#while Nate is telling him not to take it past round two

[firebirdsdaughter]

Have I mentioned today…

… how much I love Nate and Eliot?

[broadstbroskis]

no better company than you | nathan mackinnon

a/n: alright, i’m rolling in late for @antoineroussel oussel summer exchange (thank you love, for running such a lovely exchange again, it was wonderful and i’m glad i was able to particiapte) and i’m very sorry for the lateness! i had the pleasure of writing for the lovely @ghstandpucks​ 💜 again, i am SO sorry about the wait but i hope you enjoy this! 

word count: 3.2k

-----

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry I’m late!” You slide into the booth and throw your bag down next to you, hoping to god you don’t look as frazzled as you feel; this restaurant is far too nice.

Nate just smiles at your words, too familiar with your family by now to know that you’re always running 5-10 minutes behind. He’s ordered a bottle of wine- a nice rosé, fitting for the beautiful end of summer day- and had already started pouring a matching glass for you the second you started sitting down. “How’d the interview go?”

You bite your lip. “Eh.” 

“I’m sure it went better than you think.” Nate says encouragingly. “You’re too hard on yourself. All three of you are.”

And well, that’s not a lie. Your siblings were just as critical of themselves as you were. Sid was famously known for it and Taylor, your twin, was as bad as you. But…

“Listen to you!” You laugh at him. Nate’s just as bad as the three of you. A mini-Sid in many ways, to many people in your hometown.

But that was in Canada. This was Denver. And here, Nate was cool. Laid-back. Lowkey. Everything a professional athlete should be. Nobody knew about what a dork he really was, except his teammates.

And now, maybe you too, if all went well with this job interview.

“Don’t know what you’re talking about.” Nate says, looking at his menu to feign ignorance.

You giggle, pulling your own up toward your face. “Sure, buddy.”

It’s not often that you and Nate spend time one on one like this, even if you see him all the time over the summer. He’s usually with your brother when you see him, politely trying to decline your mom’s invites to dinner or already hanging at Sid’s house when you invite yourself over to your brother’s house for pool or lake time. Usually time one on one with Nate like this is brief, usually like in passing while he’s waiting for Sid in the kitchen while you’re eating.

It’s nice. Nate’s funnier than people give him credit for and it’s easy to relax into dinner and conversation, to forget about the anxiety from your interview as you chat about what’s new for both of you and gossip about people you both know.

By the time he drops you off at your hotel, it’s late and you’re too tired (and maybe just on the right side of tipsy) to even worry about the interview. You just barely change into pajamas, run through your nightly routine, and climb into bed, before shutting the lights off. It feels like you’re asleep before your head even hits the pillow. 

In the morning, you’re awoken by the sound of your phone ringing, and it takes a second for you to place the sound, but when you do you pounce on it, recognizing the local area code immediately. “Good morning.” You say, trying your hardest not to sound like you woke up literally thirty seconds ago.

It’s human resources, from the job you interviewed for yesterday.

You got it.

-----

“Ew, no!” Your dad holds his hands up innocently, when you rush over to stop him from unpacking a box. “Why would you put that there?”

“Hey, sweetie, maybe it’s time for a break.” Your mom says gently, exchanging a look with your dad, who nods his agreement enthusiastically.

Which is fair. You’d just about almost taken his fingers off just because you didn’t like where he was unpacking colanders. 

“Dinner!’” Your dad latches onto immediately. “Nate offered to take us all out tonight, I’ll let him know we’re ready.”

“Ready?” You frown, looking down at your workout shorts and baggy t-shirt.

“We’ll be ready in an hour.” He amends, already texting Nate.

Nate knocks on the door to the new condo you’re renting an hour and fifteen minutes later, sheepishly grinning when your dad tells him that you and your mom still need a few minutes. “Thought I had my timing perfect.”

Your dad snorts. “Oh buddy. Keep dreaming.”

He’s not too off on his timing, but unfortunately for Nate, you don’t have too much else going for you in your condo yet. Your dad had gotten your TV all set up, but in addition to the TV and living room furniture, you haven’t gotten much else, and that includes food and beverages. So the two of them sit in mostly silence while they wait another few minutes for you and your mom to finish getting ready. 

“I told you that you should have just met us there.” You tell Nate, as he trips on a box on his way out the door.

“Oh, so this wasn’t deliberate sabotage?” He deadpans.

“You caught me. Just trying to keep you around the city full time until I have time to make better friends.”

Nate laughs, as the two of you follow your parents out the door. “Be nicer to me or I won’t introduce you to my friends.”

“Who said I want to be friends with your friends?”

“Children.” Your mom turns to look back at you and Nate smiles at her innocently, but it’s been a while since that’s fooled her. “Do we need to stay home?”

It serves to get the two of you moving, even as you laugh at her joke. Nate drives you to another one of his favorite restaurants, and dinner flies by, with Nate insisting on picking up the tab, even when your dad tries to fight him on it. 

It’s started to cool down a little by the time you’re walking back toward the car, Nate and your dad still fake-fighting about paying for dinner, and you find yourself not realizing you’re smiling at the two of them as you walk behind them until your mom bumps your shoulder. “A few hours off for dinner with some good company was just what you needed.” She says.

And even though the smile on her face seems too knowing, you’re too tired to ask about it right now, so you just nod in agreement. “Yeah, this was nice.” You smile back at her.

-----

Mel Landeskog pokes her head around the corner and you wave at her, trying to catch her attention. “Jesus Christ.” She shakes her head. “I didn’t think he was serious.”

“I mean.” You bite your lip. “I did have to work today.”

“I would have picked you up!” She shakes her head, muttering under her breath, and you know Nate’s going to get an earful from her later. “But no, no. That dumbass just let you come all the way over here by yourself. Sends me a text to come meet you by the door. All casual.”

“I mean.” You send her a look. “Did you expect anything different from Nate?”

It’s the way she looks at you and sets her face that almost has you nervous for Nate. You’ve known Mel for a long time now, but really, you don’t know her from more than just years of NHL events. “I do now.” She says.

You hope Nate knew what he was getting himself into sending Mel a text to come find you earlier.  

Once she leads you up into the box with some of the wives and kids, she’s back to smiling and laughing, making introductions all around. The mood all around is light and easy, everyone excited for the home opener of the season, and happy to be back with everyone again. 

It’s fun to be back in this atmosphere. Hockey’s been a part of your life for so long and there’s truly nothing like the energy of the first game of the season. You feed off the energy, catching up with some familiar faces and chatting with all the other girls, probably too excited when they invite you to a girl’s night later in the week, but it feels good to have plans that don’t involve trying to invite yourself to Nate’s when you’re bored.

“Hey, good job tonight.” You nudge him afterwards, catching up with him in the family room.

He laughs, pulling you in for a hug. “A little different than what you were used to?”

“It lived up to the hype, I guess.”

“I’ll turn you from a Pens fan.” Nate promises. 

It’s your turn to laugh. “Feel Sid’s wrath.”

“What’s he going to do? Check me into the boards? Bring it.”

Nate’s been hanging out with your brother and your family for years now, so he should really know better by now. “Okay, buddy.” You pat his shoulder patronizingly. “Sure.”

“I could take him.” Nate insists. 

“Throw hands. Next game. I dare you.” 

He side-eyes you, because you both know that’s not going to happen and it’s only a minute before you’re both laughing. 

“I better see you on Friday!” Ashley Kadri shouts out to you as she’s walking past with Naz and Naylah, interrupting your laughter. “No excuses!”

“I’ll be there!” You call back. “Promise!”

When you look back, Nate’s pouting-exaggerated, albeit, but pouting. “Are you ditching me this Friday?”

“Yup. Found better company.”

“How dare you?” He cries. “There is no better company.”

“Well.” You shrug. “I’ll know for sure after happy hour on Friday.”

“Find your own ride home.” Nate says and then he starts speed walking away from you at an absurd speed.

“Nate!” You protest, jogging to catch up and he finally slows down enough for you to catch up when you round the corner, bumping your shoulder right back when you purposely bump into him in retaliation.

-----

No one lets loose like a group of moms when they’ve got a night without their kids.

Someone has mentioned this to you before, at a bachelorette party or a wedding or something, but you don’t think you’ve ever seen it really in action before until this happy hour. 

“If the waitress comes back, order me another drink!” Kerry calls, before running off to the bathroom.

The waitress nods at her, before addressing the rest of you. “Another round?”

“Oh, please!” Mel nods quickly and repeatedly.

“Can we get a few more orders of mozzarella sticks too, please?” You look down at the empty plates in front of you. “And maybe some nachos too?”

“Yes!” Jackie lights up across from you. “Great call!”

It pretty much only goes downhill from there and by the end of the night, both Mel and Ashley are crying for reasons no one is sure of entirely and you’re pretty grateful to see Nate among the group of husbands and boyfriends to come to pick up all their girlfriends.

So grateful you scream his name the second you see him. “Nate!”

He winces, trying to pull his ear away from you, but he’s laughing. “Guess you had a good time, huh?”

“Uh huh!” You nod enthusiastically, not realizing how loud you are until he winces again.

Nate laughs. “Alright, I think it’s time to go home.”

You gasp loudly. “I can’t leave my new friends!”

“Your new friends are all leaving you!”

You frown, but look around and realize he’s right. Naz has already sneakily pulled Ashley out of the bar and Gabe and Erik were collecting Mel and Jackie’s things. “Oh.”

“Oh?” Nate parrots. “Come on, get your stuff, crazy girl.”

“Hey!” You protest, grabbing your purse. “I am the least crazy person in my family.”

“I hate to break it to you.” Nate says, as he guides you into standing. “But that’s not saying much.”

He’s right, but you bump him with your shoulder anyway as you walk past. That’s about sibling honor and shit.

Nate parked too far away and by the time you reach his car, you’re leaning on him, the adrenaline from hanging out with friends wearing off quickly. Nate’s nice about it, guiding you to his car and then helping you into his front seat before heading around to the driver’s side. 

“You guys had a fun time then?” Nate says, once he’s started driving and you’re half asleep leaning against the window. “Looks like it at least.”

“Yeah.” You nod sleepily. “But you were right.”

He chuckles. “About what?”

“There’s no better company than you.”

-----

Nate becomes pretty clingy after that night, texting and facetiming whenever he’s out of town, and stopping by pretty much anytime he’s got a free minute. It quickly becomes something you look forward to, missing his visits when he’s out of town and looking forward to his calls, smiling when his texts come in and breaking up your work day. And it isn’t long before you realize that you’re being just the same. Sending him messages before and after games. Inviting yourself over for dinner and making Nate cheat on his diet.

In a blessed move from the NHL scheduling department, Sid and the rest of the Pens are scheduled to arrive in town on a Friday morning and aren’t leaving until the end of the weekend. 

They have a practice scheduled for early afternoon, which is perfect for you to wrap up your work day before heading over to watch the end.

Geno lights up when he sees you watching from the glass, the first person to acknowledge you, and skating over in the middle of the drill, leaving behind two shocked linemates. “Mini!” He shouts cheerfully, even as you roll your eyes at your least favorite nickname. All because you happen to be the shortest of your siblings. “Great to see you.”

“You too, Geno.” You smile warmly at him, a little annoyed that you can’t get a giant bear hug from your favorite pseudo-older brother right away. “But I don’t think a few other people feel the same right now.” You jerk your chin back over his shoulder. 

He turns his head quickly but then looks back. “Psh. They’ll get over it.”

You bust out laughing, which is right about when your brother comes over, and in classic Sid fashion, is all about hockey. “Stop being a distraction.”

“I was minding my own business until Geno came over here!” You protest, even as Geno starts laughing and Sid eyes you skeptically. 

“Why don’t I believe that one?” Sid says dryly and sure, maybe you were making faces at some of the guys you knew well as they were passing you, but you weren’t actively being a distraction.

“That’s your prerogative.” You tell Sid, who shakes his head and pulls Geno back for the remainder of practice. 

Practice doesn’t last for too much longer and you spend a few minutes chatting with the coaching staff while you wait for Sid to change. But he and Geno finally come out of the locker room and you stop mid-sentence to throw yourself at your brother.

Sid’s laughing and so are you, but both of you start laughing even harder when Geno pulls you both into his arms. “Two of my favorite people!”

“Taylor’s going to be so offended.” Kris grins, watching the three of you amused.

“Taylor?” You grin back at him, going for a hug once Geno releases you. “How about his wife and kid?”

“Those are my other favorite people.” Geno reasons.

“Now I’m offended.” Kappy deadpans.

“You’re not even close.” Geno grins, roughing his hair.

Kappy tries to get him right back, but Geno just swats his hand away and then Sid’s shaking his head, like this is just the same shit, different day. “Look what you did.”

You grin, leaning against him. “Not sorry. I’ve missed this entertainment.”

Sid shakes his head. “Then you can round them up for dinner.”

You do. Easily.

Nate had suggested one of the team’s favorite restaurants and you’re happy to see that he’d accepted your invitation to join everyone, even if he rolls in a little late. You’re deep into Kris’ camera roll, looking at pictures of his kids and catching up on stories that you haven’t heard about them recently, so you don’t even notice he’s arrived and said hello already until he blows on the back of your neck.

You jump. “What the hell?”

Nate’s grinning. “Hey.”

You shake your head at him and bump your shoulders against him. “Hey.” You mimic and then turn right back to Kris.

But your shoulder stays leaning on Nate, and it remains there comfortably all night.

-----

Sid’s a little cranky when you first meet him for breakfast the morning after the game and you’re sure it has everything to do with the last minute turnover that cost them the game (and bragging rights over Nate this summer, which is really what he’s probably cranky about).

He gets over it pretty quickly though, and soon the two of you are laughing and talking, catching up about your family and your lives.

“-and I even love my office, the vibes are just great!”

Sid shakes his head. “Vibes.”

You grin. You know he hates that word. “Good vibes.” You confirm.

“So you’re liking Denver?”

“Love it.” You confirm, smiling.

“Meeting good people?”

You eye him skeptically. “Yes dad. I already said my coworkers are great and I’ve been hanging out with Nate and his friends a lot too. It’s good”

“Geno thinks there’s something going on between you and Nate.” Sid says casually.

The jump of your heart is far from casual. “Oh yeah?”

Sid eyes you but his response to that is surprising. “You know if there was something going on between you and Nate that would be okay?” He pauses, watching you again, but your face is completely neutral, purposely not moving. “Right?”

“You know if there was something going on between me and Nate that your opinion wouldn’t matter at all, right?”

He grins, laughing as he nods, but after he takes a bite of pancakes he says, “To you, yeah. To him, it does.”

“Why?” You blurt out, giving yourself away before you can stop yourself.

But Sid doesn’t say anything to that. He grins again and then changes the subject entirely.

-----

You only make it about a day before you’re knocking on Nate’s door, pretty forcefully.

“What’s up?” He swings the door open, with a frown. “You okay?”

“Does what my brother thinks really matter to you that much?” You blurt out. It’s been bothering you ever since Sid mentioned it at breakfast. That you lasted this long was probably a miracle.

Nate blushes and your jaw drops. “It-”

“Oh my god.” You grin delightedly. “Come on, really?”

“That’s not-” He blows out a frustrated sigh. “You’re really going to make me say it?”

You nod, but you’re pretty sure he’s not going to get far into what he’s going to say.

He sighs again. “It’s not about, like, his approval, or shit. It’s just- he’s important to you. So obviously he’s important to me-”

You kiss him. 

“You know that you don’t even have to worry about that, right?” At some point, you’d slid one hand to his hip and the other arm around his neck, and the hand there plays with the hair at the nape of his neck. 

“I’ll argue about that with you later.” Nate says impatiently and so you’re laughing when he kisses you again.

[manchot1988]

Hindsight (MacKinnon/Marner Fic)

Fic under the cut:

https://archiveofourown.org/works/39770649

Summary:  

 A phone call between Nate and Mitch during the Stanley Cup Playoffs 2022

Mitch’s phone was lighting up with a call notification from Nate. Mitch was dreading this call but knew that it was only a matter of time. It wasn’t the right time since it’s the morning of Game 3 of the Finals for Nate but let’s be honest, there was never going to be a right time for this. I mean, how do you even go about telling your sort of boyfriend that you were carjacked right after getting eliminated from the playoffs? Playoffs that his team is still in and made it all the way to the finals.

Mitch isn’t even sure what they are. They were friends but also potentially more? They had bonded while training last summer and had kept in contact during the season but it was hard for them with their schedules and the fact that they were in competing teams. Avs had come to Toronto to play back in December and they were supposed to meet up after the game but the Leafs beat them significantly with a 3-8 game that Nate didn’t want to meet with him or even call or text him for a while. That stung but Mitch understood and forgave him in the end when Nate started texting him again like nothing had happened after the Avs beat the Leafs in OT a month later.

They both got busy preparing for playoffs that the texting just stayed as texting with a hint of teasing. They both agreed to meet up again in the summer after playoffs for training and maybe more but realistically, Mitch knows that Nate might be busy in the long run if the Avs go all the way. Not that Mitch knows what that schedule is gonna look like, the Leafs hadn’t made it past Round 1 in a while.

It wasn't as if Mitch was ignoring Nate either - he had texted and sometimes called Nate after Nate's games. He's even done video review with Nate and threw in his two cents of the Avs games. He just never mentioned the carjacking or talked about the Leafs being eliminated. They both tapered off on the flirting/teasing once playoffs started to keep their heads in the game. Mitch didn’t feel like he could call and bug Nate about the carjacking or being eliminated since Nate was still in the fight. Not to mention, Mitch was still processing everything that happened. It wasn’t all straight in his head, still isn't if he's being honest, and he wasn’t about to unload that on Nate when Nate had other things to worry about.

Taking a deep breath, Mitch answers the call. “Hey Nate”

“Why didn’t you tell me you were carjacked?”, asks Nate. Mitch could hear the anger in his voice. Fuck, this wasn’t going to be good. Mitch sighs, “I know this sounds stupid but you had other things to worry about. I was physically fine in the end and the team took care of me..”

“So what, I don’t matter then?”, spits out Nate. “That’s not what I said, Nate. You matter to me, you know that! You’re in the finals. You should be focusing on that. My thing will keep for a while.. “, says Mitch.

Mitch continues, “I didn’t want to talk to anyone about it. I had to repeat it enough times for the cops then the management team at the Leafs right after. By the time I had a second to breathe, the team found out and it was another round of reliving the moment and I was just done. If I called you then, I would have fallen apart and that wasn’t fair to put on you then when you’re stuck in Colorado getting ready for Round 2. There was nothing you could have done at that moment..”

Nate’s heavy breathing is all Mitch hears for a moment, as if Nate was holding back everything he wanted to scream out at Mitch. “I could have been there for you, even just by checking in by text of phone calls, Mitch. I would have done something!”

“I know you would have but I didn't want you to. I wanted you to focus on training and the team.. I don’t want to be a distraction for you right now. I won't let that happen. Fuck, you should be getting ready for morning skate right now, you’re fucking playing tonight Nate!”, says Mitch

“That wasn’t you decision to make Mitch. I could have handled it; I can fucking multitask, alright. I can worry about your dumb ass and win games at the same time -” Mitch sobs on the phone. He tries to keep it in but it slipped past his control and fuck, Nate heard it. “Shit, baby, please don’t cry.. I’m sorry. Fuck, I’m fucking this up even more..”, says Nate on the phone.

Mitch shakes his head as if that would help clear it. “No, no. It’s ok. It’s not your fault, Nate. It was a scary situation. The timing sucked and I was barely keeping it together. I wanted to call you so badly but I also couldn’t make myself do that to you. I figured I was out of danger and it was over and I’d tell you eventually when you were free.. I was never gonna keep it from you, I was just trying to let you finish out the playoffs…”

“I wish I could be there. Fuck Mitch, I fucking miss you..”, admits Nate. “I know we said we’d talk in the summer and we will but I just need you to know that this isn’t a fling for me or anything like that. I want to see where this is going with you. I know where I want it to go and I’m gonna fucking do my best to get us there if you’re on the same page babe..”

“I am.. I know Nate. I’ve always known. Our timing just sucks but I need you to focus on the games first. I don’t plan on going anywhere and I’ll see you soon.. Just fucking win for me, ok? I promise, I’m ok. I’ll tell you everything later if that's what you want”, says Mitch.

“I’ll do my best, babe”, promises Nate, “but I need you to promise to take care of yourself too. And I’ll call you tonight. I know I’m not the best at this but I’m serious about you. I promise.”

“Tonight then. I’ll be watching..”, replies Mitch.

[dumdumsun]

And Dusk

A/N: Enjoy ❤️

Warnings: brief violence

Word Count: 1560

—————————————

Chapter 14: The Countdown

The walk from Elliott’s to Reginald’s took up enough of (Y/N)’s time. When she approached the door, she hastily wiped her tears before pushing the front door open. The house was wrapped up in its usual silence. It never really made noise unless she was home, after all. Rushing up to her room, she locked the door and set her puppy on the ground before changing her clothes. She avoided looking at Mr Pennycrumb as she moved about her room, throwing on articles of clothing and pulling on shoes. Opening her wardrobe, she dug into the pocket of one of her coats and pulled out a folded piece of paper. The note was pressed to her lips as she shut her eyes, a moment for the world to freeze only for her, before slipping it into her pocket. With a deep breath, she spun around to meet the expectant stare of her beloved pet.

“Nothing’s ever easy, huh, Penny?” She sniffled, kneeling down beside the bed to watch him lean down and lick her fingers. “This was supposed to be my easiest relationship, baby, and now I gotta leave you… I know we’ve only known each other for less than two months, but I’ll remember every single moment we spent together, bud. I wanted so badly to watch you grow up, to finally grow into that big personality of yours. But I’ll need you to be good for Mom… because we both know how Dad feels about you being around.”

The puppy barked and licked her face, clearing her tears as he did so. She giggled and kissed the top of his head.

“I’ll never forget you, Mr Pennycrumb. You absolute angel. I love you so much.” Standing to her feet, she slowly approached her bedroom door, giving the entire room one last look. She wasn’t attached to it. Not in the slightest. But there was one little savior who, sitting on her bed and tilting his head, she would forever be connected to. “I’m leaving you in the best hands possible. Goodbye, baby.” She breathed and shut her door. Covering her mouth, she sped down the staircase and towards the front door.

“(Y/N)?! Where have you been?!”

Shit.

Wiping her tears away yet again, she turned to her mother and swallowed the lump in her throat. “I-I...” She croaked. Grace’s frown softened before she crouched down in front of her.

“Honey? Is everythin’ alright?”

“Yeah, Mom, I’m fine… I just, uh… I have a really bad headache and it’s a little overwhelming.”

“Oh… I can get you some-”

(Y/N) quickly shook her head. “It’s fine. I was going to head into town, get some fresh air.”

“Well, that’s fine, hun, but you cannot run off like that. You nearly gave us a heart attack! You can’t do that to me. Y-You just can’t!”

“I’m sorry, Mom-”

“Especially right now… I-I wanted to talk to you.”

I don’t have time, I don’t have time.

“Have you,” Grace sighed and looked away, a very clear internal battle going on within her. “Sweetheart, do you notice anything about your father? Anything strange?”

Furrowing her brows, (Y/N) stepped closer. “What… do you mean…?”

“I mean with his work. Do you know anythin’ about what he’s doin’? With the meetings, the secrecy. I-I know it isn’t fair to ask this of you, but I… I-I need to know.”

(Y/N) glanced to the side as she weighed her options. She could always lie to Grace, tell her that she had no idea what Reginald was up to, his plan to kill the president. But she knew her mother deserved so much better than yet another lie from another person she trusted dearly. So, she lifted her head and nodded, hoping it was enough. It seemed as if that were the case, because Grace took a deep breath and enveloped the girl in a hug. (Y/N) sniffled and held her mother tight.

“If I find anything dangerous goin’ on, I’m leaving, (Y/N). I’m leavin’ and I’m takin’ you with me.”

The young girl widened her eyes at these words. “You what?”

“You’re my daughter, (Y/N), adoption be damned. I promised you I would take care of you no matter what. And if removin’ you from Reggie’s life will do that, then I will do what I have to.”

“And I appreciate everything you’ve done for me. I love you so much, Mom…”

“I love you, too, hun.”

(Y/N) never wanted to get attached, she never wanted to build happiness like this for herself, because she knew it’d eventually get ripped from her. One way or another. Still, it was a fun ride while it lasted. Pulling away from the hug, she sniffled again and rubbed her nose. Grace’s smile was full of so much care, adoration and unconditional love that (Y/N) had to step away to let herself breathe. “Well… I’m going now. Um… Mom? Could you do something for me while I’m gone?”

“Anythin’.”

“Please, take care of Mr Pennycrumb. I don't know what I’d do if something happened to him.”

