiping a droid legs out from under it. He stepped back right as another druid brought down a sword, where he’d been standing. A blue blast shot it back and Keith looked at Lance.

“Got your back, baby,” he smirked. Keith smiled and returned to the fighting.

It felt like he knew Lance’s next move as his own. They moved like it was a choreographed dance, a murderous, lethal dance as each robot fell. Keith found himself managing backflips before Lance shot his weapon for a final blow, and they finished back to back as each robot remained demolished.

Just as Keith was about to call for the next level, they heard a whistle. “Whoa. You guys were… awesome,” Hunk said. They turned, surprised to see the other paladins near the entrance. “Shiro heard fighting and then we all sort of-” He moved his hands in a grouping gesture. “Flocked. You guys… were awesome.”

“You already said that, big guy,” Lance said with a cocky smile. “But thanks. Just to show why I’m the sharpshooter of the group.” He stretched and tilted his head. “We training as a group or something?”

“We weren’t planning to. Like Hunk said, I heard fighting, and I found you guys. You seemed too concentrated for me to step in,” Shiro said.

“Well, good call, because I need a break,” Lance huffed, dropping to the floor. “I’m all sweaty and gross.”

“Boo-hoo, princess,” Keith said with a roll of his eyes. “End training sequence.” He sat beside Lance and looked over at the others. “I haven’t gotten past level nine before. So this was pretty fun.”

“I’m glad to see you two are working together more,” Shiro said, giving Keith a proud smile.

Keith managed a small one back. Then Hunk yelped, “Lance what happened to you?”

Keith looked over where Lance had taken off his shirt and flopped onto his stomach. His back was covered in long, bright red welts that rose like ridges along his back. “Keith!” Pidge yelled.

“What are you yelling at me for? I didn’t do that!” he shouted back. “Lance what happened?”

Lance sat up and grabbed his shirt, but he wasn’t putting it on. “Nothing I just woke up like that, I'm fine.”

“You don't just wake up with scratch marks, Lance,” Hunk said.

Shiro turned him around and the Paladins grimaced. “They're not scratch marks. They're claw marks.”

“Those weren't there- uh, before. Were they?” Keith asked. He'd touched Lance all over last night and he hadn't felt anything but an expanse of smooth, warm skin. There had been no blemishes or scrapes. He was soft. He was always soft.

Pidge cleared her throat and pushed her glasses up her nose. “Maybe I can inspect it a bit, figure out the cause. Come on, Lance.” Keith watched as he followed Pidge pulling his shirt back on.

“You guys don't think the castle is haunted again right?”

Keith and Shiro shared a look. “Don't be ridiculous, Hunk. The castle isn't haunted and it never was.” Hunk didn't look too comforted by Keith's words. Shiro shook his head and walked away. Keith followed and Hunk scampered after them.

The image of the marks on Lance's back were etched into his brain. What could have happened between last night and this morning for those to have appeared on him?

A few ticks later, Keith heard a knock on his door. “Yeah?” It slid open and Lance walked in, looking slightly guilty. “Did Pidge figure out?”

“She didn't need to. I know how I got them.” Keith frowned. “Dude. It was you. You did that.”

He shook his head, scoffing. “No way. Those are claw marks; I barely have any nails, much less claws.”

Lance gulped and stuffed his hands in his pocket. “I have to tell you something,” he said. “But just stay calm okay?” Keith crossed his arms and frowned. “Yesterday… well, last night when we… you know really got into it…. You sort of… changed.” He raised an eyebrow. “Like… when I had to slow you down.” His cheeks turned red as he spoke, obviously nervous.

“What do you mean changed?” he asked.

“Into… something with… claws. You know?” Keith stared at him, not wanting to believe what he was insinuating. “You're not fully human, you know?” He shook head and backed away, feeling his stomach drop. Lance noticed the change immediately, his expression falling as Keith started struggling to breathe. “Hey, no, no, no, no, look at me, Keith. It's okay, it's okay. Calm down, listen. It's okay, you're still you. You're still Keith, okay?”

“No. No. Get out. Go away, Lance.”

Lance cupped his face and pressed their foreheads together, shaking his. “Don't do this, baby. It doesn't matter.”

“What do you mean it doesn’t matter? I grew claws! Jesus what else happened to me?” he shouted. “Why didn't you tell me?”

“I didn't want you freaking out like you are now! So what you turned sort of Galra, I don't care.”

Keith shoved him back. “Are you that desperate for a fuck, Lance? Willing to stick your dick wherever you can?”

His lips parted and his eyebrows furrowed, like Keith had hurt his feelings. But he was the one turning into a half breed alien, and Lance was the one who kept it from him because Keith was in the middle of fucking him for the first time, and of course you didn't care what was fucking you so long as you got fucked. Lance was not the one that should be upset. He didn't have that right.

“Well, when you decide to stop being an asshole, we can talk about this,” Lance spat before turning away to leave.

Keith watched him leave and stared at his hands. He'd actually changed? How had he not noticed it? How could he not have felt it? Had he been so wrapped up in Lance, in sex, that he didn't even realize his body was changing?

Frustrated, he fell to his bed and pulled the covers over himself. They smelled like Lance. And sweat. And sex. It wasn't very pleasant, but Keith didn't want to get up and wash them or change them, so he tried to focus on the smell of Lance.

Being part Galra was one thing. And it had taken a long time to accept it. To not feel unwanted and disgusting. Now he was looking like one? With claws? What else? Yellow eyes, furry ears, purple skin, fangs? Would he stay that way one day? Why had he changed? Why with Lance, why at that moment?

He laid in the bed unable to sleep. It was too early anyway. Breakfast, talking with Lance, training. It couldn't have lasted more than a few hours. Time was more difficult in space.

**

“Did you talk to him?” Pidge asked as Lance flopped onto the couch. “I'll take that as a yes. Did it go well?” Lance glared at her and she cleared her throat. “I'll take that as a no. What happened?”

“Exactly what I said would happen. He flipped out. That's why I didn't want to tell him!”