Quietly chuckling, Grace nodded and clasped her hands together as the girl opened the front door. “I promise, only if you promise to be careful. I need you here with me, darlin’.”

“I promise, Mom.”

Stepping out of her home- of Reginald’s house, (Y/N) glanced down at her watch.

Thirty minutes. Shit!

Spinning on her heel, she sprinted her way in the direction of the alleyway. Her chest heaved, her breath was labored, and her arms pumped as her legs worked restlessly to take her to her destination. Locals scowled and gasped when she pushed past them, the girl calling out multiple apologies over her shoulder after the fact. She nearly ran past a corner she had to round, skidding to a stop and turning back around. When she did, she was met with a pair of dark brown eyes. “Preston!”

“You’re coming with me.” He huffed and grabbed her by the arm, dragging her in the opposite direction, back where she started. “I’ve been looking all around Dallas for you. I talked with your dear father and he said you didn’t mean what you said.”

“I don’t have time for this! Let go of me!” (Y/N) thrashed in the hold he now had around her waist. Preston growled and pinned down the arm she had just freed from his grasp.

“You never have time for me, (Y/N)! That’s the problem with you women! You always want the world to revolve around you! Well, you’re just gonna have t’make some time for me! Right now!”

“Goddammit! Let go of me, you little shit!” She shrieked. She freed her arm once again and reared her elbow back towards his face, but he quickly moved his head away to dodge it. The next second, she heard a grunt, and Preston’s hold on her was gone. Spinning around, she saw the boy on the ground, unconscious, blood dribbling from his nose. “What the hell?”

Her eyes moved up and widened at the sight of Lila dusting herself off. Her expression was almost unreadable to (Y/N), but she detected exhaustion. The two stared at each other for a beat before they both nodded. Lila turned her gaze forward and ran off in (Y/N)’s opposite direction. The young girl let out a breath, took one last look at Preston, and continued her sprint to the alleyway.

Arriving there, she almost crashed into the brick wall. “I’m here, I’m here!” She breathlessly called out to Five and Luther. “I’m here- Ew, what the fuck?!” She yelped, her foot almost landing in a splatter of vomit. Beside it was a groaning Klaus, the man muttering something about a strange dream.

“Thank god,” Five clenched his jaw and checked his watch. “Anymore last minute arrivals?!”

“Hey, I’m here, aren’t I?!” (Y/N) hissed and made her way over to the seething Five, who only spared her a glance before looking around the alleyway again.

“We’ve got a minute left.” Luther muttered and smashed his fist against the top of the closed dumpster.

Klaus groaned and placed his hands over his face. “What’s going on, guys? Are we going somewhere?”

“It was a simple task,” Five ranted as he paced the alleyway. “It was a simple task! All we had to do was be here. Didn’t have to fight a giant sea monster, no. Any army of mutants? Nein!”

(Y/N) checked her watch, sighing as their last remaining minute ticked away. Heading to the opening of the alley, she moved her head from left to right, hoping to see the last of her siblings rushing to their way home. But alas, no one arrived and she could hear the three behind her yelling at each other. The sound of clicking got her attention and she turned around to see everyone watching the briefcase.

“Goddammit.” Five muttered before bending down and picking up the briefcase by the handle, flinging it into the air. With a zap and a whoosh, their ticket to 2019 disappeared in a bright blue portal. The four watched as the portal disappeared, much like the first time they were left in this timeline. “We were that close.”

“That close…” (Y/N) sighed.

—————————————

Taglist: @unfortu-nate-ly @sapphicsyn @m00n-sh @starcurrent @alexander-hamilhoe @youcandalekmyballs @wonderlandfandomkingdom @yrdadjstcallsmekatya @sm0kingcrack @a-t-h-r-e-e-n-a @moatsnow @bubblegumflamingos @starstormssymphony @meowiemari @magicalgothpandamaker @keayastitties @hehehehannahthings @harrystylescherrie @rhain3 @himikaphoo @xxeiraxx @camerondiaz48104 @georgeweasleys-gorl @theyaremorethanjustfictional @that-can-of-fizz @luckyzipperscissorsbat @cuupiid

[leupagus]

Please understand that I've written over 30K of this story in the past six days

Title is tentatively "You, Therefore" and once it's done will get posted on AO3. Nobody's more annoyed with me than I am that this happened but what can you do ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

—*—

"Ted Lasso to see you," Sophie says, and Ted barely has time to step inside before she vanishes in a proverbial puff of smoke, shutting the door behind her. Which you can’t do if you literally vanish in a puff of smoke — hence the proverbial.

Trent’s office is a lot smaller than Ted and Beard’s, but there’s an old mansion vibe to it that you don’t really get at a clubhouse. Behind the desk is a solid wall of bookshelves, filled to the brim with books and magazines and a lot more awards than Ted expected, although it’s not a huge surprise — Trent’s one of the best, and has been for a while now. There’s a nice rug over the carpet and the desk looks like something that the Queen might sit behind when she’s giving one of those speeches of hers.

The man himself is sitting behind it right now, though, blinking up at Ted over the tops of his glasses with his hands hovering over the keyboard on his laptop. He doesn’t say anything, just slowly takes off his glasses and puts them on the desk.

"So," Ted says, shoving his hands in his pockets, "I got your email. About how you’re not covering Richmond anymore?"

Trent keeps on not saying anything, which Ted’s noticed is a trick of his. Ted’s not the biggest fan of it, but it’s effective.

He takes a seat in one of the chairs in front of the desk and claps his hands on his knees. "And I’d like to ask some follow-up questions, in the words of this journalist guy I know."

"Very well," says Trent, all rounded out vowels — Ted still can’t tell one accent from another, but Nate’s told him that Trent is what’s known as "posh." There are other terms for it — "Oxbridge rowing team afternoon tea type prick" is what Roy called him once, and even though Ted has no idea what any of those words mean in context, he gets the feeling that Trent’s the type of guy who retreats into his own good manners whenever he’s thrown off.

"You said—" Ted has to pull out his phone to make sure he gets the exact phrasing right — "'I have spoken with my editors and we’ve agreed that this is the most appropriate course of action.’ Mind clarifying that a bit for me?"

Trent sighed, and leaned back in his chair. Trent’s one of those born leaners — Ted might go so far as to call him languid. It ought to make him seem harmless, and maybe that’s how most people see it; he can’t have gotten all the stories he’s gotten without people trusting him. But seeing him like that always makes Ted a little nervous, like he's a mouse stuck in a room with a cat who’s just had a nice meal but is contemplating him for dessert. "Very well," Trent says again.

Ted manages to stop himself making some joke about deja vu all over again. "Whenever you’re ready," he prompts.

Trent heaves a big sigh. "I would ask that this conversation not leave this room," he says. "Would you agree to that?"

"Strictly off the record," Ted promises.

That gets him a little bit of a smile, which is nice, but he’s still hesitating, licking his lips and looking out the window like he’s trying to figure out which version of the story to run — the one where Richmond won or the one where they lost. Or the one where they tied, but Trent had to run that story for almost two months. Maybe he got tired of it.

"I’ve become involved with someone from AFC Richmond," Trent says, which snaps Ted right back to the conversation. "As such, it would be unethical for me to continue covering the team."

"You’re involved with — who?" That really shouldn’t be Ted’s first question. That’s wonderful, Trent, I’m rooting for you and whoever’s lucky enough to date you, but also I care about everyone on my team so you are also lucky to be dating them, which means everyone’s lucky all around is what he should say. But a lot of times Ted’s brain and his mouth don’t get along so well and something else entirely pops out.

[heyitssmiller]

Clandestine: Chapter Eleven

I... about 75% of this chapter was not in the outline, and I don’t really know what to do about that fact. This completely ran away from me, but that’s ok I guess.

Characters, as always, belong to the amazing @lumosinlove and a huge thanks again to @donttouchmycarrots for proofreading!! <3

Clandestine Masterlist

CW: hospitals, injury, brief mention of blood, medical drugs

.

Leo slept. A lot.

Logan knew this was normal; their nurse had reiterated it a few times now. When he did wake up, it was only for a few dazed, confused minutes before he was pulled back under again. The confusion ebbed the more time went on, the effects of anesthesia wearing off, but the dull sheen to his eyes remained. He could fight his way through a brief conversation with him or Finn, and then he was back to sleep. It was probably for the best, Logan told himself. Better than dealing with their present situation, at least.

Finn was curled up uncomfortably in the chair beside him, also sleeping. He normally looked peaceful when he was asleep – lips slightly parted, face relaxed, on his side or stomach with one hand usually shoved under his pillow. After about a week of sharing a hotel room and a bed, Logan knew these things. It wasn’t the same now. Granted, he was in a chair instead of a bed, but still. He was curled up somewhat in a ball, with the leg in a brace stretched out and immobile – an awkward position that almost made him look like a flamingo balancing on one leg. His shoulders were tense, even in sleep, and his jaw was clenched tight. A worry line was furrowed between his eyebrows, steadfastly refusing to smooth out. Logan brushed his knuckles faintly against the bruise on his cheek, plum against porcelain, and sighed. He knew he should be doing the same thing – sleeping, that is – but every time he closed his eyes… well. It wasn’t pretty. Besides, someone needed to keep an eye out. There was only so long the nurse could delay the GSW report.

It was only a matter of time before they were on the run again.

Regulus drifted in and out on occasion, checking in on them. He seemed to be on guard, constantly walking the perimeter of the hospital and keeping an eye out for familiar faces. It put Logan on edge and calmed him down at the simultaneously. He didn’t trust Regulus, not really, but he figured if he was going to sabotage them he would’ve done so already. He’d had ample opportunity, after all.

Logan glanced at the clock. They’d been here for just shy of twenty-four hours now. The sun was starting to rise again, not bringing any answers with it. Loops had been in contact, briefly. They’d received one text message that simply said “stay put” and radio silence after that. He just hoped they had a good plan. Even better if it was safe, too, but Logan wasn’t about to push their luck… if you could even call it that.

For now, this was ok. They were together, they were alive, and they were relatively safe, for now. In that moment, listening to the steady beeps of a monitor and muffled conversations of people in the hallway outside their door and the even breathing of his partners, he couldn’t ask for much more.

***

Nate saw the scowling, intimidating group of people in the lobby and knew they were in trouble.

He had just started today’s shift, still tired from the one the day before, and was in the process of saying his usual hello to the staff working the front desk when he saw them. There were three of them – at least two of which were over six feet tall, looming and muscular and intense. One had a scar traversing down one side of his face, healed but still a beacon that screamed “don’t mess with me”. The short, scary one was right.

He’d submitted the GSW report about ten minutes ago, and here they were.

Fuck.

Nate didn’t even say goodbye to the sweet lady working the desk that day, he just backed away slowly and tried to appear normal as he pushed past the doors. As soon as they closed he broke into a run, headed straight for room 308 and stopping by the nurse’s station for a split second to grab two prescriptions before he was off again. He was almost there when he crashed into someone as he rounded a corner, only avoiding hitting the ground by two arms that snaked out to steady him. He looked up to gray eyes and a vaguely familiar face.

“Sorry.” The guy said and let go of him, frowning when he saw what was no doubt a look of panic on Nate’s face. “You ok?”

He remembered this guy now. He was with the scary short guy and the other two. He wasn’t around much, but Nate had seen him a few times when he’d been making his rounds.

“They’re here.” He blurted, hoping that he didn’t need so say anymore.

He didn’t. in the blink of an eye he was leading the way to room 308 and throwing the door open, which Nate didn’t think was the best idea. He didn’t know what these people did for a living, but it was clearly dangerous. Barging in like that probably wasn’t a good move.

Sure enough, when Nate followed Gray Eyes into the room, the short one was on his feet and had pulled a gun from somewhere, aiming it at the two of them. Gray Eyes stuck his arm out and kept Nate from going any further until Short Angry One recognized them.

Nate used to think this was a relatively safe career path. Sure he might get puked on, yelled at, mentally and emotionally eviscerated by doctors and patients and family members alike on a regular basis, but he’d never felt like his life was in danger.

Maybe he should go into accounting. Just him in an office with a bunch of numbers. Or a museum curator, surrounded by ancient artifacts and not much else. Definitely not people pointing guns at you.

Both the redhead and the blond woke up at the disturbance, one sitting up in a flash and the other just blinking sleepily and frowning in concern. Before anyone else could get a word in edgewise, Gray Eyes blurted out, “They’re here.”

The EKG readings on the monitor spiked, and then it was a flurry of motion. Short Angry One cursed under his breath and pulled Gray Eyes and Nate into the room fully, closing the door behind them. The redhead started throwing the few things they had into his pockets – a phone, some other electronic device Nate couldn’t identify, an old lock, a pen. He shoved his shoes on, unsteady on his feet, and looked to the blond, who was still in a hospital gown and watching with wide eyes. All the color that had been slowly returning to his cheeks was now gone.

Nate steeled his resolve. His job was to save lives, damnit, and that’s what he was going to do.

He jumped into action, pushing Gray Eyes out of the way and unhooking his patient from the monitors before discontinuing the IV drip and pulling the IV out, stopping the bleeding with quick pressure from his hand. “There’s an employee exit down the hall that leads to the parking garage. You guys know how to hotwire a car, by any chance? I’d offer you mine but I don’t have one.”

“I can.” Glaring down at his sling, the blond muttered, “Well. Maybe can is the wrong word.”

Nate let up on the pressure, shrugged his thin jacket off, and helped him slide his good arm through the sleeve, throwing the other side around his shoulder gently. It wouldn’t do much to help, but it was better than nothing. “Can you show someone else how to do it?”

“Maybe.” He said, moving to swing his legs over the edge of the bed and frowning when Nate stopped him. “I can walk.”

Nate smiled. Typical. “That’s what they all say. I’m going to grab a wheelchair, anyways. You’ll be faster that way.” He looked at the others in the room and continued. “I’ll lead you to the exit, but I’m afraid that’s as far as I can take you. I’ll try to find these guys and get them off your trail as best I can.”

He shoved the two prescriptions he was so glad he’d filled last night at Ginger, trying to ignore the way all of them seemed to be staring at him. “Instructions are on the labels. He needs to finish all the antibiotics. All of them.” He didn’t have time to stress the importance of preventing antibiotic resistance, but he hoped they would take his word for it. “Let me go get-”

The door opened again and they all swiveled towards it. Ginger stepped between the blond and the door while Short One raised his gun again – but he didn’t shoot. In fact he just stared for a second, then lowered his gun with a smile.

“Loops.” He said, relieved, and – what?

The three men Nate had seen earlier were ushered into the room, the tallest one slapping the brunet on the shoulder, causing him to stumble as he flipped the safety of his gun back on and stashed it in the waistline of his pants.

The one in the front with caramel colored eyes looked between their group, one eyebrow arched. “Going somewhere? I thought I told you to stay put.”

Ginger laughed incredulously, shoulders slumping. “Holy shit, Loops. We thought you were someone else.”

Gray Eyes looked at Nate, exasperation clear in his gaze. “You told me they were here.”

Nate threw his arms up in defense. “You look at those guys and tell me you wouldn’t be suspicious.” He winced and looked at the newcomers, realizing that his words might be offensive. “Sorry.”

Neither of them seemed to take it to heart. The tall one just grinned and said, in a heavily-accented voice, “We still got it, eh, Nado?”

The one with the scar – Nado, apparently – just rolled his eyes and didn’t comment, but Nate could see one side of his mouth lifting into a smile. It softened his face, made him look more like a teddy bear than the scary, intimidating guy he’d seen in the lobby.

“We’ve got a car out back.” The one called Loops said, looking to the blond with gentle, understanding eyes. “You good to go?”

He nodded firmly, no room for second-guessing. “Let’s do this.”

Now, Nate didn’t exactly think it was a good idea to move a GSW patient out of a hospital only a day after getting shot, but – judging by how the others had reacted at the thought of people coming for them – it was safer for him to leave than to stay here. His brain, after all those years of medical classes and caffeine/anxiety induced all-nighters, was screaming in horror about complications and sepsis and bone fragments, but he didn’t voice them. He just reached for a pen and paper in his pocket. He scribbled his number down and handed it to his patient. “If you have any questions, don’t hesitate to ask, ok? I’d feel much better if you at least had a nurse with you, but this’ll have to do.”

He got a warm smile in response. “Thanks,” he said, voice and eyes serious. “For everything. Not many people would do what you did for us.”

Nate blinked. “I genuinely don’t know if that’s a good thing or a bad thing, but thanks?” He still didn’t know who exactly he was helping, but then again, he guessed it didn’t really matter either way. They seemed like good people dealing with a shitty situation, and that was a good enough motive for him. “I’m going to grab that wheelchair quickly and I’ll be right back.”

He should’ve known that, by the time he got back, they’d already be gone – leaving no trace except for the disheveled sheets on the bed, two chairs next to it instead of the standard one, and the still humming machines and monitors.

Nate let himself slump against the wheelchair, forearms resting against the handles.

“What the fuck,” he said, with feeling.

***

Sirius was behind the steering wheel of a very old service van, watching six of them pile into the back and Loops slide into the passenger’s seat. His eyes didn’t stray long from Regulus, though. If he’d had enough time, he would’ve tackled his younger brother in a hug. Unfortunately, they were on a bit of a tight schedule. “Petition to never have to break someone out of a hospital again.” He said wryly, putting the van into drive and searching for the exit to the maze that was this parking garage. All the while, he was sneaking glances in the rearview mirror, unable to help himself.

“Where do I sign?” Finn deadpanned from the back row, sandwiched between Logan and Leo. They looked so tired. Leo didn’t hesitate to twist in his seat a little so that he could lean into Finn’s chest and close his eyes, looking absolutely miserable. Finn shifted just slightly, pressing a barely-perceptible kiss to a bird’s nest of curls and relaxing back into his seat.

Huh.

That was… new.

But then again, was it? Sirius thought back to the past several months of this operation and found that he really wasn’t that surprised. But then there was Logan…

“Turn left here.” Remus said, pulling him out of the thoughts, calm and in control like usual. His lips turned up into a smile as he flicked his turn signal on. He could see them doing exactly this, when all the chaos was said and done. Taking a roadtrip, Sirius behind the wheel and Remus navigating, going wherever they felt like. No worries or missions, just the two of them and the black top below them. He shelved the daydreaming for later.

“Where are we going?”

Sirius’ eyes flew back to the mirror at his brother’s voice – the first time he’d head it un-obscured by a phone or earpiece in too long. He’d missed him. He’d fought so hard for him, to get him out of that mess and keep him safe, and here he was. They’d done it.

Was he a horrible person, for feeling as relieved as he did? He’d inadvertently put the Cubs through hell for mostly selfish reasons. Sure, he wanted to take the Snakes down, but that paled in comparison to the safety of his brother. He’d let the Snakes walk away scot-free if it meant Reg was safe.

He didn’t know what kind of person that made him – he was too afraid to speculate about it.

“My family has a cabin about two hours away,” Remus replied, balancing his phone with the navigation app against the center console so that Sirius could see it. “It’s empty right now, so it’s a perfect hideout until we figure out next steps.”

Finn was asleep now, too, head pillowed on Leo’s. Logan stared sightlessly out the window beside them, stonily silent. Sirius ached for him. They were kindred spirits, he and Logan. Stubborn, fierce, bleeding hearts who cared too much and shouldered more than their fair share of the responsibility when things went wrong.

And things had really gone wrong.

“What are the next steps?” Reg asked as they left the city and headed towards the interstate. “This isn’t the only backup we’ve got, right?”

“Sleep,” Kuny told Regulus, not unkindly, “had big couple of days, yes? Plan later.”

Reg looked at the tall Russian sitting next to him for a second, then sighed and turned his gaze to the window.

Sirius drove on in silence.

Two hours and eighteen minutes later, he was pulling up on a gravel driveway to a quaint, two-story cabin. The jostling of the gravel under their tires seemed to wake everyone up, according to the grumbles and yawns Sirius could hear from behind him as he finally put the van in park. The doors opened and they were all climbing out of the van, stretching stiff muscles and groaning. The ones with bags in the trunk went to unload while Remus fished his keys out of his pocket and headed for the front door, bounding up the last two steps to the porch. He was equal parts glad and upset that they were here. He was grateful that the Cubs were safe now and that this cabin was so far off the grid that the Snakes wouldn’t find them. But bringing a bunch of coworkers to the place he went to escape work stuff… jeez. Not that he didn’t like his coworkers, but sometimes he needed a break from it all. Plus this place belonged to his family. Being here with anyone but them just felt wrong.

Remus opened the door, instantly on guard when he saw the kitchen light was on. Whoever was in there must’ve heard the door because Remus could hear the refrigerator door close, then loud footsteps headed towards them. His hand drifted to his gun and he cautiously flicked the safety off.

A head peeked out from the kitchen. All-too-familiar eyes widened excitedly. “Re?”

The safety quickly went back on. “Jules?”

He wasn’t supposed to be there. Their trip wasn’t for another week-

Remus’ younger brother beamed and launched himself towards him, leaping into Remus’ arms when he got close enough with an excited shout.

“What are you doing here? I thought you couldn’t make it this trip!”

“What am I – what are you doing here?” Remus shot back, tensing up when he heard footsteps behind him. “Your trip is supposed to be next week!”

“School got cancelled because of all the snow.” Jules peered around Remus at the gathering group behind him. “Who are they?”

“Jules?” The familiar voice of their mother called from down the hall. “Who are you talking to, honey?”

Oh god, this was something straight out of Remus’ nightmares. How the fuck was he supposed to explain all this to his family? The rest of their agents were supposed to drive up here tomorrow with gear and supplies and weapons for their final stand against the Snakes. That… there was no way to explain that. At all.

Fuuuuuuck.

Hope Lupin stepped around the corner, startling when she saw the crowd on her doorstep. “Remus?”

“I’m so sorry, mom,” he blurted, the words coming out in an unfiltered rush. “I didn’t know you’d be up here or else I would’ve-”

“Oh, nonsense. We’re happy to have you and your… friends.” She said sweetly, voice raising into an almost-question at the end. Remus, flying blind, said the first thing that came to mind.

“They’re work friends. And there’s a few more coming tomorrow, if that’s ok.”

“What happened to him?” Jules interrupted, wide eyes trained on Leo, who smiled faintly.

“Shoulder surgery,” Leo said easily, taking Remus by surprise a little at how easily he responded with a textbook spy tactic: tell the truth, but only enough to not raise suspicion. He technically wasn’t lying, either. It was harder to get caught lying when you technically hadn’t.

It seemed like the rookie was no longer a rookie.

“It was recent, wasn’t it?” Hope asked, eyes sharp with observation as she ushered them all inside. When Leo looked at her a little distrustfully and both Logan and Finn stiffened beside him, she sent them all a soothing smile. “I’m a nurse, I can tell.”

“About a day and a half ago.” Leo let her lead them to a couch and sat down, answering Hope’s questions calmly now, seeming to know she could be trusted. When Remus looked around again, he noticed that Sirius and Regulus were both absent, no doubt having a much-needed talk. He was struck with a twinge of worry, but pushed it back. He shouldn’t interfere. They needed some time alone to sort through things. Sirius would talk to him about it if he felt like it. Nado and Kuny were trying to sneak their way into the kitchen, looking for whatever smelled so good in there. For spies, they weren’t very subtle.

“What kind of shoulder surgery?” Jules asked, trailing after their mom. “Re had one a few years ago, too!”

Remus winced and shot Leo an apologetic look for his over-inquisitive brother. “Not quite the same, Jules.”

“All he does is sleep now,” Finn said teasingly as he took a step back and stretched out his leg with only a slight wince. “My jacket has drool all over it from the car ride here.”

Leo shot Finn an unheated glare as he sat up and opened his mouth to shoot back a reply when all of a sudden he went pale as a sheet, eyes dazed. Everyone in the room froze, looking at him nervously.

Finn was kneeling in front of him in a flash, Logan already holding his hand too tightly from his spot beside him. “Leo?”

The blond squeezed his eyes shut and leaned into Logan heavily. “Hurts,” he managed to grit out while Logan wrapped an arm around his waist and held him close, combing his fingers through a riotous mess of curls. He locked gazes with Finn and saw a different kind of pain from Leo’s, but identical to Logan’s, reflected there as he watched helplessly.

Maybe they should’ve accepted the risks and stayed at the hospital. They’d be sitting ducks there, but at least it wouldn’t be this. Logan would take the uncomfortable chairs and the nurse who talked too much and the stress over the heavy weight pressed against him, the shaky, too-measured breaths, the soulful brown eyes that matched his own.

It felt like all the decisions he’d been making recently were the wrong ones. It would be nice to not put his partners through pain because of his poor decisions for once.

Hope was by their side then, holding out a glass of water and two pills. Logan hadn’t even noticed Finn set the prescriptions down on the entryway table. “I think it’s time to take these now.” Leo refused to move from his current spot, but he took the pills and followed them with a quick drink of water. A muffled “thank you” was murmured into the material of Logan’s shirt, quiet and a little tense.

Hope just smiled sympathetically. “You’re probably going to get really sleepy in the next thirty minutes or so,” she continued, giving the three of them a look. Like she knew something. “So if there’s any conversations that can’t wait until the morning…”

Loops came by his eerie observation skills naturally, it seemed.

Logan looked to Remus and the others, hoping that all the planning could wait until the morning. They were exhausted. Surely they’d be ok without them for a few hours.

“Go get some rest,” Loops said gently, motioning down the hallway. “There’s a guest bedroom down there, second door on the left. We’ll talk tomorrow.”

Finn made a beeline for the bathroom as soon as they reached the bedroom, muttering about how he’d needed to use the restroom since they’d all piled into the van. Leo toed off his shoes while Logan hovered, unsure if he should offer to help or not, his heart still in his throat. Leo just sent him a weary, affectionate smile. It tugged viciously at Logan’s heart and made him want to pull his partner close and not let go. Ever.

“I’m ok, sweetheart.”

He could’ve cried at the relief of hearing that nickname again. “You sure?” He asked, just to be safe.

Leo’s face was inscrutable as he cautiously sat down on the bed. “If I keep telling myself that… eventually I’ll start to believe it, right?”

Logan didn’t have an answer to that, not at first. But he remembered the feeling from after missions that had gone belly-up, the few that he wasn’t sure he was going to make it out of. The disbelief that somehow, after all of that, he was still alive and ok. It felt like trying to find his way through a snowstorm when all he could see was blinding, overwhelming white.

He wasn’t about to let Leo navigate that without a guide.

He sat down next to Leo and grabbed his hand, moving down to the pulse-point at his wrist and feeling tendons flex and shift under his fingertips. It beat, steady and strong, when he pressed down lightly. He knew Leo could feel it, too.

“You’re here.” Logan said simply. It was a tactic he used on bad days, when everything got to be too much. That little pulse, a sign of life and resilience. The two of them shared that now, that resilience and refusal to die that flowed through their veins.

Leo stared at him, eyes so soft and a hue that Logan wanted to engrave into his memory. “Logan,” he said quietly, right as Finn flung the bathroom door open again. His mouth was in the process of opening to tell a joke when he saw the two of them and snapped it shut again with an audible click, unsure of what to do next.

Leo shared a look with Logan and a conversation passed between the two, silent but apparently crystal clear. Finn couldn’t quite tell if it was excitement or anxiety dancing in his stomach, but either way he wasn’t sure he liked the sensation.

He had a feeling he knew what was coming. They’d been tip-toeing around this conversation for too long now, and they’d finally reached the tipping point. However this conversation went, he knew their relationship would never be the same, and that scared him. There was comfort in things known and familiar, after all.

This felt like hanging out of a perfectly-good plane and not knowing if the parachute strapped to his back was going to work or not.

But everyone who took the jump said it was worth it, in the end. Finn desperately hoped they were right.

“I think we should talk.” Logan said quietly, patting the open spot on the bed next to him. The dreaded words. No one ever wanted to hear those words.

Finn made his way towards them, too afraid to make eye contact, and sat down gingerly. Feet firmly planted on the floor, one hand braced on the bed, tense and ready to get up and take flight if he felt like he needed to. “We’re finally going to have this conversation, huh?” he asked with a fake laugh that fell flat, finally glancing up. Looking at the two of them, side by side and seeming to just know each other in a way Finn felt like he didn’t, he wondered where he fit into all of this.

If he fit in at all.

God, he hoped he fit in.

“Look,” Leo started, voice steady and resolute like he was getting ready to rip off the proverbial bandaid. It did nothing to calm Finn down. “Logan and I talked a while ago, about us. And, um – well, we want to be together. All three of us.”

Finn blinked once, twice. The words weren’t exactly computing, not after spending so long telling himself that this would never happen, could never happen. “Oh.”

“You had to know,” Logan said, sounding confused. “You had to know how we felt. None of us were exactly subtle.”

“I… I hoped.” Finn managed to get out before he got distracted by Logan’s soft touch against the curve of his cheekbone, creating his own constellations out of the freckles there. Finn let his eyes close and focused on the point of contact. He had hoped, even if he’d tried to stamp it out most days. He’d hoped and he’d yearned and he’d ached, and now – finally, unbelievably – he might be getting exactly what he’d wanted. “I knew how the two of you felt about each other, I just… wasn’t sure where that left me.”

“Finn…” He heard the sheets rustle as Leo scooted closer and opened his eyes again.

“Can you blame me?” Finn let Leo hold his hand and slot their fingers together, a painfully delicate motion. He stared down at them, noticing faint green bruising from an IV line and deeper, purple discoloration from that one time Finn tried to catch himself before he hit the ground after a brutal punch. They matched, in a sick, twisted way.

But they were both healing – skin stitching itself slowly back together and aches fading little by little. There was a poignant symbolism there, Finn thought, musing over the words he needed to say. Talking about the doubts and the hurt and the confusion surrounding the three of them might be painful in the moment, but healing would always follow, even if it took a while.

He was thrilled that they wanted him, don’t get him wrong, but that didn’t have the ability to just wipe away the hurt of the past week. “You seemed happy together, just the two of you.” He thought of the coffee shop and watching them from his table with June. Or the hotel room the next day, the stolen glances and furtive touches. “I didn’t want to get in the way of that, not if I wasn’t wanted.”

One of the other two made a broken sound; Finn wasn’t sure who it was. The hand on his cheek moved to his chin and Logan ducked his head to meet Finn’s eyes again, fierce and sincere – a combination that encompassed the very core of the fighter.

“I’ve wanted you since that crazy New Year’s party.” He said with conviction and Finn laughed a little at the memories.

“Then why didn’t you ever say anything?”

“Why didn’t you?” Logan challenged, signaling a change in the winds. Finn could see the storm brewing in those green eyes. “We were partners. Adding a relationship to the mix would only complicate things.”

“So what changed?” Finn let his frustration bleed through, ignoring Leo’s squeeze to his hand. “You’re saying two completely different things right now and it’s confusing as hell.”

Logan bit back, voice suddenly loud and harsh. “You think this is how I wanted to fall in love?”

Leo and Finn stared at him. No one had mentioned love. Not yet, at least. Logan seemed to recognize the intensity of his words and his shoulders slumped, but he didn’t take them back. Finn wasn’t sure if he was grateful for that or terrified because of it.

“It’s not supposed to be this hard, is it?” the brunet asked, voice a softer murmur. “Why couldn’t the three of us be normal and meet at, like, college or a coffee shop or something?”

Silence greeted him, heavy and suffocating.

“Because these are the cards we were dealt,” Leo said finally, looking between the two of them. “And yeah, it might be a shitty hand, but don’t you think it’d be worth it? After all that we’ve been through, choosing each other instead of letting the fear pull us apart?”

“Sounds like something out of a romance novel.”

Leo shrugged his good shoulder at Logan’s words, a conscientious effort to keep the other side of his body completely still. Finn ached a little at the sight. “Love isn’t easy, not for anyone. It’s a choice you make, day after day.” Blue eyes the color of a cloudless afternoon sky were calm and free of conflict when he looked at them again. “I’ve made my choice. What about you?”

Finn stared at him for what felt like forever, then blurted, “Did you rehearse that or something? What the fuck, Nutty.”

The resulting smile on Leo’s face was a welcomed reprieve from the earlier storm, placid and radiant. How was Finn supposed to do anything else but lean over, cup his cheeks in his hands, and press his lips against that smile?

Leo kissed a little distractedly, like he wasn’t quite sure what he wanted to do first. The hand not caught in a sling flitted from auburn hair to fist in his t-shirt, then migrated lower to wrap around Finn’s back, long fingers splayed against his spine. But his mouth was soft and sweet against Finn’s, returning his kisses happily, and the combination of the two were just so Leo that Finn’s stomach swooped and his heart flopped in his chest.

He pulled back for air, an unfortunate necessity, and took in the sight in front of him. Leo’s eyes were still closed and that smile still graced kiss-swollen lips as he swayed towards Finn, clearly wanting more. Finn smiled too, irrevocably charmed, and kissed his cheek, his jaw, that cute little indent in his chin, then the curve of his smile again. He could never, not in a hundred years, get enough of this.

And then Logan met his gaze from beside the blond, eyes fond and warm as he watched them and ran his fingers up and down Finn’s thigh, the motion raising goosebumps on Finn’s arms – the air dense and volatile around them like the instant before lightning struck. Finn needed to kiss him, too. To learn the difference between the way he kissed to keep up pretenses on a mission and the way he kissed when he meant it. Finn kept Leo close with a hand on his waist and tilted Logan’s head up to kiss him, deep and intense. It was thrilling and a little wild; so different from kissing Leo, but just as captivating. Always unpredictable, the kiss morphed from charged to surprisingly, achingly gentle – a thunderstorm melting into a comforting spring shower. Finn was reminded of shoving the couch up against the wall nearest to the window during storms as a kid, watching the raindrops track down the glass, and the sound of the world going silent save for the wind and the thunder and the rain hitting the roof like the pounding of drums – a symphony just for him to witness. He sighed against soft lips and sank into the kiss, listening for the intricacies of this new, unknown melody.

The rustle of clean sheets, a hitch in breath followed by a deep exhale, the steady beat of the old clock hung on the wall, a hum against his lips.

Then Leo was leaning in to kiss Finn’s pulse-point, firm enough to bruise and tender enough to make Finn’s eyelashes flutter. Finn canted his head to the side, stretching his neck to give Leo more skin to claim, and pulled Logan in again. A duet shifting to a trio and slotting perfectly into place, patching the gaps in the music that Finn didn’t even notice were there.

This was worth it. It had to be. As much as it would kill him – or any of them, really – to love them and then lose them, that would still be better than not loving them at all.

They’d wanted this for so long now, all of them. Even with all the stress and hurt and doubt, Finn couldn’t help but feel a little giddy. For fuck’s sake, he was kissing Logan. It wasn’t part of a mission. And Leo was still pressing kiss after kiss to his neck because he wanted to. They wanted each other.

Screw panicking about losing them. Finn was done missing things because he was worried about things that might not even happen. It wasn’t something he could just will away or turn off, of course, but he could actively make sure he was living in the current moment. And right then, the current moment was making out with his boys in a cabin in the middle of nowhere.

He loved the current moment.

The kiss turned to simply smiling against Logan’s mouth, delirious with contentment, so Finn broke away and pulled Logan in for a hug, then gently maneuvered Leo to join them, making sure his wound was well out of the way. They stayed like that for a long time, relaxing in the closeness and adjusting to the newness of all of this. And even though it was new, it was already something they were quickly getting addicted to. The string connecting Finn’s heart to theirs cinched tighter and pulled sharply. For the first time, he didn’t mind it in the slightest. It was no longer a painful reminder of what he couldn’t have, it was an exhilarating sign that were all irreversibly intertwined, both in each other’s arms and in this crazy mess that was their lives.

Leo interrupted the moment with a yawn, blinking sleepily. Finn smiled a little at the sight – he almost felt like he was doing too much of that in the past few minutes, but sleepy Leo was simply adorable.

“Come on, let’s get you to bed.” Logan urged. It would be a tight squeeze, the three of them in that bed, but now they could cuddle and press close without pretending it didn’t happen the next morning. Finn sighed happily at the thought and headed for the light switch. The light from the lamp on the bedside table illuminated his way back to his boys, all soft and stretched out next to each other under a pale comforter. It was a much-needed reprieve from the chaos of their current situation that Finn was all to eager to take advantage of.

He watched as Logan propped himself up on one arm to look down at Leo, hand trailing through that tuft of gray hair and then tugging on it playfully. They shared a smile before Logan leaned down the rest of the way to kiss him, assured and familiar and unrushed. They’d done this before. The knowledge didn’t tear at Finn’s heart like it would have a week ago, because now he knew that they felt the same way about him. And he was falling for them, too. Watching the two boys he was half in love with already so comfortable and loving with each other? How was Finn supposed to handle all the emotions bubbling over in his chest? He crawled into bed next to Logan and flicked the lamp off, settling the room into darkness.

Logan settled in to sleep facing Finn and with Leo’s reassuring warmth behind him. His eyes closed and time slowed, a blessed mercy. The events of tomorrow felt years away in that still, quiet moment. But there was something prodding at the back of Logan’s mind – some strange, uncomfortable feeling that he could quite place, until he realized that everything was too still, too quiet. His mind flashed to the litany of “what ifs” that had looped in his brain like a mantra back in that hospital room and he rolled over quickly, shuffling over until his head was pillowed on Leo’s chest, far away from the bandages.

Thump-thump.

Leo’s chest rose and fell under Logan’s head as he breathed and Logan let himself relax, reaching blindly behind him until he found Finn’s arm and flung it over himself, loosely intertwining their fingers over his chest. Finn moved in closer to press against his back and tangle their legs together. He sighed before going still again, breaths deep and even.

And Logan finally, finally let himself drift off to sleep.

[schrijverr]

Surprise Hit

On a con Eliot is recognized by someone who has a hit on him and has to run.

On AO3.