“He would've found out either way,” she reminded. Lance frowned and hung his head off the side of the couch. “What?”

“I think he thinks I'm using him.”

“Aren't you using each other?”

“Not like that,” he protested. He thought of the fear and betrayal in Keith's eyes when Lance told him. “He thinks the only reason I don't care about the Galra thing was because of what we were doing. He doesn't believe that I wouldn't care anyway.” She grimaced and leaned her cheek on her fist. “I'm sorry you're the only one I can talk to about this you're the only one who knows.”

“You could just tell the others. I doubt they'd really care.” Lance shook his head. “Give him time to cool down. You know him. It'll blow over.”

“Yeah,” he mused, looking at the ceiling.

**

Later that night, Keith only left his room to eat dinner and left as soon as he was done to go to bed. He tossed and turned unable to sleep. He thought it might be the smell, so he dumped the covers in the closet and pulled his jacket over himself instead. But even so, he couldn't bring himself to fall asleep. Something felt wrong. Off.

He didn't feel overheated or anxious like Lance had before. It wasn't that kind of uneasiness. It was different it was… sadder. Like he'd forgotten something he just didn't know what.

He wasn't sure how long he'd been tossing around, but once the frustration made him stand, he realized Lance hadn't stopped by his room. Was he giving him space? Keith could barely remember what he'd told him. Lance was a patient person, but even he had to have a breaking point and Keith must have reached it for him.

Thinking about Lance made Keith feel worse. Guilty and jittery. He wanted to see him. Wanted to know why he hadn't said anything, why Keith couldn't remember a single instance of disgust on his face, only soft and desperate kisses and touches.

And he wanted to know why he never came back.

He stepped out of his room and walked over to Lance's, hesitating, walking back and forth trying to swallow his pride. Then finally he knocked. There was no answer. It occurred to Keith that maybe, just maybe, it was the middle of the night and he was asleep. Still, he tried one more time, knocking a little harder. “Lance?” he called. His voice echoed in the hall. He wondered if he would even hear it if the walls were soundproof.

Just as he decided he should walk away, the door swished open and Lance tilted his head, his eyebrows furrowed. He wasn't smiling. “Yeah?”

Keith crossed his arms and kept his face passive. “You never apologized for keeping it a secret.”

Lance stared at him for a few seconds before shutting his eyes. “Are you kidding me right now? You say the things you said, lock yourself away like some damsel in distress all day, ignore me, and that's the first thing you say?” He opened his eyes and clenched his jaw. “Goodnight, Keith.”

“No, wait,” he growled, putting his hand on the door. “You didn't come back. That's… my point. You left and you didn't try talking to me again.”

“I told you, when you were ready to talk we would.” He leaned against the doorframe, staring at Keith with icy eyes. “Besides. I wanted you to see that you're not some meat stick. Or something to just put my dick in. I was planning on not going to your room at all until you realized that I really don't care about this Galra thing.”

“Why? Why don't you?”

Lance frowned and shook his head. “It's late Keith. We can talk tomorrow.”

He began shutting the door again, and again Keith put his hand against it, forcing it to slide back open. “Stop closing this thing on me!” he snapped. Lance's eyes widened and Keith averted his gaze. “I… I can't sleep. I feel weird I feel… sort of sad, but not. It's not sexual, I know that. It's just… I think you're the only one who can help.”

“What are you talking about?” Keith shrugged, not really knowing what he wanted or what he was asking for.

“I just-I.” He groaned and let himself fall forward, thumping against Lance's chest. He gripped his shirt lightly in his hands, his forehead dipped into the crook of his shoulder. Then Lance put his arms around him and Keith relaxed a little more.

“Oh. You're lonely.” Keith grumbled incoherently causing Lance to laugh. “It's okay, Keith. Craving affection is fine, isn't that something close to what you said when I had my problem?” Keith shrugged. “Come on,” he murmured.

He pulled him into the room and tugged him against his chest, tilting so Keith was at his mercy when it came to falling against the bed. His long arms were wrapped tight around Keith, warm and comforting. Like the hugs.

After a few moments of silence, Keith murmured, “You really don't care?”

Lance shifted behind him, his hand running up his arm and back down. “I don't. Why don't you believe me?” Keith shrugged. Lance nudged him and pulled him around so they were face to face. “So your skin changes color and you get claws. Honestly the scratching was kind of hot.” Keith rolled his eyes and when he focused on Lance again, that dorky, wide smile was back. “It doesn't mean you're not still my Keith.” His lips parted and he stared at Lance. My Keith. “The very same Keith who's my friend, my rival, who bickers with me and pretends to hate my jokes and makes me shiver just by running a hand down my chest. Purple or not, it's still you, Keith.”

Keith furrowed his eyebrows and leaned forward brushing their noses together.

“Oh are we doing your method of comfort now?” Lance teased. Keith scowled and shoved him away, turning so his back was to him. “Aw, no, no, no, I was kidding come on,” he laughed. “Turn back around, come on.”

“Goodnight.”

“Ke-eith,” he whined. “Come on, baby. You know you want to.” He leaned into his ear and started singing, “You want to hu-ug me, you want to ki-iss me, you think I'm se-xy.” Keith burst into laughter and turned to face him. “Kiss me,” he sing-songed.

“No,” Keith yawned. Lance grunted and Keith shook his head. “I'm not kissing you, I'm tir-”

Suddenly a pair of warm lips pressed against his, Lance's tongue darted out against his lips and Keith didn't bother fighting it. He kissed him back and pressed against him. Slowly, Keith shifted over him, never letting their lips part. Lance’s fingers thread through his hair, pulling him in closer, his mouth working expertly against Keith’s. He only hoped Lance’s enjoyed the kisses as much as he did. Keith bit down on his lower lip and pulled back slightly, keeping Lance’s plump, swollen lip between his teeth.

“My way is better,” he whispered, letting go of his lip. Lance’s hands moved up and down his sides lightly. His eyes were bright, mischievous, and playful. Keith licked his lips and frowned as he looked at Lance. “I’m… sorry for what I said. I didn’t mean it.”