Ships: none

Warnings: mentions of some mafia dealings

~~~~~~~~~~~

The con went to shit.

This happened often enough with a mark not making the expected choice, a firewall taking longer to crack than anticipated or someone showing up that was not supposed to. It was normal, however the way it went to shit this time was unique. “Nate, I got a problem,” Eliot announced.

“What is it?” Nate asked over the coms. It was an integral part of the plan that Eliot talked to their mark, John Fernsby, and convinced him to meet with Sophie. Nate would have done it, but he had already been the one to go in and convince the billionaire that thebusiness was worth investing in and Hardison was needed to help Parker into the safe. It had to be Eliot.

But Eliot said there was a problem, which was bad. However, it was about to get worse when Eliot answered: “He’s talking with a foreign dignitary, but I know he isn’t. That’s Mikhail Volkov, Russian mob. He has a hit out on me.”

“The fuck, man,” Hardison replied.

“I didn’t pick it either, okay,” Eliot hissed back. “But if he sees me, we’re fucked. Well, I’m fucked and someone has to take my part in the con.”

Hardison had pulled up the camera feed of the gala and watched how Eliot turned away from the mark and tried to leave them room without pulling any attention to himself. He almost managed too, were it not for a serenade band coming in right as he was near the exit.

It was such a stupid little thing that they couldn't have predicted and it was so incredibly ill-timed that Eliot had no room to come up with something. Mikhail turned to the band and saw Eliot, his brow furrowed and he yelled: “Stop that man!” as Eliot started to sprint, multiple people now on his trail.

He pushed over furniture behind him and swerved while a few bullets started to fly around his head, dangerously close. In his ear Hardison was giving him directions to Lucille, but he knew he could not return to the team. Not right now.

The Russian mob was not known for their leniency and if they thought he had people he worked with, then they would only target them as well. No, he had to go into hiding on his own and return to them later, when he could shake off his pursuers. In his ear he heard Hardison rant at him as he took the wrong turn, but Eliot didn’t care. He had a plan.

On the street it was easier to disappear, though he got many looks from people as they cleared the way for him while he ran like a madman. There were a few screams when the Russians appeared behind him with guns.

If it were a normal day and he was on his own, he would have stayed to fight them, but he was wearing a suit he couldn't easily fight in and Sophie and Parker had still been in the building, he couldn't risk them for something stupid he’d done in the past. And when he was outside, he didn’t have the surprise advantage or the closeness to take on that many guys with guns.

So, he ran.

His lungs were burning in his chest and his legs would be jelly were it not for the fact that he regularly ran long tracks in case he got in this exact situation.

It took a while, but the bullets stopped flying around his head and he couldn't hear any footsteps behind him anymore. He took a moment to focus on the chatter over the coms. His brain hadn’t heardany of the key words to get his attention in the background, so he assumed it was all fine.

“Eliot, Eliot, are you listening to me?” That was Nate.

“I’m here,” he grunted, checking in the alley if there was anyone still following, before starting to climb the fire escape.

“What are you doing? Hardison’s GPS says you’re nowhere near the hotel. We need to regroup and figure out our next move,” Nate said as Sophie asked: “Are you okay, Eliot?”

He replied: “I’m fine, Sophie. Just didn’t want to lead a group of armed mobster to our hotel room when their goal is to kill me and all my associates.”

“They’re coming to kill us?” Hardison’s squeaky voice came through the speaker.

“Not if they don’t know I’m with you,” Eliot assured him, “which is why I’m not at the hotel right now. I think I’ve shaken them off, but just in case I’m taking a long way round. Probably won’t come through the doors.”

Thenhe tuned them out again. It might be rude and he heard they were still asking him all sorts of questions, but he wasn’t in the mood to answer. He had other things to focus on and the last thing he wanted was to tell them why there was a hit on his head from this particular mobster.

Going through the city over the roof, he saw a few familiar stances and haircuts stationed at public places where he would hide, as well as at the hotels and he knew he had made the right decision to take this route.

Mentally he was trying to figure out why Mikhail was here of all places talking with their mark. It could be that he was laundering money and their mark having a connection with the mob could both help and be an issue. He could get into witness protection in turn for information, but it was also proof that his business wasn’t clean, even if they had wanted to get him for the stealing of company funds that screwed over his employees’ safety.

But that was not his business to think about, but Nate’s. He would wait for what the man had to say about this development, but in order to do that, he needed to get back to the hotel.

There were also “guards” at the entrance of their hotel, but the team was only on the fourth floor and while they weren’t close to the fire escape, Eliot could get up high and then go side wards over the ridge to their window.

He gave Hardison a heart attack when he got at the window. They hadn’t left it open, much to his chagrin, but were luckily there to open it for him and it was better not to have a weakness in the defense, so he couldn't blame them.

“What the hell, man,” Hardison said. “Give someone a warning before you go around showing up in front of the window. Did you even have safety or something? We’re up high. You could have fallen to your death, Eliot.”

“Yeah and if I had gone through the front door, I would have been shot,” he pointed out tiredly from where he was lying on the floor.

Parker was looking out the window and smiled: “Oeh, that’s a good climbing ridge indeed.”

“Woman!” Hardison exclaimed, while Eliot said: “We could do without the attention to our room, Parker, maybe next time.” She looked sad and glanced over one more time, before closing the window with a pout.

“Care to explain what happened?” Nate asked as he leaned over him. He did that face where he attempted innocence, but failed.

“Got recognized by someone who’s sort of actively trying to kill me,” Eliot replied with what they already knew.

“Sort of actively?” Sophie asked and Eliot was glad he could explain something not that bad to them instead of the other stuff. “Yeah, there’s a difference between saying, ‘hey if you manage to kill this person and prove it you get money,’ and ‘I am hiring you to kill this person within a time frame.’ Mikhail is the former. If I die, he would be happy, but he’s not putting extra resources in finding me and eliminating me.”

“And why would be be happy if you’re dead?” Fucking Nate always sticking his nose everywhere.

“I met him once,” Eliot wasn’t giving him shit.

“Would I be correct in assuming that the meeting ended in a loss on his end?” Nate replied.

“Maybe.” He was neither confirming or denying, not if there was no explicit reason. He hadn’t felt bad about the blow to Mikhail’s organization. It hadn’t been the worst he’d done and Mikhail had a smuggling ring of sex workers and that had been awful to find.

“Okay, so we know Fernsby has connections to the Russian mob,” Nate thought out loud. “So, he’s not only stealing money from his employees, but laundering dirty money as well. If we can tie those together then we’re set.”

“Mikhail has a weakness for brunettes,” Eliot informed him, not telling him how he got that tidbit of knowledge. “He also likes gambling.”

Nate got a glint in his eye as he looked to Sophie, who smiled back. Of course those two would have a plan without needing to communicate.

“You’re out for the rest of the con,” Nate told him. “Can’t have you risk the entire thing if you’re recognized.”

“What? No!” Eliot sat up. “I need to be there to have your back. With the Russians it’s only going to get more dangerous. I’m not leaving you to your fate with those people, they’re dangerous, Nate. This isn’t just some cushy billionaire anymore.”

“And what if he gets suspicious of Sophie because of you, what will you do then, Eliot?” Nate shot back. “I’m not saying you need to stay here, but I am saying you need to keep out of sight. You’re with Hardison in Lucille.”

Eliot wanted to protest, wanted to be closer to the danger in case it went to shit, he wanted to be there when a mistake from his past came back, but he couldn't argue with Nate’s logic and sometimes he hated that about the man.

So, he found himself watching the screens in Lucille as Sophie tried to get Mikhail to make a gamble on her company, to ditch Fernsby, because he was doing it without him and leaving him out of the profits.

He was filled with jittery energy, but so far so good.

“Hey, Eliot,” Hardison opened. “What’s it like, you know, to have a hit on your head? I mean, I’m wanted in some countries, but that’s just boring government stuff, not actual people, like persons, wanting me dead personally, you know.”

“Are you really asking me what it’s like when someone wants you killed?” Eliot asked him.

“I guess,” Hardison shrugged, trying not to look like he wanted to know the answer and failing miserably.

“It’s not that different from being wanted by the government, I suppose,” Eliot finally answered, surprising Hardison. “You just gotta watch out for different things and hope no one is desperate enough for cash to go after you. I have a good enough reputation that hardly anyone tries, but I’ve had periods where I had multiple people on my trail across a dozen countries. It was exhausting, but I get it. Kill me and you can make a lot of people with a lot of money happy.”

“Wait, hold on, reverse and repeat,” Hardison said. “A lot of people?”

“Yeah,” Eliot replied, didn’t Hardison know this? “I got more than one hit on my head. I think it’s five. Used to be six, but one of them died and the bounty fell through. Though I never knew if that one English guy put one on my head as well. And of course, the countries, but those are always lazy about it, so I don’t worrry too much about those.”

“What the fuck, man.”

Eliot didn’t see the big deal. He had done a lot to deserve it and he had learned to live with it. He hadalways kept one eye open anyway.

He focused back on the screen, despite the hiccup earlier with him, the con ran smoothly on its new course and Sophie was phenomenal as he pitted the two guys against one another, making them sell each other out in the end.

Nate was there with the police and both were arrested with illegal cash on their hands and a lot of bank records detailing their dirty schemes as well as showing the abysmal circumstances of the workers that had gone unaddressed in favor of laundering money.

Later when they were sitting in the bar, Nate turned to him and asked: “Any more of that we should be worried about?”

Before Eliot could answer, Hardison had jumped in: “Apparently between five and six more times.”

“No, between four and five,” Eliot corrected. “Mikhail is no longer on the list, but honestly we couldn't have predicted this and there are too many bad guys I’ve known, double crossed, worked for or left that are still out there. We can’t account for all of them. I’ll try to be aware of which marks could have ties to other’s I’ve known, but you don’t get to be good in my line of work without enemies.”

Nate wanted to say something else, but Sophie was quicker. “I’m not keeping track of all the people I have grifted either, Nate,” she said. “We all have a past and you’re not harping me about that or Parker on all she’s stolen. Just because Eliot’s past is a bit different, doesn’t mean we can treat it differently in our team.”

Eliot didn’t fully agree with the comparison. His enemies we’re not the same and one of them coming back would be worse than it was for others.

Still, he couldn't bring himself to disagree with her. Not right now.

He thought of all the people he killed, all the families he’d left behind with one member less. He thought of Moreau and the horrible things he’d done for that man. He thought of the US Army that had turned him into a killer and set him loose on foreign soil for the first time.

And he thought of his team. Of how glad he was he knew them and how they made him better and didn’t force him to be a person he hated. How much they meant to him and how badly he didn’t want to loose that.

So he stayed quiet and let Sophie defend him, hoping his past would not come back like that again.

~~

A/N:

Sorry that the con is kinda vague, I only had the ‘the mark/someone there has a hit on Eliot and he needs to run’ and no clear plan on running the con in the background. Hope it was still enjoyable :D

[master-sass-blast]

Children of the Gods: Part Three, Chapter One.

AT LONG LAST, THE PLOT FICS ARE BACK, BAY-BEE!!! AND B O Y ARE WE KICKING OFF WITH A DOOZY!!!

As you can see by the title: this is chapter one of three for this fic; I had to chop it up due to length.

Also, this fic as a whole makes for my 100th part of the CHC! I feel like I should do something to celebrate. Let me know if y’all have any suggestions.

Summary: It's been months since anyone's seen or heard of Allison Ricci. At last, you think the storm might be over. 

And then Karen Page gets kidnapped again.

Pairing(s): Piotr Rasputin x Reader, Nathan Summers x Wade Wilson, and Frank Castle x Karen Page.

Rating: M for kidnapping, attempted murder, attempted suicide, canon-typical violence, gun violence, and depictions of injury. Like I said, we’re kicking off with a doozy.

Word Count: 4.9k.

Set after “Children of the Gods: Part Two.”

Taglist: @marvel-is-perfection, @chromecutie, @super-darkcloudstudent, @girl-obsessed-with-things, @leo-writer, @emma-frxst, @sadstone-s

There’s no mention or sighting of Allison for nearly six months. Every trail you had for her before goes stone cold. The apartment is cleared out and abandoned. She doesn’t show up in the fighting rings, and even Karen and Frank don’t report anyone following them.

You start to wonder if she died for good this time. That maybe she revived and got herself and her mentor out, but didn’t survive after that.

(You wonder who’ll bury her body, if she’ll be lain to rest next to her family or in a random patch of ground somewhere.)

The storm seems to be over.

And then Karen gets kidnapped again.

***

Wade and Nathan are the ones that technically call it in –by showing up on your doorstep with Frank in tow.

“Allison’s back,” Nate says when your eyes bug out of your head. “Figured Xavier would want to have his people try and round her up, rather than there being an issue with mutant control.”

You blink rapidly, then nod. “Uh… yeah. Let me call Piotr.”

***

The perks of being on a technically-special-law-enforcement team with fancy jets: you can get to the scene a hell of a lot faster than conventional authorities.

You, Wade, Nathan, Frank, and Piotr meet up with Illyana, Mikhail (the two Rasputin siblings are there to “assist” with Allison’s specific powers, considering how things went last time), and Neena in the mall parking lot. After a brief rundown of the plan –get the civilians and Karen out of harm’s way, then detain Allison before the actual cops show up—you all split up and head in through the four major entry points.

The mall is packed when you walk in –go figure, it’s a weekend. Shoppers stroll from shop to shop, vendors at the pop up stands call out to passersby, music plays on the overhead speakers.

“The picture the kid sent me had a pretzel stand in the background,” Frank growls through the speaker in your earpiece.

“Food court, then,” Neena replies –in perfect, crystal clear audio, no less. “The kiosk map doesn’t show too many food stands outside there.”

Illyana tugs on your sleeve and directs you to the left. “We are close.”

You dodge to avoid a cluster of shoppers. “There’s a lot of people here. If she –if she has… weapons, like last time—”

“We’ll deal with it,” Nathan growls over the comms system before softly reprimanding Wade for trying to detour into Hot Topic. “Our goal right now is to capture Allison before she escapes again.”

“Civilian lives still matter,” Piotr insists before putting a hand on the small of your back to usher you around a “Wet Floor: Caution” sign. He’s armored down, but he’s wearing his X-Men suit under a black sweatshirt. “We must consider their well-being.”

“And if we tell them they’re in danger, we’ll make a panicked stampede, and that won’t help us or anyone else,” Nate says tersely. “Just stay calm. Our best bet is to try and talk Allison down without alerting anyone around us.”

“If she tries to hurt Karen—" Frank grits out.

“We’ll cross that bridge if and when we get there,” Nathan declares, tone permitting no room for argument.

The lot of you round another corner, passing by a shop that boasts having “all the latest console games at all the best prices” and a Victoria’s Secret—

“I see her,” Neena says. You hear thuds her footsteps pick up, and a second later you see her jog around a Starbucks stand and head down the hall to the food court. “Twelve o’clock, dead center of the court.”

Twenty meters away, sitting at a little food court table, are Allison and Karen; the former is dressed in all black, leaning back in her seat while staring down the latter –who, all things considered, doesn’t seem too much worse for wear.

Frank inhales sharply, then appears through the crowd a few minutes later, walking so fast he’s practically running. “Too many people here.”

“We’ll talk her down,” Nathan says, rounding the corner nearest the Macy’s with Wade.

Illyana tenses, then grabs your arm before breaking into a run. “We need to move. She has seen Castle.”

Sure enough, Allison’s scowling. She shoves her chair back hard enough to knock it into the table behind her; she stands, ignoring the complaints from the nearby diners. Her eyes start glowing blue as she glares at Frank.

“Ah, shitfarts,” Wade grumbles.

“Everyone down!” Nathan bellows before yanking Frank back and erecting a telekinetic shield.

A massive shockwave of blue energy erupts across the food court, sending shoppers and tables alike flying into the air. The glass, domed skylight over the food court shatters, raining shards of windows and broken lights down on the panicked, shrieking bystanders.

Illyana erects a shield before the shockwave can hit the rest of you. She grits her teeth as debris and a few of the shoppers closest to the epicenter bounce off it, tumbling along the tiled floor. “Still think we will ‘talk her down?’”

No, you think, gulping when you realize that some of the blast victims aren’t getting up. I think we’re well past that.

“Karen!” Frank charges towards Allison, shotgun –loaded with bean bag rounds—in hand. “Get down!”

Karen dives behind a toppled table.

Illyana charges at Allison, clothes shimmering as they morph into black body armor. She leaps over an overturned table, then extends her hand and fires a blue bolt of magical energy at the younger girl.

Allison ducks. She stumbles briefly, but quickly rights herself. She grits her teeth, then screams as she unleashes a volley of azure-colored energy blasts at Illyana.

“Go! Get out!” Piotr waves a few stragglers –with their phones out to film the ruckus, go figure—away. He ducks another round of fire from Allison, then armors up and strides towards her. “That is enough—” 

Allison whips her head to the side, then back at Illyana. She quickly fires a blast at Illyana –successfully knocking the older girl off her feet, then turns and unleashes a beam of blue energy square into your husband’s chest.

Piotr sails into the food court’s Subway stand with a groan and a resounding clang.

You cram down the urge to run after your husband –he’ll be fine, he’s taken a lot worse before—and focus on the fight at hand.

Nate, Wade, and Frank are pinned down; they’re using some trash can stands as cover, but Allison’s got enough firepower to keep them from risking getting any closer.

Piotr and Illyana are both down for the time being; your husband’s tangled up with the condiments trays, while the youngest Rasputin’s on the floor, groaning.

Neena’s working the perimeter, getting shoppers out while setting up to flank Allison from behind.

And Mikhail’s… disappeared—

No, there he is, you think when you see him blink into existence. You let out a short sigh of relief when you see him take Karen’s hand and teleport to a safer distance, then do a short run before launching yourself in the air. Alright, let’s get the boys some cover.

Allison’s head jerks back as she follows your trajectory. Her eyes glow, bits of blue smoke wafting off at the corners, and then she fires another bolt of energy at you from her eyes.

You flit out of the line of fire, then fling an arc of wind at her.

Allison topples onto the tile floor. She yelps, then disappears into the ground to avoid being ensnared in one of Illyana’s spells. She pops back up a few feet away moments later—

Just in time to see Wade duck behind an overturned table.

Your brother snarls, cursing and panicking when Allison renders the table to a pile of ash with a flick of her wrist. “Something tells me that murder baby’s leveled up!”

“Gee!” You holler back. “What was your first hint!”

“Go!” Nathan hollers when Allison uses a bolt of magical energy strong enough to rip through several store fronts. He waves Karen and Frank off. “Get out of here! We’ve got this!”

Allison whirls. She bares her teeth when she sees Frank and Karen escaping, then slaps her palm against the food court floor.

Brilliant, bright streaks of azure energy zip along the floor, twinkling against the tiles before disappearing a few feet ahead of Karen and Frank.

The floor –from edge to edge of the hall, leaving no area untouched—crumple into ash, leaving a pit more than twenty feet deep. The ground between the doors behind Allison and the girl in question evaporate as well, along with the spaces in front of the emergency exits.

“Just when I left my rock climbing gear at home,” Wade grumbles, sounding somewhat winded.

Allison charges towards Karen and Frank, rendering tables, chairs, and random debris to ash as she runs to get a straight shot. She knocks Wade off his feet with via chucking a bolt of energy at him, forces you to duck behind a Pizza Hut counter with another one—

And then runs smack into Mikhail when he teleports right in front of her.

Mikhail wraps his arms around her, then leans back so he clears her feet off the ground. He stumbles a little while Allison rages and snarls. “Got her!”

Allison swears –then twists and drives her heel into Mikhail’s crotch.

Mikhail drops. He curls in on himself, groaning. “Kroshechnyy kon'… O Bozhe, moi yaytsa.”

Allison tumbles to the ground. She dodges more wind strikes from you, then lets out a feral snarl as she charges towards Frank and Karen.

Frank yanks Karen behind him, then shouts as he barrels towards Allison.

He has no game plan. You can see it in his eyes.

You vault yourself over the Subway counter, intent on tackling Allison, or knocking her over with a wind slice, or –something.

Before you can do anything, a blue circle forms around Allison, glowing brightly before expanding into a domed shield.

Allison skitters to a stop. Her dark curls jerk and bounce as she looks around wildly. She seethes, then launches a blast of energy at the shield, only for it to bounce off the veil of energy harmlessly.

A few feet away, Illyana lowers her hand. She smirks. “There. Much better.”

“Will –will that hold her?” Karen asks, voice rough and shaky.

“Until we can find way to transport, da.” Illyana reaches up her sleeve, then pulls out a spell book. “I have potent sleep spell. Will take but moment to find proper runes for casting.”

Behind you, Piotr groans as he finally disentangles his head from a –now very crushed—oven. He staggers, shakes himself, then turns and sags with relief when he sees Allison in the shield bubble. “Oh. Good.”

“Are you okay?” You jog over to him as he armors down and all but collapses into a nearby booth. “Babe? What’s wrong?”

“Ears are ringing.” He groans and clutches his head in his hands. “I hit my head very hard.”

You rub his shoulders, reassuring yourself as much as you are him. You can only imagine where else he’s hurt if Allison managed to concuss him while in defense mode. All you want now is to get back to Xavier’s so your husband can get the medical treatment he needs. “Don’t worry. Everything’s going to be—”

The ground shakes.

You steady yourself on the booth opposite Piotr –then suck a breath between your teeth when it happens again, harder than before. “Shit.” You whip your gaze back to Illyana. “What’s—”

You see Illyana, teeth gritted and eyes glowing blue as she holds both her hands towards the shield. 

You see Nathan, Neena, and everyone else slowly backing away from the dome of energy.

And, inside the containment bubble, you see Allison, flinging attack after attack at the walls of the shield.

Your eyes widen when you watch Allison unleash a sustained burst of energy at the shield walls. Fuck.

Glowing, white cracks form along the shield.

Oh holy fuck.

“Get down!” Neena screams.

Piotr all but tackles you –despite his head injury—to the floor just as the shield gives way. He armors back up, then covers your body with his.

Magic energy explodes through the food court, flinging the remaining tables and chairs into the walls. All the windows –in the skylights, the automatic doors, and the nearby shops—blow out, spraying glass everywhere. The ground shakes, cracking and dissipating into clouds of ash in various places.

Allison crawls out of the crater left by her explosion. She pants, shoulders heaving with each breath. Her mouth tugs into a fierce scowl; her eyes glow so brightly that they’re almost white.

Cracks form on the ground next to her, glowing white and smoking. They widen into gaping holes, with vortexes of energy swirling inside them.

And then these… beasts crawl out of them. Snarling, slobbering monsters with fangs the size of your arm. Their claws shatter the tiles underneath their massive paws. Their eyes glow red, not unlike hellfire. They almost look like wolves, if wolves had crossbred with the Hulk and had ichor and tar dripping off their skin.

Your jaw drops. “What the…”

Mikhail lets out a whoop. “Puppies!”

“Do puppies normally look like they want to turn humans into sausages?” Wade yelps, skittering out of reach when one of the hellhounds lets out a howl that sends a plume of fire into the air.

Illyana swears up a storm. She flicks her wrist, summoning the Soul Sword to her hand.

Before she can do anything else, though, one of the hellhounds charges her, knocking her off her feet and into one of the nearby shops.

“Snezhinka!” Piotr shoves himself to the feet, armors up, and barrels off after his sister –with Mikhail hot on his heels.

The other hellhound stalks towards Neena, Wade, and Nathan. It growls, acid dripping from its teeth and onto the ground, corroding whatever it touches.

“Should’ve worn the brown pants,” Wade groans. “Okay –anyone got a plan?”

“Duck!” Neena shouts when the hound unleashes another fiery howl.

You don’t duck –or run, or attack, or anything useful. No, you freeze, torn between going after your husband and siblings-in-law, helping protect Wade, Neena, and Nate, or trying to get Karen and Frank away from Allison.

Speaking of which…

Allison is lobbing bolts of energy at Frank and Karen; she’s closing in on them fast, quickly cornering them against the crater she’d made between the food court and the rest of the wall.

Frank whisks Karen behind his back. “Hey, hey, hey!” He extends a hand towards Allison in some sort of desperate attempt to get her to stop. “Just calm the fuck down!”

“Go to hell!” She rears back for another attack –and there’s no cover, nothing for Frank or Karen to hide behind or grab onto—

The choice makes itself for you.

You jump over the booth Piotr had pulled both of you behind and whip a wall of wind at her.

The blast launches her off her feet. She shrieks, sailing behind a pile of rubble before disappearing from view.

“Come on!” You leap over to Karen and Frank. The sounds of the hellhounds are too close for comfort –and, judging by Wade’s shrieks, the general amounts of swearing, and Piotr’s groans of exertion, the beasts are winning. “Let’s get out of here.” You get an arm around Karen, then start to put one around Frank, intent on lifting them over the crater and flying them out of here—

There’s a scream, and then a thin, whip-like strand of blue energy wraps around Frank’s neck.

His eyes go comically wide as he flies backwards. He lets out a choked shout, then groans –guttural and rough—when he hits the ground.

Allison stalks towards him. Her teeth are bared, and she looks entirely done with the situation. …And then she pulls a knife out of her jacket pocket.

You level another blast of air in Allison’s direction.

She manages to deflect it with a shield, then fires a volley of energy bolts at you and Karen.

Karen dodges.

You don’t.

You careen into the crater, narrowly dodging exposed bits of steel bar reinforcement and some leaking water lines before hitting rock hard dirt. You grunt, wind going out of you as you crumple against the ground. Fuck.

The hellhounds are still snarling nearby. You can still hear their ghoulish howls, accompanied by the crackling roar of the fire they unleash with each snap. Above the hellish din, Wade’s swearing and shrieking about his ass, Nate’s firing his future gun, Illyana and Mikhail are arguing—

Dammit. You shove yourself to your feet, panting and swearing the entire time. Once you’re upright, you launch yourself to the mall floor—

Which is when a new sound makes itself known to you.

Frank is screaming. That in and of itself isn’t unusual –he does it quite often—but now he’s doing it on his back, hands wrapped around Allison’s forearms, trying to keep her from sinking her knife blade into his right eye.

You’d think it wouldn’t be much of a fight –but she’s winning. She’s using her powers for leverage against Frank’s strength. You wouldn’t think a teenager with arms like noodles would have a shot, but Frank’s arms are shaking as Allison slowly, inexorably, pushes the knife towards his head. 

Frank shouts –and Allison shrieks right back at him; she sounds like a pissed off barn owl.

You stumble forward, wincing and collapsing to your knees when your left leg screams in protest. Shit.

Allison bares her teeth at Frank –and then she freezes. Her body goes stiff. Her eyes roll into the back of her head –and then she collapses against the ground, limp as a ragdoll.

Karen Page stands behind her, stun gun in hand. She lets out a hard breath when Allison drops against the ruined tile floor, then turns the stun gun off and reaches to help Frank up. “You okay?”

He grunts by way of response.

Allison starts squirming against the ground, trying to push herself upright.

She yanks the barbs and wires connecting her to Karen’s stun gun out of her shoulder, seething and snarling all the while. She staggers to her feet, lurching wildly as she tries to regain control over her body. She whirls, dark curls flinging back and forth with abandon.

Frank snaps into action. He immediately throws Karen behind him, forcing her back and away as Allison storms towards them. He holds one hand out, keeping some space between him and the teen. His gaze snaps back and forth, searching wildly for some sort of obstacle to put in her path or some sort of cover to duck behind—

There’s a dull thud, and then Allison lets out a choked shout as she tumbles to the ground.

Behind her, standing in the wreckage of one of the shops, Neena lowers the repression cuff gun your dad created to help capture rogue mutants.

You bend over, panting as you brace your hands against your knees. “Cool. Awesome. Holy shit.”

The snarling of the hellhounds disappears, too; the only sign they were there to begin with are the mounds of ash they leave behind. 

Slowly, your dad, Wade, and the Rasputin siblings come staggering out of the surrounding shops.

You sidle up next to Piotr, who’s already armoring down and looks beat to hell. You nod at him when he nods to you, then focus on the scene at hand.

Allison crouches on the floor. She snarls, yanking at the repression cuff on her wrist.

“Okay –ow, fuck!” Wade cringes as he resets his dislocated arm, then limps towards Allison. “Alright, murder baby. I’ve been chewed on, used as a tug toy, had a shop light fall on my nuts, and I’m pretty sure my third cervical vertebra is never going to feel whole again. Your whole ‘vengeance blood lust’ was pretty cute, but I draw the line at spinal reconfiguration. Time for you to head over to Xavier’s Home for Extraordinary Children and do group fucking therapy like the rest of the X-Dweebs.”

Allison bares her teeth at him, then kicks him square in the crotch.

Wade shrieks, doubling over and dropping to the floor. He curls into a fetal position, whimpering over his “dangly unmentionables.”

“Enough, Allison,” Nathan grits out. He uses his telekinesis to drag her across the floor, steadily sliding her towards him. “It’s done. Let it go.”

“Eat –eat shit!” Allison scrabbles against the floor, searching for a handhold –then snags a loose gun (most likely dropped by Mikhail at some point) and fires at Nathan. She struggles to her feet when he ducks –breaking the telekinetic hold—then whirls and aims at Frank.

“No!” Karen flings herself in front of Frank –which results in a lot of protesting from him—and holds out a hand. “Allison, no! Killing him isn’t what you want!”

“Like hell it is!”

“No, it isn’t. He’ll be dead and you’ll be in jail, and you’ll still have all your anger with no outlet for it,” Karen insists, voice ragged. She fixes Allison with a hard stare. “Let it go, Allison. Killing him won’t change anything.”

Allison sneers. “Fuck you. Like this is about ‘change!’ My family’s never coming back, and I have to live with that every single day. I have to remember waking up to them being gone, to their brains on the walls, to his—” she whips the gun wildly to point at Frank “—stupid graffiti tag on the floor. No, fuck you! I’m the one who has to go through the nightmares and the loneliness and the grief and has to bury my family! I don’t care that this won’t change anything. I’ll feel good for five seconds, and that’s better than the past few months have been!”

Your stomach clenches. Shit.

Frank gulps. Eyes shining, he steps out in front of Karen –even though she tries to stop him—and puts himself right in Allison’s line of sight. “You want me dead? Do it.”

“Frank,” Nathan says, voice sharp with warning.

“Pull the trigger,” Frank says, stepping closer as Allison’s hands shake. “Take me out. I killed your family. I did the same thing to you that happened to me. I’m a hypocrite; I deserve it.”

Allison seethes, body trembling as Frank slowly approaches her. “I will! I’ll do it!”

“Pull the trigger,” Frank says, voice soft and thick with emotion. “Do it, kid. Take me down if you want it so bad.”

Wade pushes himself off the ground. “Castle, I swear to God—”

Allison growls –and lowers her gun. She sobs, shoulders slumping. She falls to her knees, body shaking with each gasping breath she takes. “You couldn’t just… kill me? Do me the favor of not having to live without them?”

Frank flinches, Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallows reflexively. “I don’t do shit like that, kid.”

Allison looks up at him –and her gaze sharpens. She smiles, sharp and manic. “Oh. So that’s what it takes to break you.”

And then she put the muzzle of the gun under her chin.

“No!” You fling yourself at Allison, colliding with her before she can pull the trigger. You tackle her to the ground, wrenching the gun out of her hands before hugging her tight against your chest. “No, sweetheart. No. No, no, no—”

Allison shrieks. Tears stream down her face once more. “Just let me die! Please! Why won’t any of you just let me die!”

You shush her gently, rocking her back and forth. You cast your gaze over your shoulder, looking to Piotr.

He’s scrubbing at his face with his hand. He meets your gaze, eyes widening before he shrugs, as though to say, “I don’t know how to handle this, either.”

“Okay.” Nathan crosses the distance to you and Allison. He crouches behind her, cuffing her hands behind her back before helping her and you stand. “Alright, kiddo. Let’s… let’s get you some rest. Okay?”

“I –I need Ar-Artemis,” Allison sobs. Her body heaves with each step she takes. “I need Artemis, I need her—”

“Okay, munchkin,” Wade says as he walks Allison in the direction of the jet. “We’ll get her called for you. Do you have her number? Anyone else you want us to call?”

��My law-lawyer.”

“That checks out.”

You hang back, letting Wade take over. You feel fried; pain aside, your mind is utterly void, a swirling mass of black and gibberish and too much and screaming and—

Neena hooks her arm around yours. She smiles at you when you look up at her, then gently ushers you after Wade and the others. “Come on. Let’s get back to the mansion.”

***

“I’m gonna fucking murder you, Castle!”

You wince as another angry shriek bounces off the walls of the jet’s cabin. You’re sitting on one of the benches, injured leg propped up on your husband’s lap.

Allison snaps and rages as Mikhail, Neena, and Wade try to buckle her in; somewhere during the walk to the jet, she’d switched from broken weeping to insurmountable rage once more.

Next to you, Frank keeps his eyes trained on the ground. He’s got an arm around Karen, who’s watching Allison in cautious silence.

“You’re fucking dead! I will hang you up by your fucking intestines! I’ll put your fucking sniper scope up your ass, you emo wannabe piece of shit!”

Wade snickers. “‘Emo wannabe piece of shit.’ Good one.”

Now that you’re up close to her, you can see just… how not well she’s doing. Dark bags hang under her eyes, stark against her pallid skin. Her cheeks and neck are gaunt –and, under her dark clothes and slapdash body armor, you suspect the rest of her body tells a similar story of grief and an inability to cope.

Who could cope, with everything she’s been through? The only person in this jet who has a similar understanding is the one that put her family in the ground –and he did that to cope with losing his own family and being shot in the head, so that pretty much says how well he’s doing, technically speaking.

Piotr squeezes you gently when you sigh. “We are almost home.”

Not close enough, you think as Allison all but foams at the mouth while she hurls insult after insult at Frank.

Wade rears back, shaking his hand. “Not the middle one! I need that one! Motherfucker!”

Allison spits his finger out of her mouth. She plants her feet, then tries to launch herself at Frank again.

“Enough!” You stand, careful to keep your weight off your bad leg. “You’re in a jet and you don’t have use of your hands. Either let yourself be buckled in or we’re sedating you!”

“This is bullshit,” Allison growls, even as she lets Neena and Mikhail sit her down and strap her in. Her eyes never leave Frank. “He’s the one who killed my family, and I’m the one in handcuffs.”

You march over to Allison as best you can. You’re not sure what your face looks like right now, but given the way she shrinks back you’re certain you look pissed. You plant your hands on the wall behind her, one on either side of her head, then lean in until you’re almost nose to nose with her. “You’re handcuffed,” you spit out between gritted teeth, “because you tried to kill yourself in that mall. The restraints are for your own safety; they have nothing to do with Frank.”

“But he—”

“Isn’t in our jurisdiction,” you tell her, voice hard. “We picked you up because you’re a mutant engaging in criminal activity. It was either us or the DMC, and if it’d been them, you’d be in the Icebox or dead. Frank only came because you kidnapped his girlfriend –and, frankly, it’s reasonable that he’d want to come along to save her.”

The dark-eyed teen pouts up at you. “But –my family—”

“Is gone,” you finish, voice softer now. You lean back a little so you’re not so in her space. “And I’m sorry you lost them, Allison. I really am. What Frank did was wrong. But you can’t keep on this path. You’re endangering yourself, and you’re endangering the rest of the community by reinforcing the belief that mutants are dangerous through your actions.” You straighten up. “If you don’t calm down, we’re going to have to lock you in one of the changing rooms until we’re at the mansion. Do you want that?”

She glowers, but shakes her head.

“Neither do I—”

“We can go into one of the changing rooms.” Karen stands, and Frank stands with her. She flashes you a sympathetic, appreciative smile when you look at her. “We’ll be fine in there.”

You heave an internal sigh of relief when Neena ushers Frank and Karen into one of the changing rooms, then slides the door shut.

Allison glares after Frank. She sniffs, chin trembling. “He killed my family. I woke up and –and they were gone.”

“I know, sweetheart.” You smooth her hair away from her face as she starts crying again. “I know.

“I want Artemis,” she sobs, skinny shoulders shaking with each breath she takes. “My phone –on my phone—”

“We’ll make sure we call her for you,” you reassure her as you stroke her hair. You grimace as she collapses –as much as the seatbelt lets her—against you, weeping against your neck. You hold her as best you can, trying to ignore the twinges in your leg or the creeping sense of ‘we’re in over our fucking heads… again’ crawling up your spine. “I know, sweetheart. I know.”

[ghstandpucks]

Cutting Edge ~ Nathan MacKinnon Ch.11

Hi everyone! I hope you all had a great past week and a great Christmas if you celebrated! I am super excited about this chapter and the next one! This is a part that I’ve had planned out since the beginning of writing this series so I hope you all enjoy it! Let me know what you think! Also let me know if you would like to be added to the tags! Have a happy and safe New Years in a few days <3

Cutting Edge Master List

You were seated on a plane next to Nate headed for Pittsburg and the NHL All-Stars. Since you were the only two going from the Avs, travel arrangements were made for the both of you to arrive together. The media team also gave you all the information for their Instagram account so you could have an “All-Star Take Over”. Openly being able to spend time with Nate and post about it, you would take it. You posted a video on the story once you landed of Nate putting all your bags onto a luggage cart, him looking a mixed of amused and annoyed as he tried to balance both of your bags. You were not a light traveler, and your skating bag plus his made for a bulky set up. Comments started to pour in with excited fans about the weekend’s events, and a few laughing at his expression. There were a few comments over a soft smile he sent you as you poked fun at him in the video, but you ignored those knowing that the exchange was harmless enough.

The hotel was packed and you were feeling slightly overwhelmed. Media was being set up for later that evening, different players and coaches were checking in, and you all of a sudden felt incredibly small surrounded by large bodies. You weren’t used to all the fanfare in the place you were staying. The Olympics had been insane, but the cameras and reporters were kept out of the hotels. Nate noticed your change in deminer and knocked his elbow into you, earning a quick smile as you stood a bit closer to him. He wished he could reach out for you, but he knew this was not the place. As you were about to check in, you heard your name being yelled behind you. You turned around and found Jeremy making his way over to you. Running up to him, you both collided in a fit of giggles. “My child! How are you?” Jeremy said as he pulled away.

           “Good! This is all just a little crazy though. How are you?”

           “Can’t complain. Happy to see you again,” you gave him another hug as Nate walked over to the two of you, holding out a room key.

           “I was able to check you in too,” he said, then turned his attention to Jeremy. “Nice to finally meet you in person Jeremy,” he introduced himself.    

           “Yes, I feel like I know you already from all those facetimes the past few weeks,” Jeremy chuckled and shook his hand. He was referring to the times you were helping him put together his routine, and Nate would hold your phone as you showed Jeremy the choreography. You talked a bit more, then headed toward your rooms. Nate told you he would meet you in the lobby before heading over to the media event that was going to ‘capture everyone arriving.’ Basically, it was like a red-carpet event with sports reporters. You learned that the figure skaters were all on one floor, and were thankful Jeremy was staying next door. There was actually a door that connected your rooms, and as you hung up your clothes, Jeremey unlocked both sides so he could just make his way through. This was typical of the two of you if you were staying next to each other. Bradie also ended up being across the hall, and made her way over to get ready with you and Jeremy.

           You curled your hair into a soft, beachy wave and kept your makeup noticeable but natural. Bradie helped you zip up your dress and you pinned her blonde hair up into a lose bun. Jeremy waltz backed into your room in a deep purple tux, white collared shirt, and a black bowtie. “You two look absolutely stunning!” he gushed. Bradie was in a floor length red dress with a boat neck line and lace sleeves. You were wearing a ballet pink strapless dress that was fitted on the top, then pooled out into a skirt of tule at your waist and ended mid-calf. The necklace Nate gave you sat daintily at the base of your neck and shimmered in the light. Slipping on your heels and taking one last look in the mirror, your group made way to the lobby.

           Bradie and Jeremy went to find their team members, while you looked around for Nate. Glancing around the room, you finally caught sight of him and made your way over. He was talking with someone, though you weren’t positive who as their back was to you. As you approached though and Nate locked eyes with you, he seemed to forget what he was saying. You looked nothing short of an angel, and he was in absolute aw of you. He just so happened to be talking to Sidney Crosby at the moment, who at first was confused by his friend’s abrupt stop. Sidney followed Nate’s line of vision to you though, and he chuckled. Sid didn’t know about your relationship, but he could guess Nate had feelings for you from the number of times he had mentioned you when they talked, and just by the way he was looking at you now. If he didn’t know any better, he would say his friend was a goner for you.

           As you joined the two of them, you smiled over at Sid. Of course you knew who he was, but you had never been introduced. “Hi, I’m Y/N Y/L/N,” you said, extending your hand.

           “Sidney Crosby, it’s nice to meet you Y/N,” Sid returned your smile and shook your hand. Nate finally snaped out of whatever daze he had been in as you spoke, your voice drawing is attention back to the present. You smiled up at him, and Sid tried to hide a laugh as Nate’s neck and face turned slightly red. “Well, if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to find my coach,” Sid said.

           “Oh, Gracie is right over there,” you said, pointing over to the blonde who was speaking with none other than Ashley Wagner. You loved Gracie Gold, but she was too sweet to notice the undermining Ashley likes to do. Your hand subconsciously went to your necklace, making sure it was flipped the correct way. Sid thanked you and excused himself, leaving you and Nate. Looking up at him, you smiled and went to fix his tie that was slightly off-center. “Well don’t you look nice,” you whispered so only he would hear.

           “You look amazing,” he matched your tone. You blushed under his gaze, noticing he had on the watch you had given him for Christmas. With a smile, he offered you his arm and you placed your hand in the crook of his elbow, allowing him to lead you to the media event.

           For about the next two hours, you answered questions and posed for pictures. Some of the interviews were individual, others asked you to join in with Nate. You were able to take a few pictures with him, careful not to stand too close or lean too much into him. It was fun being able to laugh together though when asked a few ridiculous questions like who the better skater was. The both of you said the other, then as he chirped you about it you poked fun at him right back. Your banter seemed to make for a fun interview, as you noticed some reporters kept you around longer than others. Nate was finished before you, as you had been trailing down the line behind him. Once you were finished with your last interview, you walked back into the hotel lobby and looked around for him. Upon not finding him, you took your phone out of your clutch and checked. Fortunately he had text you, telling you to meet him on the roof.  

           Stepping out of the elevator, the rooftop played host to a garden and a few fire pits spread out. Outdoor lights were strung above which made for an almost fairytale like scene. As you rounded a corner that had another, more secluded fire place and a view that over looked the city, you found Nate sitting there. He looked over his shoulder at the sound of your heels, and got out of his seat meeting you halfway. “Why didn’t you grab a jacket?” He asked in a low register, immediately taking his suit jacket off and placing it around your shoulders.

           “I didn’t want to keep you waiting,” you said softly, slipping your arms into the sleeves. No one was on the roof, and Nate brought his hands up to cup your cheeks, leaning down to place a sweet kiss on your lips.

           “You look so beautiful,” he simply stated. Your hands went to his and you curled your fingers around them. Smiling up at him, you pulled his hands down and took a step back, using one of his hands to twirl yourself around for him.

           “You like?” you teased with a giggled. Nate chuckled and grabbed at your waist, pulling you up against his chest. His forehead rested on yours as his fingers started to curl into your sides, tickling you.  

           “Very much,” he said as you laughed and tried to squirm away from him. Once he stopped and you calmed down, he led you over to the fire pit and you noticed a pizza box sitting near it. “Thought you might be hungry. I know I am.” You sat down and took a bite of pizza.

           “You’re the best,” you hummed as you both enjoyed your late-night meal. You sat out there a little longer, no one else ever coming up. In your little secluded section, you somehow ended up sitting in Nate’s lap with your back against his chest, his chin resting on top of your head. You talked about nothing in particular, enjoying some peace and time all to yourselves. It was a little past midnight as you started to doze off in Nate’s arms, and he gently woke you so you could head back to your rooms. You had both decided that with media all around this weekend and your rooms around people who would definitely talk if you were caught sneaking into each other’s rooms, it was best to play it safe and stay separately. Before your elevator got to your floor, you leaned up and kissed Nate, then slipped off his jacket. Looking into his blue eyes, you saw an emotion you had never quiet seen before, and it made your heart flutter. “Goodnight Nate,” you whispered as the door opened. Looking around, there was no one to be found, so Nate stalled the elevator for a second.

           “I’ll see you at breakfast tomorrow?” he asked. You smiled and nodded. Tomorrow after a continental breakfast, the players all had ice time for practice if they wanted to. Then the two of you had another media thing to do, then the figure skaters had ice time. Nate smiled softly at you. “Goodnight Coach,” he said for good measure, incase anyone could actually hear you. You stifled a giggle and waved, walking toward your room. And just like he realized you were taking pieces of his heart as you walked away in Dallas after the game, this time Nate was hit hard with a different, but similar realization. He was falling in love with you.    

~ ~ ~

           You were half awake when Jeremy barged into your room and plopped down on the bed next to you. “You obviously haven’t looked at your phone yet today, have you?” he asked, and you stared at him with wide eyes, shaking your head. He took a deep breath and held up his, showing you a clip from Youtube. It was of one of Ashley’s interviews last night, and you were confused as to why Jeremy was showing it to you. About two minutes in to the interview, the reporter asked Ashley what she thought about sharing the ice with you once again. You could visibly see how the question got to her, and braced yourself for the answer. “Well, everyone knows she doesn’t have a quad, and those are big jumps to have now. It’s a wonder how she even won the Olympics without one.” Jeremy stopped the video and you laid there shocked for a moment; she did not just say that!

           “Are you kidding me!” you practically yelled jumping out of bed. “Who does she think she is?! She doesn’t have a quad either! That bitch!” You grabbed your phone and started to look up a different ice rink in the area. Finding one that was only about 15 minutes away and would be more private to practice at than the one that was being used for the All-Stars, you grabbed your tights, skating shorts and leg warmers and walked into your bathroom to change. Upon walking out, you found Jeremy in his skating attire also. “No one had a quad during those Olympics. Only like 3 women have ever even landed one in competition and that was just this past year!” you ranted. Jeremy nodded, slightly worried you were about to combust. “And another thing! I have a quad! I just don’t land it consistently so I kept it out of my routines.” You threw a water bottle from the fridge into your skate bag and grabbed your hotel key. As you started to walk out the door, you turned back to Jeremy who looked like he was unsure of what to do. “Are you coming?”

           “I’ll order the Uber,” he simply said, grabbing his skates and following you out. You quickly ran into the continental breakfast room, spotting Nate. He smiled, then looked completely concerned as he had no idea why you were in your skating clothes when you didn’t have open ice till later that evening. You weren’t sure who he was sitting with, but didn’t care at that moment as you only had beating Ashley at her own game on your brain.

           “I’m going to different rink; I have to work on something. I’ll be back before our media thing,” you said curtly, walking over to the buffet to grab a quick bite to eat. Jeremy handed you a yogurt as he grabbed one for himself, knowing it was better to hand you things at this point instead of asking questions.

           “What’s going on Y/N,” you heard Nate say behind you in a low tone, and you wanted to tell him, you wanted to break down at that moment because you were hurt that Ashley would even say such a thing, but you gave him a soft smile and shook your head.  

           “I don’t want to talk about it here,” you simply stated and he nodded, still looking concerned. He was about to say something when Jeremy cut in.

“Our Uber is a minute away. We need to go,” he said. You picked up an orange juice to go with your yogurt and gave Nate a smile, one which he knew was fake, and started to walk toward the door so you could leave.

           “What happened?” he asked Jeremy who didn’t follow you as he wanted to reassure Nate that he had you and you were going to be fine. He was sure by Nate’s face that he had never seen this side of you before. Gone was the sweet, bubbly Y/N; replaced by someone who was extremely competitive and rightfully pissed off.  

           “Ashley happened. I’ll send you the link. I’m going with her so she doesn’t hurt herself because she’s about to get very upset over a jump. I’ll make sure she’s back on time and in one piece,” Jeremy tried to reassure him.

           “What do you mean? What jump?” Nate asked, confused. He hadn’t seen you struggle with a jump when you practiced in Denver.

           “A quad. You know, four times around in the air? They’re still kind of rare for women in performances but Ashley called her out.”

           “What?” Nate wasn’t sure if he needed to be more upset with Ashley, or worried about you trying to do this jump that sounded impossible in his mind.

           “Don’t worry. If anyone can land a jump out of pure spite and anger, it’s Y/N. It’s how she first lands most of her jumps because she becomes irritated with them. I have to go though, just try not to worry,” Jeremy said, racing out after you as he saw the Uber arriving.  

~ ~ ~

           An hour later Nate was on the ice, but his head was not in it. All he could really think about was how flustered you seemed this morning. He had watched the clip that Jeremy had sent him as soon as he got back to his room after breakfast, and immediately understood your reaction. He wished he could be of more help though, instead of feeling completely out of place in the politics of figure skating. If it were a hockey player, he would just deck him at their next game. Maybe when they played Dallas again….no, he thought, that would just upset you if he picked a fight for no reason.  

           As all of these thoughts were going through his mind, Sid skated over to him, knocking into him jokingly. “What’s going on with you?”

           “Nothing,” Nate shook his head and Sid gave him a look that told him he did not believe that. “Y/N was pissed this morning and now she’s working on this quad jump which sounds impossible and I don’t know what to do. Figure skaters fight differently than us I guess.” Sid wasn’t sure if he wanted to laugh because it sounded ridiculous for Nate to care this much about something that seemed trivial to him, or if he needed to actually try to help his friend through whatever emotion he was trying to process at the moment.

           “We are talking about your coach Y/N, right?”

           “Yeah, my coach,” Nate mumbled, looking down. Sid thought better of his next question at first, but decided to ask it anyway.

           “Is she only a coach to you?” Nate’s eyes shot around quickly, and then realizing it was only him and Sid standing off to the side, he let out a deep breath.

           “She’s my girlfriend. We’ve been dating for a few months but keeping it a secret because she like put this whole program together you know,” Nate admitted quietly, he knew he could trust Sid. The older man nodded, then smiled and chuckled.

           “I could have guessed there was something between you two last night. Good for you man, I won’t say anything. As for her I’m sure she’s fine. I mean, she is an Olympic champion so I’m sure knows what she’s doing.”

           Right as those words came out of his mouth, 15 minutes away you were falling to the ice once more, your knee colliding nastily to the side. You got up and brushed the ice off, knowing that was going to leave a bruise. Jeremy looked at you sympathetically. “Maybe it’s time to stop for the day. You’ve landed a majority of them.” You took your water from him and took a sip, knowing he was right, but also knowing this had to be perfect. Handing the water back you held up your index finger.

           “One more,” you said, skating away and setting up the jump. You were doing a quad flip. With it being your best jump, turning it into a quad was the most logical two years ago. You were just never confident in it, and by the time you were, you had performed for the last time. Setting up the jump, you dug your toe pick in and launched into the air, completing the four rotations and landing in a solid check out.

           “Beautiful!” Jeremy clapped. You skated back over to him with a smile. “Now let’s go so you can get all pretty for media, cause I’m not sure what’s happening with your hair right now,” he said, with a hand motion to your hair.  

           “What’s wrong with my hair?” you asked, half joking and half offended. You knew you probably had tons of fly away hairs.

           “You look like a mad scientist right now sweetie. I don’t think your ready to let Nate see you like this yet. I’m really just thinking of you,” Jeremy said dramatically as you cleaned your blades. You rolled your eyes and called an Uber, heading back to the hotel.

~ ~ ~

           An hour in a half later you met up with Nate at the main rink where the interview was to take place. As you reached him, you were able to see Jakob Silfverberg and Bradie finishing up their interview. Nate bumped you with his elbow and motioned for you to follow him when you looked up at him. You did, already guessing what he wanted to talk to you about. He rounded a corner and you found yourselves in a deserted hallway. As Nate opened his mouth, you launched into an apology. “I’m sorry about this morning. I just didn’t want to talk about it with so many people around and I felt like I was going to cry if I did cause I’m just so mad and honestly hurt that she would even say something like that. Like you just don’t do that.” Nate immediately reached for your hand, shaking his head.

           “Please don’t apologize. Jeremy sent me the link and I get it. I just wanted to see if I could do anything. I feel bad that I can’t do much to comfort you because of the environment we’re in this week. Really I just wanted to make sure you were ok,” he stated, rubbing his thumbs over your knuckles and looking around to make sure no one walked up on the two of you. You smiled and felt yourself relax for the first time that day. You stood on your tip-toes and gave him a quick peck on the lips.

           “I’m ok babe, thank you. My knee has a massive bruise on it, but I’ll be fine,” you answered with a slight giggle, and you really were. Though you were hurt by Ashley’s comment, the fact that Nate was checking on you made you feel like everything would be just fine. Nate chuckled.

           “So how did the jump go?” he asked, unsure at how successful you had been if you had a bruise.

           “I can land it. I just need a few more landings tomorrow and I think I’ll feel good enough to put it in the routine,” you said, and Nate grinned at you.

           “Can’t wait to see it,” he said, kissing your forehead, then dropped your hand as you both made your way back over to the interview setup.

           Once they were ready for you, Nate and yourself sat in chairs that were a little too high for you, your feet dangling and Nate immediately chirping you for it. Little did you know that the cameras were already rolling, you were live, and most of the team was watching back in Denver, laughing at your bickering. A few questions were asked, you and Nate answering and laughing at some of the funnier ones. They then announced they wanted to play a little game. They were calling it “Do You Know?”. You were both handed a white board and a marker. The interviewer was going to ask a question like “Do you know where they grew up?” and you had to answer on your board before time was up. You were told other player/coach teams have done fine, but not that great, and you and Nate gave each other a look and laughed. To the outside it just looked like you both were worried you would do the same, but the two of you knew better. You were going to dominate; dating did have its perks. Plus both of you were too competitive to even think about trying to hide how much you knew of the other…you had to be the best player/coach team. You laughed your way through the game, surprising the interviewer with how much you knew about each other. You both went 10 for 10, and high fived each other when you finished without getting any questions wrong. “How do you two know so much about each other?” the interviewer asked, raising an eyebrow. You could tell she was searching for something. Nate shrugged, so you spoke up.