Lance’s smiled faded and he leaned up, pressing his lips to Keith’s softly. “I know,” he whispered. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you.”

“When did you notice it?” he asked, falling to his side. “How much did I change?”

Lance caressed his face. “You had purple here,” he murmured as he ran his fingers lightly across his cheeks and down his throat. “All the way here,” he continued, slipping his hand under the fabric of his shirt to stroke his shoulder. He leaned forward, planting warm kisses against Keith. “The claws. Your ears were a little pointy. That’s all. I noticed it when we first… went all the way. And it gradually increased as we went. It went away when you fell asleep.” His hand cupped his cheek again. “But I was focused on your eyes. Your eyes never changed.” Keith bit his lip and leaned into him.

He shut his eyes as Lance held him close. Keith’s hands went to the nape of his neck to play with the hair there, lulling himself to sleep while twirling Lance’s hair around his forefinger.

When Keith woke up, it took him a moment to remember he wasn’t in his room. He looked over and found Lance beside him, face smothered into the pillow, hands stuffed comfortably beneath it. His mouth was open, his long lashes fanning out. He looked small. Like a little kid. Keith could almost imagine Lance when he was ten or so. He looked peaceful. Suddenly, it hit Keith that he’d spent the night with Lance.

He jerked up in the bed, snatching the covers away from Lance rapidly. Lance grumbled and opened his eyes tiredly. “Wha-happen?” he mumbled.

“I… I think I spent the night. I… I can’t tell what time it is, but-”

“So?” Lance yawned.

“It was a rule!” he protested. Lance shrugged. “Lance, come on.”

“Keith, technically we didn’t do anything, so I don’t think it counts. Look everyone’s still asleep, so you have two choices: either come back to bed or go back to your room. I won’t be upset, I understand. But I’m very sleepy.” He turned his head and shut his eyes.

Keith hesitated, watching Lance breathe for a few seconds before walking over to him. He pulled the covers over him again and smiled at the sight of his sleeping form. He leaned forward, kissing his temple. “See you later, Sharpshooter,” he whispered. He stood and left the room, biting his lip as he walked back.

He and Lance were at a strange point. He wasn’t sure what that point was, but he didn’t mind not knowing.

Click Here for the next chapter

[sasha-whos-askin-racket]

Jecker + 102

102. “I had a nightmare about you and just wanted to make sure you’re okay.”

(Everyone always picks Jecker, and it’s nice because JECKER, but can I also get some other ship requests? I do Jess/Emily and stuff, not just the canon pairings. Thank you in advance, and I hope this lives up to your expectations.)

The phone buzzed.It buzzed and it buzzed and it buzzed and then the person it belonged to lifted their head off the pillow and grabbed it.They pulled it across their chest as it gave a last pathetic vibrate and then went still.Squinting irritably at the bright screen, Becker was unable to make out the small chocolate bar emoji where Jess’s contact name should have been.

He rung whoever it was back and then checked the time on his bedside clock.“It’s 2 in the morning, I swear to God if this is you Temple I will-”He was cut off by the quiet sound of sobbing, and then a throat clearing.“Jess?” His voice, which had been previously annoyed, was now drawn tight with concern, “Are you alright?”When she didn’t respond aside from a whimper and a half-hearted cough, he sighed. “Jess, I’m coming over. Unlock your door.”

He pulled the closest T-Shirt he had over his head, not caring it was the same one he’d been wearing for the past 3 days, and then spent 2 minutes wrestling with his pair of jogging bottoms.Stupid Therocaphilian making him take two weeks off work.Stupid Becker for going in alone.Stupid kids for wandering through a school.Stupid, stupid, stupid.He pulled on his old trainers and ran a hand through his bedraggled hair, cringing at the greasy texture.Ugh. He really ought to have a shower later.

Completely ignoring Matt’s warning not to drive, he pulled off the curb outside his house and practically bounced the damn vehicle down the road.He contemplating heading to a 24 hour supermarket and buying a bar of chocolate for her, and then remembered he had one in his glove box.

He arrived outside Jess’s apartment and was grateful it wasn’t one of those where the house owner had to buzz him in, because there was no way Jess would he doing that.He then realised how out of place and suspicious he must look here at midnight, dragging his right leg behind him, clutching a bar of chocolate.Oh well.He’d clear it up with the other residents in the morning.

Jess had apparently neglected to open her front door, as he had instructed, and after checking all of the horribly cliched places a person would hide a spare key, he reached the rather annoying conclusion that he would have to go and speak to another resident and see if they had one.

The first door he’d knocked on had refused to answer, and the second had done so, only to slam the door in his face.He turned away, and then noticed that there was an elderly couple watching him wearily from behind their half-open apartment door.He raised his free hand in acknowledgement, then crossed the hallway towards them.“Excuse me, I don’t suppose you have a spare key for that apartment over there?” He asked the old lady, giving her a tired smile.“Jessica’s? Yes, we do have an extra key, though do you mind if we ask why?” The old man responded, and there was something in his tone of voice that informed Becker that this particular couple were extremely protective of Jess, and that he should probably explain himself before he got the crap kicked out of him by a walking cane.

“She rung me, you see, and she um….” He swallowed thickly. “She sounded somewhat distressed, so I thought I’d come over.”The woman nodded knowledgeably. “I see. You’re the boyfriend…”He blushed. “Not exactly no. I’m a colleague of hers.”The man scrutinised him, and Becker shifted uncomfortably.“You’re too tall to be Connor, not Irish enough to be Matthew, and too military to be Lester. So I presume you’re Becker?” And there was almost pride in his voice.Becker nodded. “Yes sir.”The man smiled. “Ahh yes, Jessica often speaks very highly of you, although she neglected to mention how respectful you are. Very well, give him the key Joanne.”The key was handed too him, and the older gentleman lent forwards. “She’s a keeper, young man. You’ll never find a woman like her again.”His wife elbowed him sharply, and then beamed. “Give her our regards.”He nodded again, slightly at a loss for words. “Yes ma’am.”Then the door was closed in his face.

He backed away, giving a slightly bemused laugh, and then turned back to Jess’s apartment door.He slipped the key into the lock, opened the door slowly, lent over the threshold, called “Jess? I’m coming in,” then let the door close behind him.

The whole apartment was in darkness, and he reached out past the door-frame for the light-switch.He clicked on the light with a hiss at the noise it made, and then dropped his hand.Her apartment was nice, he realised.It was small and sweet and warm and Connor’s mess was scattered across the work-top because he and Abby hadn’t quite finished moving out yet.The door directly opposite him was ajar, and all logic told him it was Jess’s bedroom.The lights were off in there too and Becker sighed, before crossing the room in a few determined strides.

He pushed the door open and it creaked with a noise that sent goosebumps down his spine.He stretched out to switch on that light too, and found it was a lot dimmer than he had expected it to be.It washed the whole room in a vaguely orange glow, including the curled-up lump pressed into the furthest corner of the room that he assumed was supposed to be Jess.

Becker approached her nervously and crouched in front of her, gently placing his hand on the top of her head.“Jess?”She didn’t respond, only curled further into herself, and Becker shifted from a crouch to kneeling in front of her.He pulled her slight frame closer towards him, and then across into his arms.He stood carefully, keeping his balance as he crossed the room and sat down on the foot of her bed, Jess still gathered in his arms.

He shifted carefully so she was facing him, and then slid his fingers under her chin, lifting her head until she was looking at him.Her blue eyes were wide and brimming with tears, and her face was pale and drawn.He sighed sympathetically “What am I going to do with you, huh Jess?”She shrugged, the flannel of her patterned pyjamas brushing against Becker’s bare arm.She looked so child-like, staring up at him with this almost innocence, and he remembered with a sudden jolt that he was only 19.19.Why had they let a 19 year old do this job?Who the hell had decided that was a good idea?He’d have to bring that up with Lester later.“So, what’s wrong huh?”

She was still watching him, though he noticed her face flush slightly in the light, and she dropped her gaze to the floor, looking sheepish.She twisted her fingers together, and spoke in a quiet tone, her voice shaking.“I had a nightmare about you and just wanted to make sure you’re okay.”He took a breath, and felt his heart break a little bit. “Oh, Jess.” He whispered, in the way one might talk to a small child who told you they were scared of the monsters under their bed.“Come ‘ere.” He wrapped his arm around her shoulder, and tensed slightly as she burrowed herself into his side.

“Look at me,” he said softly and when she didn’t respond he ran his thumb down her cheek.“Look at me,” he repeated, and when she did, he smiled and offered her his hand.She took it, and he ran his thumb over her palm.“I’m here. I’m here and I’m alive and I’m safe and so are you and everything is fine and everything is going to be fine.”She looked, for the first time, into his eyes, and felt the warmth radiate from them like a campfire, she could practically feel the concern billowing off him in waves and he gave her hand a squeeze and smiled at her, and she smiled back.

“By the way,” he said suddenly, an un-Becker like mischievous look in his eyes. “You might want to convince that lovely sweet couple across the corridor that I’m not your boyfriend. Although, they are clearly fond of you, and that gentleman seemed to be impressed by me, so you might want to just let them believe.”Jess shrugged, never blinking her wide eyes once, and again Becker felt like his brain had turned to mush and was slowly melting out of his ears.“But you ever make me get up at 2am again, I shall kill you.”She giggled, and it was such a Jessica Parker sound that Becker couldn’t help but grin too. “I’m just glad I’m not alone.”“Me too Jess. Me too.”

“Can I have another hug?”Becker laughed shakily, and then drew her back onto his lap, nuzzling his face into her hair and wrapping his arms around her body protectively.“Sure…”

[gothchic6]

Silver’s Skater Girl Chapter 9: Secrets Revealed and A Third Ally?

Yay, disclaimer!

JC: gothchic6 chose me to do the disclaimer this chapter, yay! Now, gothchic6 doesn't own Pokémon!

***

Chapter 9: Secrets Revealed and A Third Ally?

I approach the Pokégear cautiously, as I don't recognize the number that's calling me. But, despite the danger, I receive a weird feeling that tells me that I should answer the phone.

"Hello", I say quietly, so the person on the other line has less of a chance to recognize my speech patterns.

"Calypso", an equally quiet voice asks, and I can hear a distinct gravelly tone to the woman's voice that almost sounds familiar. The fact that she knows my name rings alarm bells in my mind.

"How do you know my name", I ask harshly and slowly, my tone warning the woman that I mean serious business.

"I've known you since you were born, Calypso. I don't know if you remember me, but I sure as hell remember you. Even though you were a little kid the last time I saw you, I can tell by the tone of your voice that you haven't changed at all. You've got your mother's sharpness of voice, you know", the mysterious woman relays to me.

"How do you know my mother", I growl threateningly, my tone alarming even Silver, who has been listening to my conversation from the bed. He goes to get up, but I motion for him to sit back down, as I don't need his crap right now.

The woman answers vaguely, "I know everything about you, Calypso. I know about your parents, I know about your insane grandmother, and I know about your escape."

The expression on my face changes from a suspicious scowl to an irate snarl in seconds. I can hear the threat in my voice as I respond slowly,

"Who. The. Hell. Are. You?"

The woman on the other line laughs, startling me completely out of my angry mood.

"Damn, Calypso, you've sure got one hell of a temper! You got that from your mom, too. Yeah, I'd tell you who I am if I knew that this phone line had no chance of being tracked. It's probably not, but I always like to be sure, you know? Anyway, I know you're on your Pokémon journey, like any kid your age should be. When you get to Ecruteak City, go to the Dance Studio. Go to the manager, and ask him for "Platinum". He'll immediately know what you're talking about, and he'll lead you back to the owner's office. I'll seen you then."

Suddenly, the raspy voice, mysteriously vague answers, references to my life, and the location she told me all make sense.

"Wait, don't hang up—", I say hastily, but I am too late, as I hear the phone on the other line click.