           “I didn’t know anyone when I moved to Colorado, so the team became my friends. Nate became someone I could rely on and we just get along really well,” you summed it up. Before she could launch into another question, you spoke up again. “Do we get an award for being awesome or anything?” Nate cracked up and the lady forgot her question.

           “Are you kidding me Coach?” Nate looked at you with a grin. There it was, the platonic ‘Coach’. You were thankful Nate had phrased it that way.

           “I never joke about winning,” you replied, trying to keep a straight face but failing miserably. The interview ended at that, and you and Nate were free to go. Once back at the hotel, you asked for two sticky notes from reception. Nate watched you, amused and confused by your antics. You walked back over to him, and placed the sticky on his chest, showing him yours before you placed it on yourself. He laughed when he read ‘Winner’ on them. Taking a quick picture for the Avs story, you posted it on Instagram, captioning it “Best player/coach duo! #Winners”.

           Nate rode up in the elevator with you to your floor, risking a quick kiss before the doors opened. “Are you still going to your practice right now?” he mumbled in your ear. You leaned in to him and nodded.

           “Yeah, I need to lay out my choreography since it’s a different rink.”

           “Meet me on the roof once your back then?” he asked.

           “I’ll text you as soon as I drop my stuff back off in my room,” you responded as the elevator came to a stop. You stepped out and turned back to him as he grabbed your hand quickly.

           “Don’t let her get to you. You’re amazing, quad or not,” Nate whispered, and you could have melted under his gaze. The sincerity in his voice made you want to cry, but you gently smiled at the man who was managing to steal your heart, bit by bit.

           “Thank you,” you whispered back, then took a step away from him, watching the elevator doors close.

Tags: @bqstqnbruin​ @avsfans95​ @calesykar​ @comphybiscuit​ @andreiaafaria​ @spencereidbasis​

[pixie88]

Vicky

Chapter 19 - Always the Bridesmaid.

A/N: This chapter has 2 star guest appearances from 2 beauty's @secretaryunpaid and @ridgy--didge 😘😘 Again I’m going to try and start editing and publishing 2 chapters a week as I have 5 drafts in ATB and 3 drafts in Addicted to You (Series 2 of ATB) obviously if you wish to stop reading after series 1 I completely understand just let me know if you like to be untagged. Now offence taken. I hope you like it.

Read previous chapters HERE!

Warnings: Fluff, Little Angst, Mention of drug abuse & Violence.

Song: Raye - Love of you life.

Word Count: 2303

Pairings: Laila x Harry

Enjoy!

As soon as she read the words she knew who had done this "The flat is all clear" Harry says as Laila just stares at the words on the wall "It was Vicky" she says without looking away. "Are you sure?" he questions her, Laila nods "She's done something like this before when I've given Zeppy advice to stay away from her while she's using in the past. So, she completely smashed up my car"

18 Years ago.

"Nate, you know everyone says she's a druggy right?" this wasn't the reaction he wanted when he told his family about Vic "Laila, she is done with all that!" he hisses at her "Whatever...it's your life!" she gets up off the sofa and heads back to her bedroom. Nate was only 16 and Vic was 2 years older, Terry and Liz didn't care about the age gap as they were the same age when they got together, but it was more the rumours they had heard about her half the time she's high and the other half she's trying to get money to score.

As much as they didn't like her, Terry and Liz knew if they expressed their concerns, this will just push him away and towards her. All they could do is be there for him, they didn't have to worry. 4 months into the relationship the day before Laila's 14 birthday, Vicky just disappeared for two years when she finally turned up she told him about Zeppy. Hoping that he would stump up maintenance for her, but a trainee mechanic didn't make that much. Nate had learned not to give her money for anything, so if Zeppy needed something he would go out and buy it for her himself.

When she reached 12 years old, Vicky relapsed again, Nate had lost count of how many times she had gone back to the gear. Vicky had ended up in hospital again, Nate was working so he had asked Laila to take her to see Vic. When they arrived Vicky was asleep, although she was only 4 years older than Laila, looked twice her age. Zeppy was in tears "Hey, she'll be OK! She always is!" Laila tried to comfort her.

Hearing Zeppy's voice she stirred but kept her eyes shut "Aunt Laila, sometimes I wish she wasn't! I wish she wasn't OK.....I can't keep going through this!" Zeppy sobbed "I get that...I do! Sometimes, you can only take so much before you start to wonder if you would be better off without them or keep putting yourself through it"

This angered Vicky.

3 Days later.

She discharged herself from hospital and caught the tube to Laila's work. She saw her car parked up, she took off her heeled boots and smashed every window, pulling out her house key she scraped it across the shiny black paint work before smashing in her headlights. With the alarm going off Laila and Daniel rushed outside, but the damaged had been done.

Vicky got 6 months in prison for criminal damage.

Nate felt so much guilt that he decided he would worked on her car until it looked like new but Terry and Grandad Carelli couldn't let him do it alone, so they got involved too.

That was Vicky's first attack on Laila...

Present day.

Harry didn't want her staying at the flat just in case, Vicky came back no matter how much Laila protested "Harry, I'll be fine here! I can handle Vicky" he's packing a bag for her "I don't care...Laila, you aren't staying here" although she wasn't scared of Vic, she found Harry's protective side quite a turn on.

The next day.

Harry is in the shower, while Laila is cooking them breakfast "Alexa play Harry's playlist" she calls out. Raye - Love of Your Life starts playing, Laila starts swaying her hips and sings along.

"Oh, I could make you confused

I could give you something to lose

I'ma wake you up in the morning

In the bathroom singing the blues

No, I won't clean up your plates (Your plates)

Got my hair all in your face (Your face)

And my legs wrapped 'round your waist (Your waist)

No, I could never give you any space but I

I could be the love, be the love

Be the love, be the love of your life

I could be the love, be the love

Be the love, be the love of your life

I could be the light, be the light

Be the light when it's dark in the night

Oh God, I could be the love, be the love

Be the love, be the love of your life"

Harry stops in the doorway admiring the view, she hadn't noticed him and continues singing. He watches her hip roll and booty pop. He's almost convinced she knows he's there, so she's moving like this to get a reaction out of him. Which by how tight his boxers have gone she had gotten one.

"Put your, put your ego down when you need to

Yes, I get stressed out if I can't read you

Bad London girl raised in the south

I run my mouth, I say shit that I really didn't meant to say

Got my hair all in your face (Your face)

And my legs wrapped 'round your waist (Your waist)

No, I could ne......."

She cuts herself off when he startles her by wrapping his arms around her from behind "Why does that song seem like it was made for you?" He asks before placing a soft kiss against her neck "Maybe because my legs are normally wrapped around ya waist?" she laughs, "That or the love of you life bit" he nips her ear.

He kisses her neck again "Harry, I'm trying to cook breakfast," he leans forward moving the pan off the heated ring "I'm hungry for....!"  he spins her round to face him before lifting her and placing her on the kitchen counter. His lips crash to hers, his hands slip under his t-shirt she's wearing, grasping the waistband of her underwear and pulling them down until their a puddle on the floor.

The pads of his fingers parts her folds, the kiss became more intense, she moans against his lips. She's ready for him, she pushes down his boxers springing him free, she lines him up against her apex. With one swift movement, he thrusts into her, he groans as he grips her arse pulling her forward. She grips his shoulders, his thumb brushes over her nipple making her moan.

A few hours later.

"....I found her washing the kittens in the toilet" Mrs. Hoges tells Laila stories of her 6 year old granddaughter in her southern American accent while she's cutting her hair "No!! How old were they?"

"5 maybe 6 weeks...I shouldn't laugh but it was quite funny"

As she finishes up, she hears her phone buzz.

She loves her friends, but they worry too much, Laila believes if Vicky wanted to hurt her she would.

15 Minutes later...

Laila calls in her next client Miss. Ferguson in "Hey! How are you?" she greets her "G'day, I'm great thanks, you?" She says in her rich Australian accent, Laila nods "So what are we doing today?" Laila throws the gown over her "I'm thinking chocolate brown highlights" Laila nods tearing the foil strips.

At the corner of her eye, she notices someone lean against the wall to her right, she glances over and rolls her eyes as she makes her way over "Harry, what are you doing here?"

"Don't worry Daniel said it was fine.... considering" he seems worried "As much I love you worrying over me...I will be fine" she can see he has no plans on leaving her anytime soon "But seems you aren't going anywhere make yourself useful and pass me those foils when I ask" they make their way back over to Miss. Ferguson.

Once her foils are done, Laila gets Harry to take her to the sinks and wash her hair "I..don't know how to wash women's hair," he whispers to Laila, who laughs "Dude! Come on, it's not that difficult! You know how to wash your hair just wash it how you would yours but we give them a head massage when you do the conditioner" she winks leaving him to it.

At the end of her shift, "Did you have fun being my trainee?" he looks over to her, she had made him do 5 washes, made endless amount of teas and coffees and sweep up hair "I have no idea how you do this everyday my hands are pruned" she laughs, "Aww, those delicate hands can't handle a little water?" she jokes as she grabs her stuff to leave. She checks her phone and saw Nate had text her.

Although Laila wasn't scared of Vicky, she was relieved that she had been caught "Vicky's in custody" she turns towards Harry, who let's out a sigh of relief "Thank...fuck!" He wraps her up in his arms "Let hope she's not released anytime soon" she smiles up at him. She sends a quick reply back.

"So, that means I lose my hunky trainee?" She winks at him, he chuckles "Would it be inappropriate to take my boss out to dinner?" She smirks "Well, now your shift has finished you're no longer my trainee! I'm guessing it's acceptable!"

They leave the salon and find a restaurant that can seat them. Once they are shown their table, they're looking through the menu she looks up at Harry then she spots him...Fuck!!!! She thought as she moved the menu to cover her face.

"Laila?" She hears Harry say "Yes?" She asked not lowering her menu, "Who are you hiding from?" She can almost hear him smirking "No one! I have no idea what you're talking about!" He shook his head "You know even if I can't see your face I can tell you are lying"

She pulls down the menu a little "After Josh, Nikki set me up on a blind date...oh my god the guy was awful. He was one of those who are someone in school, but after he's a nobody the whole date he was just reminiscing about his days at school. I was so bored, so I made my excuses to use the toilets which was right next to the exit and left" Harry howls "Laila!! You didn't?!" He wipes his tears from laughing.

"I did! It's the guy over there with the woman with the yellow dress" Harry is about to turn to look, "Don't look you'll make it obvious!" She hisses "I need to see what this guy looks like especially if you've ditched him!" He turns and he can't believe his eyes "Callum?" He turns back to her "Yeah, how did you know?" She questions him.

"He was the kid in school that used to bully me about my weight...well until Alec told him to back off" Harry starts to laugh again "What's funny?" She asks, "So, he came to my gym years later wanting a PT, I managed to get him into shape....but it felt so good having someone who used to bully me come to me for help and now? My girlfriend went on a date with him and done a runner!" Harry is in fits of laughter.

"Maybe I should go over and say hi" Laila gives him a look as of to say don't you dare, but its to late, he's up and walking over to their table "Callum! I saw you and thought I'd come over and say hi!" Callum looks up at him "Harry, mate how are you?" The pair shake hands "Good, just here with my girlfriend Laila" he points in Laila's direction she awkwardly smiles back.

"I feel like I know her from somewhere" Callum's date turns in Laila's direction, now all 3 are looking over to her. Fuck! Does he recognize me?! She thought. "I think she just has one of those faces" Harry laughs "So, who's your date?" Callum's date looks up at Harry.

Laila caught her checking Harry out, she holds out her hand, which Harry shakes and quickly drops much to Callum's dates disappointment. She watches him smile at him both before making his way back to their table.

"Please tell me..he doesn't remember me?!" She asks as he sits, Harry chuckles "He thinks he knows you from somewhere, but no idea where" Laila sighs with relief "Thank god! But the nerve of his date! Checking you out right in front of him!" Her tone was curt.

A grin appeared on his face "So, I didn't imagine it then!" She rolls her eyes at him "No, I saw it too!" She doesn't look impressed "They were on a first date too! Why do you sound jealous?" He loves this side to her "I'm not.... I just think its rude checking out someone else when you are on a date" he leans over interlinking his fingers through hers "Gorgeous....come on surely you know I literally have tunnel vision, if it's not you I'm not interested! Plus do you know how good it felt telling him that I was with you?! The chubby kid got the super hot girlfriend and at 34 he's still on his first date" His words make her blush.

They're interrupted by the waiter who takes their order.

They are laughing at a silly joke Harry's mum told him when he heads to their table "I figured out where I know you from!" Callum says in an airy tone "We went on a blind date set up by Nikki! You ran out on it"

Fuck he remembered! She thought.

Continue reading this story here - Chapter 20.

@lem-20​ @ridgy--didge​ @irisofpurple​ @secretaryunpaid​ @khoicesbyk​ @txemrn​ @gloriousalmondvoiddreamer​ @tea-me-kah​ @casualpostqueen​ @beautifuluknownvoid​

[trvelyans-archive]

my baby’s sweet as can be

a comm for the lovely @montliyets of her adorable detective miss honey hudson and one stunning felix hauville trying to make pancakes !!! these two are so cute and sweet so i hope you enjoy <3 <3 <3 

-

“So, are you a vampire now, too?”

Honey stops scrolling through her phone to glance over at Felix with an amused smile. “No,” she says before good-naturedly rolling her eyes and returning to her search for the right playlist, “I just found this recipe online when you were in the bathroom and I thought it looked cool.”

Felix doesn’t say anything – he just stares at her with round amber eyes until she turns to look at him again, raising an eyebrow curiously.

“What?” she asks.

“Well – what is it?” he prompts. “You can’t just say that and not tell me about the recipe!”

That wasn’t actually why he was staring at her – it was because a bunch of hairs came loose from her bun and were hanging in little blonde curls at the nape of her neck that he couldn’t help but stare at and want to push back up into her bun – but it’s a good enough excuse. He hopes it is, anyway.

She giggles, grabbing her phone and presenting it to him – on the screen is a plate of fluffy pancakes topped high with whipped cream and strawberries. It looks good – it even looks good to him, which is saying something, considering vampires rarely ever enjoy food. It also looks incredibly complicated, though, and Honey hasn’t slept a wink tonight – Felix would know, because they’d been watching musicals on the couch until now and the clock on the oven reads 2:06 am. Way past her bedtime, especially if she has work in the morning.

He can hear Adam’s scolding in his head, but if she doesn’t want to sleep, who is Felix to stop her? Especially because he needs at least ten more minutes of staring to commit all her curls to memory… and then another ten minutes so he can work up the courage to ask her if he can tug on one of them to see how springy it is.

Besides, he likes spending time with Honey. She’s just so sweet.

“Should I make some to bring Tina for breakfast?” Honey asks, taking the phone from Felix when he hands it back to her. “Yeah, okay, I’ll do it. I don’t know if I’ll be able to finish so many myself, anyway.”

“Wish I could eat some,” Felix says, sticking his bottom lip out in a pout as he hops up onto the counter.

Honey returns his pout as she opens the fridge door. “I know,” she says sympathetically, glancing down at her phone before looking up at him. “But – maybe you can try these? The ingredients are pretty, y’know, normal – they might not be too bad!”

“What are some of them?” Felix asks. He’s managed to stomach the odd potato chip or sugary cereal in his day (though usually only because Mason dares him, considering - as much as he enjoys the first bite - he doesn’t always enjoy every bite after that).

“Milk, eggs, butter… oh, what?”

Felix leans over, trying to read her screen. “What?”

“These use mayo,” she says. “Hm. Okay, well, maybe you won’t like them!”

“That’s okay!” he says brightly. “I might try one anyway… With the right motivation.”

He wiggles his eyebrows at her, but she already turned to the fridge and started looking for ingredients. Damn. He’ll have to try that again later.

After she collects everything and places it all onto her counter, including a bottle of vanilla that Felix spent five minutes helping search through her cupboards for until she revealed it was actually hidden behind a couple of plants, he settles back in beside her and watches her pour everything into a medium-sized mixing bowl with mushrooms painted on the sides and starts mixing it together, only occasionally flinging batter over the side of the bowl onto her counter. She bites her bottom lip as she focuses, swaying back and forth to the music playing from her phone, and he forces himself to look away for a second before he gets stuck thinking about how cute she is (which happens more than he’d like to admit).

“So…” He leans back against the cupboards and crosses his arms over his chest. “Do you come here often?”

He can picture it in his head – a sleepy Honey dragging herself out of her bed and into the kitchen to make a full Thanksgiving turkey or something at four in the morning. (He’s seen her half-asleep some nights when she sleeps at the Warehouse. It’s incredibly cute. She’s cute right now, too, but there’s something extra special about seeing her right out of sleep.)

She glances up at him and laughs. “Sometimes,” she says. “I mean, I try to get enough sleep before work, but – I get distracted, and if I get distracted, it’s hard to sleep.”

Felix understands that – he gets distracted easily, too, sometimes. Especially when he daydreams about beating Mason in a game of darts, because then it’s hard for him to do any of his Agency work when he knows that the dartboard in the games room is just down the hall at the Warehouse. “Distracted by fancy pancakes?”

“It’s not always food!” she protests. “One time I went to the convenience store with Tina at three in the morning because I thought there might be stuff I would need to do, like, embroidery there… surprisingly, there wasn’t any. And then I forgot by the end of work the next day, so… there went my dreams of embroidering a pillow.”

“I’m sure you’d be great at that,” Felix says.

Honey smiles. “Well, play your cards right and I might crappily embroider you a pillow for your next…” She trails off uncertainly. “Uh, I was gonna say birthday, but… do you have one?”

“I do!” Though he probably would’ve made one up even if he didn’t, because he doesn’t want to miss out on a gift from her, especially if she was planning on embroidering a cute little flower onto it. He doesn’t need to sleep that often, but he might end up doing it more just because he’d get to use the pillow she made him. “You don’t have to get me anything, though!”

“Of course I do, Felix.” She stops to dip her finger in the bowl, scooping some batter up on her finger and licking it off. “What kind of chef would I be if I didn’t get a birthday present for my cooking assistant?”

“Well, I don’t know how good of an assistant I’ll be, but I can try!” Felix says. On the rare occasion Nate is cooking, Felix lingers in the kitchen to watch (and almost always ends up getting swatted away when he tries to add more ingredients than necessary).

“Well, I don’t know how good of a chef I’ll be with this recipe, either, so…” She grins at him. “We’re in this together, I guess.”

Felix grins back at her. ‘Together’ makes his heart flutter. “Good.”

When the pancakes are finally finished at exactly 3 am (with Felix only trying to add honey to the batter once or four times throughout the course of cooking), she crams the pancakes that she set aside for Tina into a tiny container and stuffs them into her fridge before the two of them sit down at the dining table. “Alright,” she says, her cutlery clattering together as she picks them up in her hand and moves her plate onto her placemat with the other. “Moment of truth.”

The truth, from his end, is that the pancakes look good. While Felix is having trouble smelling anything but the mayonnaise which is super overpowering and – well, it doesn’t exactly make him think of nice, sweet pancakes, they still look good. They look like they belong in one of those food magazines he’s seen lying around Haley’s. He’s about to tell her that she should take a picture of them to send to Tina when she cuts a piece off and barely gives him enough time to start his drumroll before she sticks the forkful of food into her mouth.

Felix just sits there and watches her while she chews until she swallows the pancakes. There’s a long, thoughtful pause before she nods and her face breaks out into a bright, pleased smile, and she immediately picks her cutlery back up to slice off and scrape up another forkful of pancakes. “Good,” she says. “Yeah, they’re good.”

“Yes!” Felix claps. He wasn’t ready to see her disappointed if they weren’t good. “Good job!”

“My middle-of-the-night baking is almost never good,” she laughs, running a hand over her hair, “so I’m really glad that I didn’t embarrass myself.”

“Psh. Nothing you do is embarrassing.”

Honey fixes him with a disbelieving stare. “I once set off the fire alarms in the building trying to make soup,” she says. “Soup, Felix.”

“Well… that’s okay!” Felix smiles at her. “Besides… maybe this means that I should come over more often when you’re trying to cook. Maybe I’m your lucky charm!”

“You are,” Honey says, grinning when he wiggles his eyebrows at her. Nice. He knew that’d work. “Don’t tell Tina, of course, because she probably thinks that she’s my lucky charm. Do you want some pancakes, by the way?”

He’s tempted. Mostly because she’s looking at him so hopefully, but also because the slice she cut off looks super pretty and it would be hard for anyone to turn it down (except maybe Adam and Mason). Still, he can’t exactly get over the smell of mayonnaise…

And then he gets an idea.

“Hang on,” Felix said. “Hold that thought!”

He stands up and darts into the kitchen, then turns around to poke his head through the doorway and add, “But you can eat that slice, y’know, if you want!”

Her kitchen is a mess after all the baking – he doesn’t even know where she’s going to start in terms of cleaning off her counter – but he somehow manages to find what he was looking for within seconds. He holds it close to his chest as he heads back into the living room, sitting down in his seat a little closer to her than he was before and placing a small yellow bottle on the table in triumphantly.

“Honey,” she says, looking up at him. “You know syrup is basically the same thing, right? I mean... isn’t it?”

He places a hand on his chest, feigning offense. “Are you questioning your cooking assistant, Chef Hudson?”

She laughs, shaking her head and leaning back in her chair. “Not at all,” she says. “Be my guest! Just… don’t throw up on my table, okay? And if you do get sick, please don’t tell Adam it was because of me!”

Felix’s genuinely offended that she’d even have to say that – he’d blame himself a million times before he’d even think about blaming her – but now he’s too distracted by his mission to respond to it, grabbing her plate and pulling it towards himself until it’s sitting perfectly in the center of his own floral-printed placemat. He cuts off a slice of pancake and flips open the top of the honey bottle, pouring an amount of honey onto his fork that makes her gasp and cover her mouth, but he only looks up at her and winks as he grabs it and shoves the pancake into his mouth.

Yep, it tastes like mayonnaise and eggs just like he knew it would, but the honey is sweet.

(Felix already knew that, too.)

“Good?” she asks, placing her elbows on the table and leaning towards him expectantly.

“Good,” he replies, nodding. “If you ask me, you could quit your detective job and become a full-time pancake chef.”

Honey smiles. “Only if you’re my full-time cooking assistant.”

Felix reaches out and curls a strand of hair around his finger. “I’m fine with that… on one condition.”

She raises an eyebrow.

“We have to incorporate honey into every recipe,” he says. Before she can protest, he adds, “It’s the perfect business model!”

“Alright, alright, you have a point.” She glances at the plate of pancakes again, biting her lip. “Do you want another bite?”

He doesn’t – what he wants to do is lean closer and closer to her and see if she’ll let him kiss her. Or if she’ll kiss him first. Or if they’ll kiss each other at the exact same time like in the movies. He can tell that she wants another bite, though, and he’s nothing if not a gentleman, so he pulls his hand reluctantly away from her and pushes the plate towards her again.

Besides, if he doesn’t get to kiss her tonight, it’ll give him a good excuse to come over another time.

[lovely-necromancy]

A Cure for Insomnia CH. 8

TW

Mentions of SELF HARM. Please be aware before reading.

“Yeah, in the end Jenna Rosencali decided that she didn't want to invite Meghhan Levei to her birthday party. And that's what started the water balloon war at eight in the morning.” Little Jo said as she scrunched her curls trying to get them to dry somewhat uniformly.

The poor eleven year old had walked into the shop soaked down to the bone. Her cousin had rushed her straight into the break room to have her get dry and change clothes. Even running across the street to Dunkin' and get her favorite breakfast sandwich and donut. Then Jo had come out not even a minute after he left and proceeded to tell you what happened, knowing her cousin probably thought she'd been bullied.

But you were different, you didn't see her as a target at all. She likes to think you see her as a little sister, one who enjoys hanging out with you. As much as she likes to think that she understands you probably just see her as the boss' kid that you have to be nice to. You don't immediately jump to her aid when things look a certain way, like just right now. You waited to hear what she had to say rather than assuming someone was mean to her because she was different. Jo knows her family just wants to protect her but sometimes she just wants them to listen to her like you do.

“It's always Megans. Lemme guess name spelt weird.” like right now, you heard her.

“Yea she's got two 'h's in the middle. Meghhan.” she laughs as you roll your eyes. She tics and yanks on her hair as she's scrunching.

“Ouch” stupid tics.

“I've got some shea moisture in my locker in the break room, want me to grab it for you? It'd help with frizz.” another reason she likes you, it took a few days before you stopped checking on her tics, so long as she didn't have scissors.

Even her family haven't mastered that and they've been dealing with her Tourettes for six years.

“Please.”

She follows you to the back for the hair masque. Letting her take what she needed you place the jar back in your locker. Letting her know she's free to it in emergencies like this or rainy days. It's not like your locker was ever locked with just you and Nate being here. And you're pretty sure Nate dipped into this emergency hair saver as well. You didn't have an extreme need for it here it was just a habit you've kept from living in muggy humidity most your life.

“How's your week been?” Jo asked as she finally settled her hair how she liked it, with help from the masque.

She startles at the frustrated noise you make as you both leave the break room.

“Bad?” she questions.

“Sort of...there's...this..it's...”

Shit, you hadn't thought about your response. With all the stress this week you just reacted naturally to the question. Who can blame you, what with your stalker being on your mind all week, minimal amount of sleep, plus the weird interaction you'd had with Brian at the start of it. Then yesterday you topped off your stress with a healthy portion of more frustration driving up to the lodge after work to see if Barclay would like some help with cooking or even shopping for the picnic. Stubborn man sent you off with a hearty laugh after getting you opinion on the vegetarian/vegan main course, eggplant teriyaki or tofu and pineapple chipotle skewers.

“Oooooooh a boy.~” she might not be your actual sister...but you're starting to understand the Cain Instinct.

“Half right I guess.” Jo starts bouncing waiting to hear more, she's probably expecting some juicy relationship drama. Sucks for her that you are probably the world's most boring twenty-four year old, and you're content with that.

“Barclay's just frustrating sometimes.”

“Wait! You and Barcl-”

“Nope.” you interrupt, “I asked him if he needed help with any cooking for the picnic and he brushed me off.” You know he didn't mean anything by it and from what everyone said he could more than handle cooking for the amount of people just fine on his own. You'd just thought it'd be a nice gesture to offer, though you did hope he'd accept. He'd been pretty quick to turn you down, had you been any one else you may have even been insulted by the speed of the rejection.

“That's what's bothering you?” Jo's face held a very confused expression on it. It was understandable since not a lot actually bothered you, especially something as small as this. However, it's not like you could tell an eleven year old 'Yea I'm kinda being stalked right now and this week has me looking at every shadow and movement differently but fortunately or...unfortunately no one seems to notice and just brush it off as my hallucinations.'

Yup, totally not the thing you confide to an eleven year old about. Especially now that you have your plan all figured out. You've planned to let the stalker continue stalking you, picking up clues where ever they may leave them. They're bound to slip up at least once after a month of following you through your routines. Should be able to find evidence to have Big Jo help you in no time.