"Dammit! Of all things I have to deal with, and now there's this crap", I curse aloud.

"What the hell was that about", Silver asks from across the room.

I cross my arms across my chest. "None of your damn business, Ginger Head Man", I mutter deeply.

He just grunts as usual, and goes back to his drawings.

I sigh as I take a look at the room again. I'm sure that I know whom the woman is, but I don't want to get my hopes up by saying her name. So, I force my mind to focus on something else besides her. I look at the clock, which reads 10:15. Arceus, this place is so boring when you're waiting for something to happen. I look up towards the ceiling, and I notice the barely noticeable security camera in the corner of the room. Suddenly, a horrible thought comes to mind.

"Hey, Ginger Head Man", I ask Silver quietly, and purposely not using his real name.

He looks over at me irritatedly, and his face says, 'What do you want?!'

Despite his reaction, I continue on, "Are you sure that the security cameras don't have audio recording? Because if they do, you, me, and JC are screwed."

He makes an exasperated noise. "Of course they don't, idiot. It's illegal for the police to put audio recorders in public places. The only thing that camera can do is watch our actions. Arceus, you say you have common sense, but yet, you don't even know the basics of thievery and law."

I cross my arms across my chest again, and I reply irately, "Well, excuse me if I haven't had the experience that you've had! Unlike you, I haven't had opportunities to learn about those kinds of things, seeing as I've been locked up in a house for about 75% of my life! I am lucky just to be out in the world right now. It was from my own knowledge that I escaped! So you shut your damn mouth about me, and don't talk about things unless you know the while story, asswipe."

His eyes widen in surprise at my outburst, but he quickly recovers, and once again, goes back to his drawings.

To relieve my boredom, I let out Forest, who has since awoken from his nap earlier.

"Hey, Forest, what's up?"

"Nothing much, just as bored as you are."

"You got any ideas on what to do for an hour and fifteen minutes?"

"Not really. Do you have any thing we can do?"

"No, that's why I asked you. Arceus, I wish there was some kind of game or something that we could play."

"Wait, I thought I saw a weird box in the nightstand drawer of our old room. It kind of looked like checkers. Maybe there's one in this room…?"

"We could check."

"Here, I'll look."

Forest jumps off of my shoulders, and walks over to the bed. To my surprise, he uses Silver's stomach as a launching pad to leap over to the nightstand, like a gymnastic would use a trampoline.

The "oof" noise that Silver makes after Forest jumps on him is the most priceless thing ever. I begin to laugh, and the laughter is so powerful that my stomach starts to hurt.

Silver growls, and says menacingly, "Keep your damn Pokémon on a leash, will you?"

"Nah, I don't think I will", I say as Forest opens the nightstand drawer, and pulls out what is indeed, a game of checkers. He drags it over to where I'm sitting on the floor, and opens the box. Then, to my surprise, he starts setting up the board and the game pieces in the correct stance.

"Hey, Forest, how do you know how to do human stuff like playing checkers? I caught you wild, didn't I?"

"Well, actually, I have had a trainer before you. But that was a long time ago…"

"What happened?"

"I guess since you're my trainer now, I should tell you…"

"You don't have to, but you can if you want to. I don't care. Well, I do care, but—well, you know what I mean."

"Yes, I understand. My former trainer, Quinn, was obsessed with intelligence and power. He was all right when you got to know him, but he was a little… power hungry, you could call it. He just had to win every fight, and he just had to do everything correctly or he would have a nervous breakdown."

"Is he the one who taught you checkers?"

"Yes. He thought that by treating and training Pokémon to learn things that humans do would broaden our horizons, and make us more formidable in battles. It worked, but he was never satisfied. Eventually it escalated to the point where we would win battles, but he would still yell at us for things like not having the correct stance or not putting enough power into our attacks. He was crazy."

"Aw, I'm sorry. What happened after that?"

"Well, he became so obsessed with it that he decided that his current Pokémon weren't good enough to cut it at the Pokémon League. He wanted to raise an entire team from eggs, and from the moment those Pokémon were born, raise them as he had raised us. I don't know if he ever accomplished that goal, but what I do know is that one evening, he took four of his other Pokémon and I out to Route 32, and he released us from our Poké Balls. Without saying a single word, he put the Poké Balls on the ground, and smashed them with his feet. Then, he walked away like nothing had ever happened."

"Man, that must have been horrible! I've dealt with some messed up shit, but I've never faced true rejection before. Sorry that happened to you."

"It's all right. You're a good trainer, so I'm in good hands. Now, I'll let you go first since I know you're going to lose.

"Hey! I am not going to lose! I'll have you know that I played checkers with Gran when I was a kid, and I won about 90% of the time! I'm gonna crush you!"

"We'll see. Ladies first."

So Forest and I play checkers for about 40 minutes, and to my dismay, he won 2 out of the 3 games we played!

"Ugh, how did you do that", I complain, while grumpily grabbing the checker pieces and throwing them back into their box.

"I told you that you would probably lose. You underestimated me."

"Okay, maybe I did, but that doesn't mean I like it."

"… Sigh…"

I hear snickering from the bed, and I know it's Silver probably laughing at me.

"What are you giggling about, Ginger Head Man", I question crankily.

He smirks at my obvious crankiness, and replies, "Well, nothing besides the fact that a Pokémon beat you at checkers. I mean, how dense do you have to be to lose not one, but two games of checkers against a Pokémon?"

My eyes narrow as I glare at him. "For your information, Forest's former trainer taught him to be a super Pokémon genius. He's probably smarter than you and all of your Pokémon combined! And besides, I'm a little rusty since the last time I played checkers before this was seven years ago. If you're so confident that you'd be better, then why don't you play three games of checkers with him? If you win two, I'll grudgingly lie to you, and tell you that you're a better Pokémon trainer. If you win all three, I won't annoy you until 11:30. But if you lose two, you have to admit that I'm the better trainer, and if you lose all three, you have to let me write GINGER HEAD MAN on your forehead, let me take a picture of it, and keep it there until after the whole police incident. Deal?"

Silver's face instantly turns stony, but I can almost see gears in his head processing this challenge. He thinks for a few seconds, and then replies,

"Deal. Move and let someone intelligent play, wimp. Alright, you stupid Bellsprout, let's see how good you really are…"

*Thirty Minutes Later*

I giggle happily as I pull out a Sharpie permanent marker. Then, I turn to Silver, who is still sulking over his losses. I smile insanely as I slowly walk towards him, marker in hand. His metal eyes glare at both the marker and I, and as I walk nearer, he steps back.

"Come on, Silver. Do you want to do this the easy way or the hard way? A bet is a bet, and you lost all three games. I will write on your forehead even if I break a few bones in the process. Besides, JC told us not to leave this room until 11:30, so you have nowhere to run."

He glares at me for a few more seconds before sighing and slowly walking up to me. As I uncap the marker and start writing, I hear him muttering, "Stupid fucking Bellsprout. How the hell is a fucking Bellsprout able to not only play checkers, but beat a human at it three times in a row?"

With the last line of the message drawn, I step back to admire my work.

"Ah, what a masterpiece", I say airily as I stare at Silver's forehead in pride. Then, I ruffle his flaming hair, and exclaim rather mockingly, "Aww, you're such a good sport about it!"

He immediately steps back away from me, a mildly freaked out expression on his now flushed face.

"Don't touch me", he growls, as he slaps away my outstretched hand.

"Humph, how rude for a guy who just got his ass whooped in checkers three times in a row by a Bellsprout. Fine, but I still need to take a picture of this moment. It'll stay in my photo album forever", I say the last sentence cheerfully, as I take out Gran's stolen camera, and quickly snap a picture with it.

I then look at the clock, and notice the time: 11:25!

"Silver", I say seriously. The mention of his real name quickly catches his attention. I point to the clock, and he nods in agreement.

"We have to destroy the security cameras. Come on, help me dismantle them", Silver says as he starts reaching up to grab a camera.

"Dismantle them? What are you talking about? We have to completely destroy them, Ginger Head Man! We need to make sure that the security footage is completely destroyed, as well", I reason.

"How can we possibly destroy those security cameras without dismantling them? I don't know if you have some kind of acid gun or something, but if you do, you can use it", Silver argues.

"I don't have an acid gun, you dunce, but what I do have is a living, breathing, flamethrower", I explain smartly.

"Wha—Oh, yeah", Silver says as I let Cyndi out of her Poké Ball. I then recall Forest into his Poké Ball, fearing that he might get hurt from the fire.

"Are you two still here? It's really dark outside; Shouldn't you guys be outside in the trees right now", Cyndi asks.

"Yeah, we're working on that. We need your help."

"What for?"

"We need to destroy these security cameras."

"Destroy the entire camera, and make sure the footage is destroyed?"

"Yep."

"Not a problem. Stand back, both of you."

"Stand back", I say to Silver, who hastily does so.

"Quillll", Cyndi says as the flames on her back rise, and a ball of fire grows near her mouth.

"Lavaaa!" Cyndi shoots the fireball at the security cameras, which quickly melt due to the high level of plastic they're made with.

"Nice job, Cyndi, return", I say as I return Cyndi to her Poké Ball.

"Okay, now we need to make a fake trail. Come on, Ginger Head Man", I say as I open the window, and jump out of it. Unfortunately, I land on some leaves, which make a crunching sound underneath my combat boots. Silver swiftly jumps after me, and doesn't land on anything but solid ground.

"Can't you go a few minutes without making any sound", he asks snidely, referring to my landing.

"Unfortunately not, no. I'm dead clumsy, did you hear me break that vase in the hotel room?"

Silver snarls in response, and takes hold of the bottom of my shirt. Pulling out his switchblade, he cuts off a small piece of the hem.

"What the fuck do you think you're doing", I demand, tearing my shirt out his hand. He doesn't respond, but he instead pulls a few of my hairs out.

"Ow! Arceus! Quit manhandling me, jackass—"

Then, to my surprise, he rips out a few of his hairs, too, and then, unleashes his Croconaw.

"Croconaw, use water gun on the ground", Silver says quietly. Croconaw does so, and then Silver returns him.

"What in the name of Arceus are you doing, Ginger Head Man", I ask crossly.

He sends me an annoyed look, and says, "Fake trail, moron. And quit making so much noise! You're going to reveal us!"

"Well, if you had told me what you were doing, maybe I wouldn't have freaked out!"

Silver doesn't directly reply, but I hear him mutter curses under his breath. What an ass.

He starts stringing the hair in tree branches, and he cuts my shirt piece into smaller pieces, and puts them in thorny bushes as we walk. We both also stepped in the mud, and walked towards where the fake trail will end, so it looks like we went up north on Route 32. Then, wiping off our shoes with the paper towels that I stole from Gran (I stole SO much stuff from Gran), we start climbing through the trees, until we are in a tree close to the Pokémon Center, but far enough away to avoid being seen by JP.

When I check my clock, it says 11:55. Suddenly, I get a call from JC.

"Are you guys in position", she asks quietly, "I can hear JP's motorcycle vrooming down the road."

"Yeah, we're in position. Let her come. We'll be ready for anything."

*JC's POV*

I turn off my Poké Gear just as JP walks through the front door. Not to my surprise, she has a plethora of police weapons with her, including but not limited to, her standard gun, a Taser, a stun gun, rope, and even a hunting knife.

"JP! What the heck are you doing with all of those weapons? Did you think this was gonna be a Quentin Tarantino film or something", I exclaim as she walks up to the counter.

JP gives me an annoyed look, and then poses in a stereotypical gun-shooting position.

"I just thought that this would be the perfect opportunity to test out some of my toys", JP says while positioning back into standing normally.

"Some toys", I say sarcastically, "But, seriously, tone it down. Don't shoot unless attacked, or you will be violating Officer Policy!"

JP just snorts unattractively, and replies, "What would you know about Officer Policy?"