“Well no...I've just had a lot on my mind...”

“We can talk about it.” kid's got a kind heart, but this isn't her problem and you won't put it on her.

“Nah, it's fine.”

There's a pause as silence settles over the shop front. Jeez how long does it take to get an order from Dunkin'? Jo is staring at you as if she can see every part of your being. Breaking open your soul so all your secrets are laid out on display for her. You really don't like it, it feels like being under the microscope and it's making your skin get that familiar itch under it.

“Stop staring.” thankfully she does as you ask.

“...you said it's fine...are you going to be ok though?” Damn Montessori schools, actually allowing children to pick up on emotions and meanings behind linguistics.

You have to pause when you go to respond with the polite 'Yea I'll be good'...because you hadn't given it any real thought. You've made up this best case scenario plan. A plan that requires time and a lot of it. But you never gave thought to the fact that you might not have much time at all. What if the situation was more dire than you thought...what if this wasn't simply a stalker but a serial killer and you happen to fit his MO. A cult who was looking for the perfect sacrifice for their god. And while those thoughts could also be far fetched so is the scenario that you've built up for this past week.

Even if this was a simple stalking case, who's to say it wouldn't escalate? You have an old steel baseball bat in the hall closet and you could use it in case things got dicey. But that would require it being on your person a lot more than it actually is. Maybe you could make it look like you took up going to batting cages...are there even any batting cages in Kepler?

'Fucking focus...stop the rambling. Am I going to be ok?' you think to yourself despite the roaring chaos of your mind. Even with all the possibilities being thrown around you don't have an answer. Maybe that's really the answer after all if you can't get even one 'yes' from any of the possibilities...maybe you wouldn't be ok after all. Maybe you weren't ok.

“I don't want to talk anymore.” It's said so plainly, in such a dull monotone that it throws Jo off.

Jo's not quite used to this but she understands from the two times she's seen it that sometimes you just shut down under pressure like this. This topic, whatever it is, must really bother you. She wishes there was something she could do to make you feel better, but you can be really volatile in this state. Easily going from shutdown mode to meltdown at the simplest action.

With a jolt joined by a 'yip-yup' she remembers something that might put you in a better mood. And if it doesn't she still needs to give it to you so you have it. Rushing off to the back as fast as her legs will take her, having the agility only years of dance can provide.

Nate comes back into the shop as she disappears to the back.

“Did you know the Dunkin' across the street does parties?” What? To the man's credit he had no reaction to your blank stare and lack of response. He clocked the eye contact aversion right away.

You've gone into shutdown mode. Sometimes you just go quiet and that's fine, you're like a robot in this state and if he sets you up with a task that should take all day you have it finished in a few hours.

Once when he asked you just said you needed to not talk at time and that the tasks were good ways to process thoughts. Nate was reasonably creeped out by this but you aren't hurting anyone so c'est la vie.

“Nate?” Jo's calls out from down the hall.

“Yea, I'm back. Brought food.” he set the bag on the counter and handed you the shitty hash rounds you like for some reason.

'It's only cuz they're bad, if they were good they wouldn't be worth eating.' you think as you pop one into your mouth.

Jo comes twirling back into the room. In a broad sweep of motion kicks her foot off the floor to do one final dramatic twirl that ends in a bow with the same leg pointed toward the ceiling. All to present to you and Nate two tickets. Tickets to what?

“Another dance rehearsal?”

“Nope actual thing this time.” she supplies passing you each a ticket.

It's such a formal looking ticket for a recital that only goes up to age twelve max. Most dancers will still be in elementary school. But they want you to treat this like the Russian Ballet. Oh it even says it's a black tie event, completely different from the rehearsals you've been too.

You aren't sure if you have anything black tie status. You'll have to make a trip further out of your normal bounds and go thrifting for an outfit. Luckily it won't be happening for another month, that gives you plenty of time to try finding something in your size that you also like. It also gets you out of Kepler and away from your stalker for a few hours. Hopefully. But there's a chance your stalker will follow you on your outings away from Kepler so you'd need to keep an eye out for familiar faces on the trip.

“YN...will you come?” Jo's looking up at you with her big puppy eyes. Unfair, even if you wanted to decline she pulled puppy eyes. What heartless monster would refuse puppy eyes.

You give a slow nod along with a smile that doesn't reach your cheeks let alone your eyes. And while Jo's a little disappointed with the lack of enthusiasm she's still excited for you to come to her recital. Nate nudges her into her personal reading nook making up a lie that you hadn't finished your task sheet today so he'd watch over her while you finished working. You'd only had vacuuming and organizing the shelves that got mussed up the previous day, needless to say you were done nearly as soon as you started. When he came back to you he had a whole stack of papers for books that would need to be input into the system. You got to spend the rest of the day on the dinosaur computer in the backroom.

The quiet was nice.

After you'd gotten off work you still weren't out of your funk. Frustrated with the idea of going home and not actually being alone with a stalker prowling around. You decided to go to the one place that can calm even your worst of moods. The stream.

There's a reason why you've never been able to do longer than a thirty minute hike through the Monongahela and that's the stream. Every time you've said you'd go further into the forest you're always drawn back into that spot along the bank right under the red spruce. It has the best smell of all the trees, you think.

Just thinking about it has you having a better outlook on the day. You hardly spare the RV a glance as you go along your usual route.

You've said it once you'll say it again for emphasis. You could walk the same path every time you came through and always find something different. Like that cool rock right there. Picking it up to inspect it closer you note the color is a deep dark brown that it almost looks black even obsidian, it reminds you of something but you can't quite place it. It's very smooth and oddly enough fits perfectly in your hand given it's larger size.

You think you'll keep it, this is a good rock. Idly rubbing the smooth surface of the stone as you trek through your trail, you can feel the tension start to ease off of you. You found a very nice worry stone, it works amazingly well. Hopefully no one lost it and it is just a naturally occurring stone that you happened on by chance. As much as you like it you'd hate to think of the chance of someone loosing something they need.

All thoughts cease once you hear the babble of the stream. As if on auto pilot you move with a fluidity through the brush and low hanging tree branches to your spot. Right under the spruce. Just as you did the last week and every other trip before you remove your shoes and socks placing them further behind you, so you can dip your feet into the cool stream. It's very refreshing on this hot summer's day.

Lying down with your feet still in the stream you close your eyes and just loose yourself to nature. All your cares and worries getting washed away by the steady moving stream. It's strange to be here without the buzzing in the back of your head. Oh great speak of the devil and he shall appear. It's fine, after all you're used to this, it's easy to ignore.

However, what isn't easy to ignore is the snapping of a branch, from in front of you just across the stream, how cliche. Cliches aside the sound rockets you back into a sitting position as you look for the source. And you find it...find him standing just on the other side of the stream emerging from the brush on that side. Toby. And he's mask less, not a weird choice considering he probably wouldn't have run into anyone had you not decided to come out for a hike.

Great you can feel your chances at friendship slipping through your grasp just like the water slips down the bend. He's gonna think you're weird when you don't respond to him verbally. Or worse he'll think you were rude for not wanting to talk to him and then never want to talk to you again in retaliation. Whatever relaxation had once been over you quickly dissipates and you are left anxious and with a tickle at the base of your skull.

Toby hasn't said anything yet. Not even a raised hand in a half wave. You also don't see Connor anywhere. Is Toby okay right now? Fuck even with that kind of thought you can't manage to move your lips let alone actually utter a sound, even ones that wouldn't ever be counted as words by anyone who was currently living. So you take the first move, literally.

Raising the hand without the stone in a mock form of a greeting. Toby doesn't seem to quite register it or you but he copies the movement. Oh he must be dissociating either that or in a catatonic state similar to the one you'd been in last weekend. That's probably how he knew he just needed to sit you down and keep and eye on you. You could do that for him...if that's what he needed.

You wave your hand beckoning Toby to come over to your side of the stream. Toby tilts his head to the side before his arms jolt up, going across his body. You assume it was a tic because he didn't keep the pose long. Tilting your head back at him, as if to say 'You coming over?', you pat the spot next to you.

Seems he registered that because he backed up a few steps before taking a running leap to cross the stream. He lands with more grace than you'd given the lanky guy credit for, normally someone with such long limbs would be a lot more clumsy. Not to mention that was a pretty wide jump, and Toby only has a few inches on you, you could probably barely cover the width of the stream. But he not only cleared it but he gave himself a good six inches of coverage away from the edge. You just hope he didn't roll or over exert anything by doing that. With his insensitivity to pain he wouldn't feel it and if he wasn't here mentally right now it's likely he wouldn't even remember he made a jump like that in the first place.

When he just stands in place staring at you, you get a bit uneasy. What's up with everyone staring at you today? You get really uncomfortable with people's stares normally, and now you're overstimulated and stressed it's not a great combination. But you can rationalize Toby is having a moment of his own. And since he helped you the best that he could you'll do the same for him, pushing aside your own issues for the moment. After all what are friends for.

He's standing within arms reach. You don't even have to get up as you gently grab his hand and give a few light tugs. Trying your best to get across that he should sit down with you. This would probably be a lot easier if you could speak right now. Did he speak to you when you were like this?

Toby thankfully gets the message and drops into a criss-cross position next to you. You start to retract your hand, now that the need for contact is over, when Toby's rough hand closes around it suddenly. Looking to Toby he's just staring straight ahead and not at you. His eyes aren't frantic or moving in any way, like yours sometimes do when you're following a hallucination. Physical closeness must help him through this kind of thing.

As gross as the feeling normally would be for you it isn't so bad right now. It seems Toby's CIPA also affects his body's temperature and his ability to sweat. Where there's usually the feeling of burning and clammy moisture coming off of another person, Toby is just tepid and dry. If anything it feels as if you're being held by a leather baseball glove.

Toby's hands are very rough, especially his palms, maybe you should let him burrow some of the goat milk lotion Dia gave you a few weeks ago. It smells pretty good and it only takes a little bit to soften your skin back up. But as you look closer at his hands you can see the spots roughest are around his nail beds. Someone has a biting problem, maybe he needs an oral stim toy. That would keep his flesh out of his mouth, and stop him from injuring himself...hopefully. There's still a chance he'd bite through his tongue without realizing, honestly you're a little surprised that hasn't happened yet.

You had completely forgotten about the stone in your hand until you went to grab at Toby's hand that still held yours in a firm grip. Seeing the dark brown rock again you remembered what it reminded you of, Toby's eyes. They were the same shade as the rock, that's funny...anecdotally at least. This rock helped you maybe it would help calm him down some. Worth a shot.

Since your hand closest to him is preoccupied you have to reach across his body to nudge the rock to his hand. He spares it a single glance before covering it with his other hand. Mission partially accomplished you guess. Now you're just sitting here, with Toby catatonic, by the edge of the water bank. Pulling your feet from the stream you mirror Toby's pose, you'll likely be here a while.

While normally you'd love to just loose your self to the sounds surrounding the stream, in the presence of another person you're too jittery to enjoy that. If only you had something to fidget with... You wonder what Toby's reaction would be if you just... Toby turns his head to watch you when he feels a gentle smaller hand on his own. Dark eyes watching intensely as you pull his hand into your lap. Turning it over so his palm is facing up, before you start tracing patterns into his palm lines and flexing his fingers individually. He watches for a moment before turning back to his original point.

Playing with his hand you noticed a few more things about Toby. From his chipped black nail polish, a look you personally think not enough guys go for even though it makes them look more attractive and approachable. To the single string paracord medical bracelet he's wearing, metal tag simply stating 'TOURETTE'S SYNDROME'. And a little further down you see scars, a few are crescent shapes easily identified as Toby's own nails. But most are straight lines, even a few jagged cuts, that run up and along his forearm.

'Tobais...what on Earth happened to you?' just as the thought rings through your mind you feel a sudden weight on your shoulder.

Toby is resting on your shoulder with his eyes close. You can tell he's just resting them by the lack of movement behind the eyelids.  With his head being on your shoulder you can smell him, not in a creepy way but he's just so close that his scent waifs your way. He smells like fresh dirt...it isn't a bad smell. It reminds you of gardening but on an overcast day. It hadn't rained today so how does he smell like it?

Moving your attention back to his hands, and away from how nice Toby smells, you catch sight of the scars again and bite your lip. Not wanting to dwell on the scars and their implications any longer. You curl and uncurl his fingers and start a rhythmic motion of curling them individually.

'You poor sweet boy.' is the only thought you can focus on. Even though the scars may be old and those wounds long healed. Toby at one point made them and it's very apparent that he is still not in the best way mentally. Once the two of you are friends, you'll do your best to be there for him. Like you are right now...you really hope it helps.

Toby didn't make even the slightest movement until the sky had begun to bleed its deep oranges across the horizon. He pulls his hand out of your grasp. And when you try to retrieve it to keep up you activity he softly pushes your hands back to you. Guess he's done for now.

With as late as it is, you'd like to go home. And Toby seems more aware of the things going on. But it isn't until you hear a call for him behind you two and he reacts looking in the direction of the call, that you decide he's safe enough for you to leave here.

Without much hesitancy you push off of the ground and stand. Toby isn't looking at you. Taking that as a cue you head back towards the entrance of the forest. Before you leave the clearing however, you look back to Toby and notice a dark colored stone resting nicely in his palm as he idly brushes a finger across it's surface.

Yea he's going to be fine.

[ruzek-halstead]

respectfully

pairing: jay halstead x hailey upton

hailey somehow gets roped into attending her ex-fiancé & ex-best friend's wedding, and there's no way in hell she's going solo. hailey requests jay's help as her pretend boyfriend and he discovers he is incredibly attracted to badass hailey.

“anyway, congratulations on your wedding day but respectfully, fuck off.”

masterlist || ao3

warnings: swearing, fluffery, hailey upton’s badassery

jay can tell something is bothering his partner. he notices it during the first twenty seconds after he picks her up that sunny chicago morning. he doesn’t pry though; that’s just not how they work. he knows she’ll talk about it when she’s ready.

today is actually supposed to be their day off; however, both detectives are interested in some overtime, after sergeant platt asked them to help out oh so nicely.

they are in their blues (which is a very rare occurrence), acting as extra security during a chicago street festival. jay honestly has no idea what the festival was for and platt wasn’t in the mood to explain it to him.

jay and hailey stick together as they patrol the street; the conversation is kept fairly light, but hailey seems distant and uninterested and jay is starting to worry slightly.

“hey, is everything okay?” he asks her, as they turn a corner. she turns to him with her eyebrows raised and he instantly jumps in to defend himself. “i know, personal question. but you’ve been off all morning. just want to make sure you’re alright.”

hailey chuckles, losing their eye contact to watch the festival in front of them. it was busy but not overly crowded that they couldn’t hear what the other was saying. “no, i’m fine. just have a few things on my mind.”

it was jay’s turn to raise his single eyebrow, attempting to catch her gaze again. “anything you want to talk about?”

hailey looks like she wants to laugh and that just leaves jay even more clueless; she really was aloof about her personal life. “no, it’s nothing serious.”

“still,” he shrugs, stuffing his hands into his front pockets. “i’ll listen.”

hailey smiles, patting his shoulder that slumps in defeat. “i know, jay. but i’m fine.”

🎊🎊🎊🎊🎊🎊🎊🎊🎊🎊🎊🎊🎊🎊🎊🎊🎊🎊🎊🎊🎊🎊🎊🎊🎊

jay doesn’t pry anymore after she shuts him down. they finish their volunteer shift, agree to go home and shower and meet up at a bar nearby. they still go to molly’s to hang out with the other first responders, but they’ve started going to this other bar, as to not have other prying eyes around. sometimes they just want to talk, something they just want to drink, but this way, it’s just the two of them.

he’s watching hailey at the bar, buying them another round of beers. she’s still been slightly off, but he’s confident she’s about ready to crack.

jay’s halfway into his second beer when she finally explodes.

“okay, i've decided i'm going to tell you what’s up, but you’re not allowed to laugh.”

she looks so serious and jay is so confused. why would he laugh if something was wrong?

“okay?” he replies, more as a question.

she looks as if she’s mentally preparing herself and he’s clueless, but that seems to be the norm around hailey.

“one of my ex-boyfriends is getting married.”

jay raises his eyebrows, expecting everything but that.

“to my ex-best friend.”

realization is slowly dawning on him.

“he cheated on me with her, so we broke up, naturally.”

he’s kept quiet because she doesn’t look finished venting yet.

“but they’re getting married in like a week, and i wasn’t going to go because fuck them, you know?” hailey was going off now and jay listened diligently, a hint of a smile on his lips. “yes, you heard correctly; i received an invite. anyway, i never sent in my rsvp either just to keep them guessing and mess up their wedding plans. but then,” she adds dramatically, rolling her eyes; jay is trying really hard not to laugh now. “i saw them! i saw both of them last night on my way home. of all the places i could run into them, i ran into them at the convenience store when i was picking up milk,” she looks so annoyed, “milk, jay.”

at this point, jay can’t contain his laughter anymore. hailey looks affronted.

“hailey, i’m sorry, okay?” he can’t seem to stop or look the least bit apologetic. “i’m not laughing at your story, i promise. it's just the way you’re telling it. i've never seen you so invested in something and so annoyed.”

hailey is pissed, but not at jay; it’s just the whole situation in general has been bugging her all day and she just needed to tell someone. “oh, there’s more.”

jay's eyes widen. “oh no, what happened?”

“so, there i am, carrying the milk and they’re being all friendly and shit like nothing happened,” her eyes are squinted, “like what the fuck?”

jay nods, smirking. “how dare they?”

hailey pauses, glaring at him. “i know you’re being a smartass, but i'm going to ignore that because, listen to this,” he leans in, completely invested. “they asked if i was going to the wedding, but like what the hell am i supposed to say to their faces?”

“oh no,” jay mumbles, “hailey, you didn’t.”

“yes, jay, i absolutely did,” she laughs, “when they mentioned they never got my rsvp, i told them it must have been lost in the mail because i definitely sent it.”

jay is full on laughing again and hailey can’t even be mad because she’s laughing too.

“jay, it gets worse,” she groans, dropping her head into her hands. jay is basically already losing it; he’s not sure how much worse it can get. “they asked me for the details so they could add it into their plans, and they asked me if it was two spots; one for me and one for my boyfriend.”

jay's eyes widen. “oh shit.”

“i know they were messing with me; i could see it on their faces,” she adds angrily. her blue eyes are slightly wild, and her messy hair is sticking to her face as she spoke ferociously. “but there was no way in hell i was telling them i’m going to their wedding solo! so, now i need a last-minute date, and the wedding is in like a week.”

jay takes a swig from his beer, amusement still present on his facial features. “wow hailey, that was a rollercoaster. no wonder you’ve been off all day.”

“yeah, yeah, laugh it up, halstead,” hailey sasses while rolling her eyes. “but don’t you worry, your time of reckoning will come.” jay’s eyebrows furrow and he doesn’t like where this conversation is going. “you got a nice suit?”

jay shakes his head rapidly. “no. not this again.”

“what?” hailey interrupts, looking confused. “you’re coming to this wedding with me, you have no choice.”

jay sighs. “are you sure this is a good idea?”

“i'm not showing up solo, jay,” her expression is serious. “and if i have to pretend to be in a fake relationship for one night, i would rather it be you.”

jay ignores the way her words make him feel inside. “okay, fine. looks like i don’t have much of a say anyway.”

hailey smiles toothily and any doubts he previously had disappear. “no, you definitely don’t. also, i'm pretty sure voight is out of town, so you’re really my only other option.”

he chuckles, finishing the last of his beer. “okay, if we’re going to do this, tell me everything i need to know.”

🎊🎊🎊🎊🎊🎊🎊🎊🎊🎊🎊🎊🎊🎊🎊🎊🎊🎊🎊🎊🎊🎊🎊🎊🎊

hailey should probably be nervous, but she surprisingly isn’t.

she's about to spend a night pretending to be madly in love with her partner (which honestly wasn’t that hard to do), and she hasn’t started panicking. it's basically like working undercover; she has just never done this level role-playing with jay before.

but he seemed good. he didn’t seem nervous at all, as she gazed at him from the passenger seat of his truck. he picked her up about twenty minutes ago, looking absolutely dazzling in a pressed simple black suit. she was momentarily speechless, but she awkwardly smiled and gave him a random compliment when he cleared his throat.

contrary to what hailey thought, jay was a little nervous. this was uncharted territory and they hadn’t discussed much of how they would act around each other. it was like an undercover operation and they would just go with the flow. but he had to be honest; with hailey wearing a dress like that, it was going to be extremely hard to focus. her dress actually was quite similar to erin's from their undercover op in the sex club and honestly, the parallels between them lately were uncanny.

“what?” he asks as he catches her staring for the fifth time since they left for the ceremony.

she giggles, “sorry, nothing. i'm just picturing nate’s face when he sees you.”

nate is the ex-boyfriend; kathy is the ex-best friend. hailey had caught him up over the last week on everything he needed to know. she may have omitted a few details, but what he didn’t know, he didn’t know, right?

jay raises an eyebrow, turning right onto the street of their destination. “why?”

hailey rolls her eyes; he can be so adorably clueless. “shut up; you know you’re attractive, okay?”

he smirks and internally debates whether he should use this moment to blatantly flirt with her, but figures he’ll have lots of time for that throughout the evening. he pulls into the venue and secure a parking spot, catching hailey’s fidgety hands from the corner of his eye.

they had decided to keep their fake relationship as close to reality as possible, as to make everything easier. they had been partners for a bit over three years and started showing romantic interests in each other two years in. they decided to give it a try a few months later, and have been together ever since.

“you ready?” he asks in a soft voice.

hailey nods. “yeah, yeah, i'm okay,” she wipes her hands on her red dress (honestly, red? was she trying to kill him?). “just realizing i'm going to see a lot of people from my past in there tonight.”

jay reaches over the console and taps her knee, careful not to linger. “what did you say the other day? fuck ‘em?”

she looks over at him and smiles. “fuck ‘em.”

🎊🎊🎊🎊🎊🎊🎊🎊🎊🎊🎊🎊🎊🎊🎊🎊🎊🎊🎊🎊🎊🎊🎊🎊🎊

the wedding is taking place at an extravagant hotel wedding plaza; the ceremony is happening in the outside garden at sunset, while the reception is immediately following within the hotel. as they make their way to the back garden, hailey is stunned by the beauty of it all. there are fairy lights decorating the whole perimeter, clearly illuminating the make-shift altar where the vows would be held. over the altar, there is a gorgeous arc with lights intertwined and a pathway made up entirely of flowers. the color scheme is off-white and light pink and it blends together beautifully.

“i have to hand it to them; this place looks amazing,” hailey murmurs low enough for only jay to hear.

jay smiles, grabbing two flutes of champagne from the waiter passing through. “you ever think of how your wedding would look?” he asks as he hands her a flute.

hailey chokes into her first sip. “god no,” she licks her lips and jay stares. “after everything we deal with and see on a daily basis, thinking of something like my own wedding just seems so miniscule and pointless.”

“so, you’re a vegas wedding type of girl?” he smirks.

hailey returns his devious look. “if it saves me time and money, i'll cheers to that,” she clinks her glass with jay's before turning to scan the crowd. it was part of her nature to surveillance everyone around her, even if she didn’t realize it. “oh hey, that’s nate, by the way.”

she points to a tall man, dressed in a pressed black tux, laughing with what jay assumed were his groomsmen. jay surveys him for a second, well aware of hailey’s eyes on him, and shrugs, “you can do better,” he says as he takes another sip of champagne.

hailey beams and he fucking loves it.

but he sees her smile fade away as the man in question starts making his way over to them.

“oh my god,” she panics, “here we go.”

“relax,” he murmurs into her ear, sliding closer, “we’ve got this.”

nate reaches them and jay takes a moment to study him up close. he looks polite enough, but jay knows better. nate’s eyeing hailey like she’s a piece of meat and he’s definitely not into that. he decides he doesn’t like the guy.

“hailey! i’m so glad you could make it!”

jay glances at hailey and sees the strain in her features. he can almost read her mind; is this guy serious?

“thanks nate, and congratulations,” she turns to jay with adoration in her eyes (wow, she’s good). “i want you to meet my boyfriend, this is jay.”

jay sets nate with a cool but polite look. “hey, it’s nice to meet you. and congratulations on your wedding, this place looks beautiful.”

nate reaches for jay’s outstretched hand and doesn’t falter under his tight grip. “thanks, man. how did you meet hailey?”

“we’re partners,” he replies easily.

nate raises his eyebrows. “robbery-homicide?”

“no, i joined the intelligence unit at the 21st district a few years ago,” hailey jumps in.

nate looks oddly surprised. “oh, you left? i didn’t know you moved to the other side of town.”

hailey smirks, “yeah, guess i just had to leave some stuff behind.”

nate nods, teetering awkwardly. “sorry, i just always thought you’d be a lifer down there,” he says with such a nonchalant attitude that jay is raising his eyebrows at his audacity. “you always said you weren’t cut out for more.”

hailey opens her mouth to respond but she looks temporarily stunned; jay decides to step in with some truth bombs. “hey man, hailey’s an amazing detective. it it wasn’t for her, i probably wouldn’t even be here today.”

“wait a minute, what the fuck?” hailey snaps and jay bites his lip. her voice is low because she knows better than to embarrass the guy too horribly on his wedding day, but he deserves this. “i never said that, you said that! because you didn’t want a fiancée more successful than you!”

jay casts a quick look at her when he hears her say fiancée, but she’s too heated to notice.

nate also looks affronted that she mentioned that, or that she responded at all. clearly we’re both remembering different situations.”

“yeah, clearly,” hailey snorts. “anyway, congratulations on your wedding day but respectfully, fuck off.”

jay is absolutely stunned as she grabs his wrist and yanks him in the direction of the outdoor bar. she quickly asks the bartender for four tequila shots and downs the first one, all within the minute.

jay has literally never been more attracted to her.

“can you believe the nerve of that guy?” hailey hisses angrily. she takes another shot. “i swear he just invited me to piss me off.”

jay pushes the other two shots in her direction. it's one in the afternoon; he can’t fathom having two tequila shots at that hour, but hailey has already had a day and she clearly needs them. with jay’s silence, hailey stills after her third tequila shot. her brows furrow and worry lines appear on her face.

“shit, was that too much?” she says, panicking. “did i overreact and make a big scene on his wedding day for no reason?”

jay smiles, instantly putting her worries at ease. “oh no, not at all. he was an ass and deserved it, trust me,” she nods and takes the last shot. “that was pretty badass.”

hailey snorts, rolling her eyes. “he's lucky i didn’t punch him in the face. i have a pretty great right-cross.”