"Well, seeing as I was going to be an Officer before I became a Nurse, I know plenty about it."

JP gasps, and says, "You do not! If you had been, you would have been in my year at Police Academy! You're a liar!"

My rose-colored eyes narrow. "And how do you know that I'd be in your year? Actually, I'm a few years ahead of you!"

JP rolls her cobalt eyes. "Oh, please! Don't give me that crap! You're obviously only seventeen! You're younger than I am! Haha, rookie."

I blink at her blatant stupidity, and I start laughing.

"What are you laughing at?" JP screeches.

"You! I'm twenty-one, you idiot! I am most certainly older and more qualified at both of our jobs than you are." I cry with laughter.

She glares, and says, "You are not! Just look at you!"

I cross my arms, and reply, "Oh, yeah? What's wrong with me?"

She laughs mockingly, "Well, look! You have the body of a twelve year old! You've got nothing!"

Irritated by her ridiculing me, I pull out my Johto Service Card, and hand it to her.

"See this? It's my Johto Service Card."

She rolls her eyes again, and says, "Yeah, what about it?"

"Look at the birthday."

She does, and her face pales.

"Believe me now?" I ask seriously.

"Humph, just because you are twenty-one doesn't mean that you served as an Officer like you said", JP says snottily.

"Look at the back of the card."

She looks, and she goes so ghostly white, that I think she's going to pass out.

"JP? Are you okay?" She doesn't answer, but just keeps staring at my Service Card.

Scared that she might faint, I walk over to her, and say loudly, "Officer Jenny Paige from the Violet City unit of the Johto Police Department, are you ready and able to serve?!"

And with that, she jumps right up, and says, while saluting, "Sir, yes, sir!"

And with that, she breaks into tears. I rush over to her, and gather her in my arms.

"I remember you! You were in the same year as my sister, Jenny Charlotte! You were the best in her year, and she was a slacker! She barely passed, and you passed with flying colors! I idolized you, and when you left the Force to become a Nurse, it broke my heart, because I was looking forward to working with you, and trying to become as good as you were! And when I found out that you were the Nurse who ran this Pokémon Center, I became so mad that I decided I would do everything in my power to make your life hell! I'm so sorry! I never meant it to escalate to this! I'm so sorry!" She cries hysterically.

I am quite shocked by this admission, but I do remember her sister.

I rub her back, and tell her to quiet down. She does.

"Now let me tell you something, hon…"

*Calypso's POV*

"What the hell do you think is happening inside of there", I ask Silver, who has been spending his time carving a tree branch into what is starting to look like a totem pole.

"That Officer Jenny is probably talking JC's head off", Silver says nonchalantly.

"Yeah, that sounds about right, Ginger Head Man", I say, with a taunting tone to my voice.

Silver lets out a faint growl, but doesn't say anything in response.

"Arceus, what is taking so long? I almost want to call her to find out."

"Don't", Silver says suddenly, "If you do, you could just ruin everything, and get us arrested. If you do, I will escape, find your cell, and strangle you."

"Haha, nice try, Ginger Head Man, but I'd have already escaped. You'd have to search all over the world to find me before you could strangle me."

Silver once again gives me the silent treatment, but I don't mind. At least for a few minutes…

"Ugh, Silver, I cant take this anymore! I hate waiting! Can I call her already?"

"NO!"

*JC's POV*

By this time, JP has finally calmed down. We're leaning side by side against the counter, and I say,

"Let me tell you something, hon."

JP looks at me, her cobalt eyes still shimmering with tears. She has the most pathetic expression on her face, and I can't help but feel guilty for laying onto her. She doesn't answer me, so I continue on,

"I did know your sister. Jenny Charlotte, right? Yeah. I definitely remember her. Sure, while your sister wasn't the best person ambitiously or academically, she was one of the sweetest people I've ever known. Whenever I was down, she'd help me back up. She came straight from Arceus, himself. I'm flattered that you would use me as a role model, but don't completely rule out your sister, either. Be alert and book-smart like me, but have her kindness and compassion. It's not like I don't have those traits either, but it's so pronounced in Char. She always liked to listen to peoples' problems, and try to offer solutions that usually worked. If you just keep improving yourself not only to be the most disciplined and attentive Officer, but also the most compassionate and understanding one as well, you'll go far. I promise you."

At these words, JP bursts into tears again. I rub her back, and whisper comforting words to her, but she just shakes her head at me.

"I'm not sad or angry. These are tears of joy. To be told by the person I've always admired that I can go far in life is the most priceless thing to me. Thank you for understanding why I did the things I did, and not hating me for it. You are truly someone to look up to", JP cries. I'm about to respond, when she fully embraces me. Shocked by this contact, I go silent.

"Thank you so much. I'm so sorry. I promise that I will do my best in the Force, and become the best Officer I can be", she whispers.

"It's all in the past, Jenny Paige, it's all in the past. Now, since you are an Officer, would you like to go arrest those criminals in that room with me", I ask her cheerfully.

She instantly perks up, and says, "Yeah!" But then, her expression changes from one of happiness to one of deep thought.

"Hey, can I see those wanted posters again?" She requests. I nod, and hand them over to her. She takes a few minutes to look over them, and before I know what's happening, she says…

*Calypso's POV*

"Arceus, Ginger Head Man, what the heck is going on in there? It's already 12:20, and we haven't heard anything. Not even a single peep of activity", I exclaim tiredly as my butt starts to hurt from sitting in this tree for so long.

Silver doesn't look away from his Pokémon totem pole, but says casually, "You know, patience is a virtue."

I snort, and respond, "Ha, what would you know about virtue?"

Silver continues carving the wings of the Zubat totem, but says in response,

"More than you, Miss Grand Larceny and Destruction of Property."

My amethyst eyes narrow, and I reply heatedly, "There was a perfectly good reason that I did those things."

Silver rolls his eyes. "Oh, I bet there was", says Silver sarcastically.

"Oh shut up, Ginger Head Man", I grumble as I check my Pokégear again. Ugh, 12:25.

*JC's POV*

"Hey, can I see those wanted posters again?" JC requests. I nod, and hand them over to her. She takes a few minutes to look over them, and before I know what's happening, she says,

"You know, these people on the wanted posters probably had a good reason to do what they did… JC, do you know anything more about these people than on the posters?" JP asks me questioningly.

I sweat a little, because I'm a notoriously horrible liar when asked a direct question. Everyone in the Service Department knows it.

"Umm… Not really…"

JP crosses her arms, and stares at me intently. "Come on, JC. I tell that you're lying. Come on, tell me the truth. I don't bite."

I grab her arm, and pull her into my quarters before shutting and locking the door.

"Look, this is a serious secret. If anyone tells the Police Department, I could not only lose my job and Service Card, but I could be put into jail. So before I tell you anything really important or controversial, you have to swear to me that you won't tell anyone, and that you aren't recording this or anything like that", I say quietly.

JP gasps, and says, "So you are helping them!"

I sigh, and respond, "First swear to me that this doesn't get out to anyone."

JP looks at me for a second or two, and then nods. "Even though you've done some bad things in your lifetime, JC, I bet you had a good reason for doing them, unlike me. If I criticized you for this, then I would be a total hypocrite. I mean, I'm supposed to be patrolling Violet City, but instead, I spend my precious Officer time making your life hell. Yeah, I swear that nothing you say to me will ever be mentioned to another person, unless you ask for it to be. I promise you that much."

I smile gratefully, and reply, "Thank you so much, JP. Now, do you want me to tell you the whole thing?"

The younger girl nods, so I continue on.

"Okay, so those two criminals and the wanted posters. I'm friends with the one named Calypso. I didn't know she was wanted until you showed me the poster a few hours ago. The reason we became friends was because she helped me get revenge on a particularly nasty client. I was subbing for Jojo at the Cherrygrove Pokémon Center. Then this creature came in… her name was Monica—"

JP interrupts me. "Hey, there was a girl named Monica who logged in a Theft report yesterday. She was a nightmare. Did your Monica have obviously dyed beach blonde hair, breast implants, extremely short short-shorts, a makeup plastered face, and an extremely nasally voice?"

I start laughing so hard that I almost fall over. "Yeah, that's exactly her."

"Yeah, her name is Monica Blodvek. She's nineteen years old, and she got her Misdreavus stolen."

I nod, and reply, "Monica had been with a group of her four friends, who were severely loud and annoying. They were also cursing very loudly. They were so loud that they woke up the entire room of baby Pokémon, and got complaints from a lot of guests. It was a disaster."

JP stares at me, an expression of blatant disbelief on her face. "Why didn't you just call an Officer to assist you? What you're describing could easily be classified as Harassment and Disturbing the Peace charges."

"Well", I start to explain, "The man that owns the Cherrygrove Center is a very greedy and selfish man. He will do anything to keep customers, even if that means he has to bend the rules for them. That's what he did in the case of Monica. So she and her friends were being obnoxious, and I was telling them to keep quiet. But they didn't listen. One of them even told me to fuck off. Of course, I wasn't about to take that, and I was going to kick them out. But, Mister-Big-Pokémon-Center-Owner stepped in. Monica became a crying mess, claiming that I had yelled at her, and some ridiculous stuff like that. So, he made her inn fee free, and her gave her a gift card to the local restaurant. There was no way I could win."

"That sucks. I'm sorry you had to deal with that. How'd Calypso play into this", JP asks me.

"Well, Calypso had wanted a room for the night. Unfortunately, the only option she had was to share with someone. I really didn't want to put her with Monica, but there weren't any other rooms available. Before she had booked the room, Calypso had done me a favor by telling me that my skirt was too short, and that it exposed my underwear, so I was already grateful to her", I tell her.

"I don't know much about Calypso, so I cant really guess how she probably reacted. How did she react", JP asks in response.

"Oh, she was totally cool with it. I told her about how much of a nightmare Monica is, and what she did to me. Not only did she agree to share the room, but she pranked the heck out of Monica!"

JP laughs, and replies, "What did she do?"

"Well, she dyed Monica's hair blue by putting blue dye in her shampoo, and she painted hot sauce on the cinnamon gum that Monica had."

JP starts laughing hysterically, and when she finally stops, she responds with,

"Do you know what happened with Monica's Misdreavus, whose name was Jessica, apparently", JP inquires.

"Oh, you mean Dusk? Yeah, Calypso took her. Look, I don't agree with Pokémon theft, or theft of any kind, for that matter. But Calypso said that Dusk told her that Monica abuses her, which actually doesn't surprise me. When I saw Dusk leaving with Calypso, that Misdreavus looked so relieved to away from Monica. Calypso probably saved Dusk from what was probably a horrible life. That is what tells me that she isn't a heartless criminal", I end with.

"I guess that makes sense", JP says slowly while looking at Calypso's wanted poster again, "The poster says that Calypso is a runaway minor. Do you know anything about that?"

I shake my head, and respond, "No, I don't think she likes to talk about her past, or her family. The only person she's ever mentioned is someone named Gran."

JP thinks about this for a second. "Probably a grandmother. I don't know the exact details of Calypso's background, but I have a feeling that something surrounding her past is strange."

I nod my head in agreement. There is something weird about how Calypso never mentions her family.

"So, who's the other guy", JP asks me as she pulls out Silver's botched up wanted poster.

"Oh, him? Calypso gave the information for his poster, and she purposely messed it up, though I don't know why, because it seems like she completely hates the guy." I explain.

"Ah", JP says.

"Yeah, his real name is Silver, and his hair is longer and brighter in real life. His eyes are also lighter, and his shirt is shorter. He is also wanted for Theft."

"Interesting", JP mutters quietly. She goes into deep thought for a minute or two before asking,

"Are they really here in the Pokémon Center?"

I raise one eyebrow, and respond, "Depends on whether you plan on arresting them or not."

JP's eyes widen, and she says, "I can't believe I'm saying this, but no, I want to help them."