“let's not give the groom a black eye before he’s even gotten to the altar,” he says as he leads her to the seating area with a hand on her lower back. other guests are starting to find their seats, while the groom and his party make their way to the altar. “we’re still not halfway through this thing.”

🎊🎊🎊🎊🎊🎊🎊🎊🎊🎊🎊🎊🎊🎊🎊🎊🎊🎊🎊🎊🎊🎊🎊🎊🎊

the ceremony is standard; nothing special.

jay and hailey politely stand for the bride to make her grand entrance. her dress is big and poofy and hailey hates everything about it, but she stands quietly and watches. her anxiety is out the roof given the situation she’s currently in but having jay next to her really does calm her. he's not doing anything special; they’re only touching the bare minimum, sitting right next to each other, but that’s all she needs to relax her.

the reception that follows is also very bland. they are seated with three other couples, who are surprisingly very friendly. hailey doesn’t recognize them, so they must have come into the picture after her departure.

“hey,” jay murmurs, a few minutes after they dim the lights for dancing. “i don’t want to pry, but i’m curious.”

truthfully, hailey has been waiting for this question since her outburst earlier with nate. she’s surprised he didn’t ask sooner, considering his lack of patience when it comes to curiosity. “what do you want to know?” she levels him with a slightly smirk.

“come on, hailey,” jay gives into a half smile. “why didn’t you tell me you were engaged to him?”

hailey pauses for a moment, actually thinking about her response. “the truth?” he nods solemnly. “i didn’t really want you to know about my failed relationships.”

jay’s eyebrows raise to his hairline. “your failed relationships?” he’s almost laughing. “hailey, have you even seen all of mine?”

she laughs, “i know, but i don’t know,” she’s twisting her fingers together to keep her busy. “i just – i really loved him. and then that happened, and i felt like it was my fault, you know? like i did something to warrant that. i didn’t want people knowing. especially you; i didn’t want you to think any less of me.”

jay’s eyes go wide and he shakes his head. “hailey, i can’t even begin to tell you how wrong everything you just said is.”

hailey looks at him shyly; she’s not a shy person.

“i would never think any less of you; you’re one of the best people i’ve ever known,” he says seriously, his eyes star deep into her soul; she can’t escape. “also, none of that was your fault. if he was stupid enough to lose you, he’s an idiot and nothing you did caused that.”

hailey smirks at him. “i know that now. he’s trash and i deserve better.”

the smile jay sends her is blinding. “good. you do deserve better.”

he continues to look at her and she doesn’t tear her gaze away; she can’t.

their tender moment is interrupted by the screeching of chairs, as the bride and groom decide to make their rounds to every table. and because hailey has been extremely lucky lately, all the other couples are either on the dance floor or at the bar when they decide to come to jay and hailey's table.

hailey can see them approaching, and she wants to run, yet tragically, she cannot.

“you got me?” she mumbles to jay quietly, grasping his hand automatically.

he looks at her with a fond smile and tightens his grip. “always.”

both detectives brace themselves for the next few minutes. they've faced flying bullets and bombs, but somehow, this feels worse.

“hailey!” kathy squeals, dipping in for a hug. hailey goes rigid and her facial expression changes to one of pure discomfort. “so glad you could make it! and who’s this?” she sets her eyes on jay, and now it’s his turn to be uncomfortable. nate has looked uncomfortable during this whole interaction so far; probably has something to do with hailey telling him to fuck off. respectfully.

“i'm jay,” he introduces himself, thrusting out his hand before she has the idea to hug him too. kathy pauses, but shakes his hand anyway; clearly, she wanted a hug.

kathy raises an eyebrow. “you’re the new partner, right?”

“sure,” jay shrugs. “it's been a while, but yeah, you could say that.”

she raises her eyebrows suggestively in hailey's direction. “i can definitely see why you wanted more than just partnership with this hunk.”

hailey stares at her. “do you hit on everyone’s boyfriends, or just all of mine?”

jay's eyes widen, but he keeps his composure for hailey’s sake. kathy’s face blanches and she straightens as if hailey has just slapped her across the face; well, she may as well have.

“hailey, please don’t forget you’re here at my wedding, as per my request,” kathy deadpans in response and if jay thinks they were in trouble before, they’re really in for it now. “do not disrespect me like that.”

hailey’s eyes squint and the words she’s hearing are causing her physical pain. “are you kidding me?” she hisses. “you slept with my fiancé and had the audacity to invite me to the wedding, so who the hell do you think you are sassing right now?”

kathy purses her lips. “i thought you’d be happy for me. we were such great friends.”

hailey is about to lose her shit. “jay, i’m going to hit her,” she says quickly and jay decides to take charge and jump in.

“alright, you know what? it's your wedding day, we don’t need to make a scene,” he says calmly; hailey is still breathing deeply. “but you both should acknowledge you did hailey dirty and she deserves an apology, at least.”

the bride looks affronted that he would even get involved. “apology? she should be apologizing to me! she’s causing me stress! you don’t upset the bride on her wedding day!”

“i’m about to do more than just upset you,” hailey growls, quickly standing up and planting her feet firmly to the ground. jay has no doubt in his mind that hailey will not hesitate to give the bride a black eye, but he really can’t let her do that.

with his rapid instincts, he’s able to wrap an arm around her waist and yank her into his side and farther away from kathy, who pales and flinches a few steps back. to anyone watching, it merely looks like he’s unable to keep his hands off his girlfriend and pulled her closer for a quick cuddle. it seems this is enough to snap hailey out of whatever revenge-infused fantasy she’s living in her head. “i'm going to leave,” she says calmly, “and i would like to say i wish you both nothing but happiness but really, i want to tell you both to go fuck yourselves. respectfully.”

with those last few words, hailey grabs her clutch, jay’s hand and pulls him in the direction of the exit doors.

and once again, he has never been so attracted to her.

“oh my god, i can’t believe that just happened,” she groans as soon as she exits the building. she instantly leans against the brick wall and allows the coldness to distract her. at his silence, she peaks an eye open to see him gaping at her. his cheeks are flushed, and he looks flustered, which is highly unusual for jay.

“what's wrong?” she questions. “why are you looking at me like that?”

he seems to snap out of it but he is blushing like no tomorrow. hailey is shocked; this literally never happens. “it's nothing, sorry,” he mumbles. “you just look really good.”

hailey has to strain her ears because she almost can’t hear him, but she does. “what?”

jay huffs but decides he can’t get out of this now. “apparently i have a thing for angry hailey,” he says honestly, and she’s floored. “i’m probably crossing a line here or something, but i'm very attracted to you right now.”

jay is being bold and meeting her blue eyes, but hailey is slightly speechless.

“and if i'm being honest, i really want to kiss you. i've wanted to all night.”

hailey decides to feed off his confidence and play along. “what's stopping you?”

he forces his eyes not to widen at her forward manner and instead takes a step closer to her position against the brick wall. “so many things…” he groans, his hands finding her waist.

“but?”

“but i don’t care.”

his lips meet hers tantalizingly slow.

his kiss is soft, much like his entire character when it comes to hailey. one of his hands reaches up to cradle her cheek and hailey surges forward because it’s not enough. jay pulls back.

“finally,” hailey mumbles, cuddling her face into his neck. he holds on tight, the overwhelming scent of her enough to keep him smiling. “i've been wanting to kiss you since the first time you got shot.”

honestly, he can’t remember when he started wanting to kiss her but he’s damn well glad he finally did. “thanks for coming with me today,” she says quietly, “it’s hard for me to open up about my past, but i really hope i can get there with you.”

he's still holding on tight, and he’s smiling as she sneaks a glance at him. “we have all the time in the world.”

[lady-daydream]

Random things about being in a relationship with Danse – Fallout 4

He is a man of routine. Before he met the s/s those of the Prydwen knew where to find him at any given time unless he was on a mission. When he finally starts dating the s/s naturally many (s/s included) thought he would place his relationship second to his work, with shows of affection as well as the time spent together being sparse at best. However, to everyone's surprise Danse quickly changed and adjusted his life to fit s/s in it. Before when Danse was off duty he could be found training younger soldiers or that the practice range himself. Now he is either talking to S/s or training with them. If either of them is working overtime, the other will bring food and sit by them until they are done. If either of them is sent of a mission, they will be side to side or the first in the reinforcements. Since both s/s and Danse find a way to make it work without affecting their job and missions most of the brotherhood find them both a model couple of the brotherhood. The reason however to Danse's sudden change to his routine was to the fact that being with another person that understood not only his loyalty and pride for the brotherhood but also saw him the moments where he was more than just a soldier, holding him when he feels weak, giving him affection when he is down, and almost being a personal cheerleader. And he quickly realised that someone who is willing to be by his side was someone important enough to adjust his life for so he can balance his life's work with the person who had found their way in this heart.  

fs/s will accidentally confuse Danse for Nate sometimes. Though this doesn't happen often since s/s will try their hardest to not let on that there are similarities between to two. He isn't offended by it, knowing he is confused by soldiers a few times when in battle, as well as knowing s/s is suffering from the loss of someone so important to them and is mourning even if the say they are over Nate and no longer wears the ring. Whenever s/s wakes up from a nightmare, mumbling that she had had a dream that he had died and was sorry if she woke up Shawn Danse quickly comforts her until she is awake enough to recognise his voice and she breaks out of it. She ends up apologising profusely afterwards, but Danse just holds s/s, kissing her gently on the forehead and cheeks until her breathing is steady. He then will ask her to remember some good memories of her and Nate making her smile at the more positive nostalgia, or if the past is too much he will ask them what they need to get done tomorrow or make small talk about something they know they can speak a lot on. 

He is more affectionate when there is no pressure or expectation to talk. He still stumbles on his words knowing whatever he is going to say won't convey the message he wants to s/s. To stop this, he trying to tell you he loves you though physical affections 

Danse has never been afraid of heights, and he finds it relaxing when the world he knows is a distance away and he can look onto it. s/s is terrified of heights however and will try and take any other way to get to their destination. When however, there is no other choice Danse will try and hiddenly hold their hand to remind them that he won't let anything bad happen to them. 

 He always prefers to sleep with s/s by his side. He finds their presence relaxing and he quickly stops tensing. When they are in the Prydwen they will both sleep in separate bunkers however after blind betrayal the both will share a bed happily. Both Danse and S/s have a weapon on them as they sleep since the both of you have been attacked while you sleep. Most of the time though you two ends up getting a peaceful rest. 

Danse is a hugger. He doesn't look like one but in private he will happily hug s/s from behind. Due to his height his hugs are almost consuming. But s/s jokingly calls them bear hugs. 

 Danse is naturally protective, he will quickly slide an arm around s/s and scare the poor sod who tried to make a move. However, as time goes on in the relationship he quickly learns to tone down on the protectiveness due to knowing s/s can defend themselves and he wouldn't want to be overwhelming. it doesn't mean though he won't punch anyone that tries to physically hurt s/s. 

Danse can draw. He isn't the best, but his style is a mix of sketchy and realistic. This habit started, from what he can remember, when he was a scavenger. He would draw whatever and whoever he could see. When he joined the brotherhood of steel on his breaks and leaves drawings and sketching his comrades. However, when he went to the commonwealth he stopped, being too busy to draw. When he finally shows his drawings to s/s who responded extremely positively, asking him to draw more often so that they could have a reminder of the places they could go, he starts to draw again. When him and s/s start dating he draws them a lot more. He even drew a drawing of them that could fit inside a locket which he wears round his neck, that he always looks at when he is away from s/s. 

He is generally never too tired to talk to s/s. He will happily listen to them rant or just think outload. He will happily help them think through a plan and tries not to judge certain topics. he is still veer set in certain ways and s/s knows deep mental programming will take years or more to overcome but s/s is willing to stick by Danse's side no matter what.  

S/s will steal Danse's shirts. If s/s must help people far away Danse will always find 1 t-shirt missing. S/s finds the smell comforting plus the brotherhood clothes are surprisingly thermal and keep s/s warm. 

I'm soo sorry this took a long while to be written, university issues are currently taking up all of my time. Hopefully people enjoy this, writing this was a great way to take my mind off things. I'm sorry in advance if their are many spelling mistakes please comment if you see any so I can correct them. :)

 If anyone has any suggestions/imagine/headcannons please just message me or comment and I will try and write it as quickly and to the best as my ability. I hope everyone has an amazing day, love you all <3 

[minuteminx]

Revolutionary

Pairing: Preston Garvey/ Female Sole Survivor

Summary: In the aftermath of personal tragedies, Preston and Charlie both seek to make a difference in the Commonwealth and those around them. They could never anticipate the impact that they will have on eachother in the process.

Chapter Five: Old Appalachia

Chapter Summary:  Charlie's not sure she's cut out for the Commonwealth, but fate thinks otherwise.

[First Chapter]

[Previous Chapter]

[AO3 Link]

“By being natural and sincere, one often can create revolutions without having sought them.” ― Christian Dior

Outskirts of Concord, December 2287

Charlie had always been somewhat of an idealist.  She had to be, growing up in bumfuck Appalachia in a family just high enough above the poverty line that the government wasn’t legally required to offer financial assistance.  Her dad was an overworked, underpaid line worker in some automotive factory, and despite never once stepping foot in a coal mine, he carried his ancestors’ resentment toward anything and everything “nucular,” as he called it.  He’d always pop off with these wild conspiracy theories about atom bombs and the end of times.  It seemed laughably prophetic now.

Her mom had stayed at home, reading books to her and her little brother, and promising them they could change the world if they wanted to.  It was those words that kept Charlie going, pushed her towards that Ph.D. that had seemed so monumental back then, so important.  Now, as she stomped around an irradiated wasteland, caked in blood and aching from head to toe, she realized how fruitless it had all been. All those years training to help other people only to spend over two centuries in cryostasis and wake up unable to even help herself.

Thank God for Preston. She didn’t know what would have happened to her if she hadn’t almost died trying to help him at Concord.  She really had no business in a suit of power armor or holding a minigun and fighting a fifteen-foot tall lizard.  Even nearly two months later, she couldn’t come up with a single logical reason why she volunteered so readily.  Was she now going to throw her life away just because a friendly face asked her to?  She laughed at herself.  Probably.

Charlie found herself doing a lot of things simply because Preston asked her to.  Grueling, difficult tasks like “eating enough,” “staying hydrated,” and “getting a good night’s sleep.”  He drove a hard bargain, that Garvey.  What did he take her for anyway? Someone stable?  

In the past month, he’d been taking time away from the laundry list of other things he had on his plate, just to teach her some excruciatingly basic Commonwealth survival skills.  She’d learned the names of all the things that could possibly kill her: Raiders, Gunners, zombie-like creatures called feral ghouls, supermutants, various types of wildlife threats, and radiation.  Everything was irradiated, from the food to the water to the thunderstorms .  At this rate, she just figured she was either going to die or grow an extra ear on her forehead. It was a tossup.    

She’d also asked Preston to help her learn to protect herself.  She didn’t like the idea of guns or violence or any of it, but it was foolish to walk through Hell defenseless. He tried so hard to teach her to shoot one of those god awful laser muskets, but it took too long to ready a shot that she was inevitably going to miss anyway.  He had eventually given up on trying, and instead placed a 10mm in her hand.  It was nicer than the one she’d used in Concord, with glow sights and an extended mag.  Apparently Sturges had fixed it up for her. She was beginning to believe there was nothing that man couldn’t do with a roll of duct tape and half an hour.

“MS. CHARLOTTE!”

Charlie jumped as Codsworth abruptly hovered in front of her face.  She’d almost forgotten the Mr. Handy unit had accompanied her on an assignment for Preston, out in Lexington.  Once she’d shown some proficiency with a weapon, he thought it would be good practice for her to take out a “small” band of Raiders who were troubling a nearby settlement.  It was not small, and while she dealt with the issue and convinced the Tenpines settlers to throw their lot in with the Minutemen, Codsworth knew she’d not gotten out of the ordeal unscathed.

“What, Codsworth,” she asked, more annoyed than he deserved.  

“Mum!  Oh thank goodness you responded,” the robot exclaimed giddily floating about in front of her, “You have been staring off into nothing for the past hour of our journey despite my efforts to entertain you with conversation.”

She had not noticed him speaking once, well, at least not since he’d mentioned Nate and Shaun when they’d passed by the rusty remains of a playground.  Maybe she’d tuned him out after that. “Sorry Codsworth.  I have a lot on my mind.”

“Are you aware that you are bleeding?”

“What?” Charlie glanced down to the large tear in her vault suit, and the blood pouring from a bullet wound in her thigh.  She hadn’t even felt it since she used one of those stimpak syringes.  She’d almost forgotten she had it. “ Shit. ”

“Such language, mum!  Hardly befitting of a lady of your stature.”

“Find me a lady of any stature who doesn’t curse when she’s been shot in the leg,” Charlie quipped, grunting as she sat down to redress the wound, “Do you still have that gauze you picked up at the plant?”

“Yes, of course,” came his quick reply as he produced a bundle of cleanish gauze in one of his metal arms, and handed it to her.

“Thanks,” Charlie said, taking the cloth from him and beginning to work, wrapping it tightly around her leg.  She just needed something to stop the bleeding until they made it back to Sanctuary.  They weren’t too far now, maybe a mile or so from the bridge.

Once she found her amateur wound dressing to be suitable, Charlie continued on back to the settlement, Codsworth prattling on endlessly about the bliss of pre-war life.  She understood where he was coming from.  That didn’t mean she wanted to hear it.

She stopped suddenly in her tracks when she spotted movement ahead of them, off to the side of the dirt road.  It looked like a man in raider leathers, digging for something.  

“What is it, Ms. Charlotte,” Codsworth asked loudly and without an ounce of tact.

Charlie shushed him, but it was too late, the man had already heard them, rising to his feet and moving his hand to draw his weapon.  She didn’t let him have the chance, firing several rounds into his chest before he could.  She hated that she was getting good at that.

She approached the body, prone and lifeless, and knelt down, beginning to rifle through his pockets for anything useful: ammo, stimpaks, caps . Yes, caps .  If anyone had told her that in the future the formal currency would be Nuka Cola bottle caps, she wouldn’t have tossed so many of them in the recycling bin.

It wasn’t until she looked up that she noticed that there was another body, a young woman lying in a shallow grave also donning the signature raider attire.  Her arms were crossed ceremoniously across her chest, hubflowers scattered across and around her body.  Charlie looked down at the man she’d just killed and remembered that he had been digging.  

She felt sick.  In her mind, she conjured an entire tragic scene in which a poor, mourning raider had simply been trying to bury a loved one and was startled by the obnoxious shouting British robot.  When he reached for his gun, just a reflex, he’d been shot in the chest by some cagey redhead with an itchy trigger finger.  If she’d only paid more attention, she might have noticed sooner and she and Codsworth could have taken a wider arc around the man.  He wouldn’t have had to die.

Pocketing her looted items, she holstered her gun and bent down to pick up the shovel, starting first by filling in the grave of the lady raider.  It was the least she could do.

“Pardon me, Ms. Charlotte,” Codsworth asked, attempting to be gentle, “What are you doing?”

She sniffed her nose, fighting back the tears she wanted to cry, and pointed the shovel at the woman.  “He was just trying to bury her.”

Charlie swore she could hear the gears in Codsworth’s massive metal head clicking and smoking as he tried to make sense of her behavior.  After a moment, he spoke.  “Need I remind you that these scoundrels would have murdered us on sight?”

She shook her head and stuck the shovel into the dirt.  “Doesn’t matter.”

As she worked, her memory was flooded with painful, frozen flashes from the vault.  Images of the callous man who killed Nate and stole her baby, of Nate’s stiff, frozen body that still lay in the cryochamber, perfectly preserved with the exception of the fatal gunshot wound in his chest.  Charlie had opened the chamber, hoping she could save him, or at the very least say goodbye, but he was already gone.  She’d slipped the wedding ring from his finger and left him there, entombed along with the rest of her neighbors who unwittingly signed themselves up for a sick science project.  When Preston learned what had happened in 111, he offered to help her lay everyone to rest properly, but she couldn’t bring herself to do it.  She couldn’t stomach the idea of walking back into that frozen hell.

She could, however, offer some absolution to this Raider.  

“I’m going to bury him next to her,” she announced, looking at Codsworth before moving over several feet and beginning to dig a new plot.

The robot protested with an exasperated huff. “I applaud your sentimentality, mum, but it is getting quite late.  At this rate it will be completely dark before we return to Sanctuary Hills.

“If you want to go on ahead, you can,” Charlie said with a dismissive wave up the road, “Tell Preston I’ll be along shortly.”  “Perish the thought,” Codsworth retorted, properly offended. “I will not abandon you to the wasteland at night.  Just… do please hurry.”

Charlie worked as fast as she could, but her body was weary from her days of journeying and fighting, so digging and filling in the grave had taken longer than it should have.  When she finally finished, the clock on her PipBoy read “23:00,” and the sky was completely dark, well except for the stars.  They, at least, had survived the apocalypse.

It was after midnight before Charlie hobbled across the bridge and into Sanctuary Hills, Codsworth zooming past her, a cacophony of buzzing and whirring and shouting for Preston.  At this rate he was going to wake up the entire settlement.  She managed to make it over to the home where Sturges had set up his workshop, and flopped herself down on the concrete with a grunt.  The effects of the stimpak had worn off, and with the bullet still lodged firmly in her leg, it hadn’t healed entirely and it throbbed like a bitch.  

There was a hurried rustle of footsteps, accompanied by Codsworth’s voice complaining about how she’d “foolishly buried some raiders against all good judgement.” If anyone needed a chill pill, it was that robot.  

“Thank you for taking care of her, Codsworth,” Preston said, a gentle laugh falling off the ends of his words, “I’ll handle it from here.”

“You’re most welcome, Mr. Garvey.  I apologize for my mistress’ recklessness.” His words were pointed and Charlie couldn’t believe she was being tattled on by her own Mr. Handy.   He zoomed off to busy himself with the fruitless task of trying to restore their old home.

Preston shook his head, and continued to laugh as he approached Charlie, “Man, that machine is something else.”

“No joke,” came Charlie’s weak reply, as she attempted to adjust herself to sit more comfortably.

“Whoa,” Preston exclaimed and rushed to her side. “You okay?

He hadn’t noticed the wound, and for whatever reason Charlie didn’t want him to.  “Yeah.  I’m fine.”

He frowned, warm brown eyes flicking down to the blood seeping through the gauze on her leg, and then looked back up at her.  He smiled, but she could tell he was worried.  “That’s funny, ‘cause you don’t look too fine.”

“I beg your pardon,” she bantered.  Deflection.  She couldn’t stand the way his concerned expression made her feel. “I know I’m not a supermodel or anything but--”

“Charlie.”

She faltered under his gaze, tears immediately bubbling up in her eyes.  She took a deep breath and fought them back before speaking.  “There were more Raiders than we thought.  Codsworth and I got overwhelmed and I got shot in the leg, but I’m fine.  People get shot around here all the time, right?”

“We try to avoid getting shot,” he remarked, his exasperation not quite as shrill as Codsworth’s, “How many raiders were there?”

“Fifteen, maybe twenty.”

“Jesus.” He rose to his feet and walked over to the metal cabinets just past one of the workbenches. He knelt and opened one of the doors, reaching far back inside. He emerged with a full fifth of Old Appalachia and a medical kit that was, like everything else in the world, held together by duct tape.  He returned to his previous position at Charlie’ side and sat down making an almost concerted effort to make eye contact.  “You know I wouldn’t have sent you out by yourself if I’d--”

“This isn’t your fault, Preston.” She lay a hand on his arm, and offered him a smile. “If anything it’s mine for rolling in the front entrance, guns blazing.”

He laughed.  “Man, you’ve got to be more careful.”

“No promises.” Charlie lifted her hand from his arm and pointed to the bottle of whiskey.  “What’s that for?”

“You,” Preston answered, picking it up and handing it to her, “We have to get this bullet out of you before it gets infected, and you’re going to want something to dull the pain.  So, start drinking.”

“Say no more.” Popping open the bottle, she kicked back a long, burning swig.  The whiskey tasted like home and two-hundred years ago.  She watched as he opened up the medical kit and dug through the items inside.  “Have you ever done this before?”

“What? Dug out a bullet,” he asked, bitter smirk on his lips, “Yeah. More times than I would have liked.  Like you said, people get shot around here all the time.”

Charlie took another drink and swallowed hard, the alcohol not working fast enough to keep her pulse from jumping at the sight of metal tweezers and rubbing alcohol. “How bad does it hurt?”

Preston laughed again, glancing over at her this time. “Bad.”

“Well… that’s comforting.”

“I’m just being honest,” he explained, positioning himself so that he had a good look at her affected leg.  He took his gloves off and looked up at her, “May I?” She nodded nervously, and watched as he unwound the bandage and cut away the remaining pieces of vault suit.  She hadn’t gotten a good look at the injury until now, and she was thankful that the bullet seemed to be of a small caliber, like those that turrets fired, and wasn’t lodged too deeply.  Under the bright lamplight, she could see it’s dull metal reflection.  Preston sighed in relief, most likely noticing the same thing.

That it would hurt “bad” had been an honest understatement.  Even after several shots worth of whiskey, the sharp burning pain of alcohol and tweezers pulling the bullet from her thigh was enough to make her light headed.  Even Preston’s gentleness couldn’t spare her that much, and she squirmed and held her breath just to keep from screaming and waking up the others.  When it was all said and done, she was trembling, out of breath, and sobbing like a child.  

“Congratulations,” Preston said softly as he began to dress the now clean wound, “You survived your first Commonwealth surgery.”

Charlie let out a weary laugh and let her head fall back against the wall behind her, looking up at the ceiling, eyes unfocused. “Thanks, doc.”

“Don’t mention it.”  

There was a long pause in which she heard him inhale as if he were going to say something, and then exhale as if he thought better of it.  She brought her eyes down to him, effects of the alcohol really hitting her, along with the endorphin high.  “Something on your mind?”

He stopped what he was doing to meet her gaze. “Why’d you go to all that trouble to bury those raiders?”

“I…” She began, but hesitated, worried that he’d disapprove of her compassion for members of a group that’d terrorized him for days on end at Concord, who killed some of his friends. “I thought it was the right thing to do.  When we walked up on him he was in the middle of burying a comrade.  He’d spread flowers over her and everything…”

She choked on the last words and trailed off, but Preston seemed to understand, as he nodded and went back to dressing her wound.

“I feel sorry for them sometimes too,” he admitted, as he tied a neat knot in the bandage, “They might be messed up, but they’re still people.”

“Right.” Charlie nodded.

“You’re a good person,” he stated, eyes fixing on hers. “I’m… I’m glad you decided to stick around.”

Her face became hot. It must have been the whiskey finally getting to her, she told herself.  After all, it wouldn’t make sense for her to get all flustered over a compliment.  She carelessly let her hand fall on his arm again. “Me too.”

Charlie awoke the next day, more afternoon than morning, tucked neatly into a bed that she could scarcely remember crawling into.  In fact, everything from the time Preston had finished dressing her wound was blurry and she made a mental note to avoid the Old Appalachia from now on, or at least to refrain from drinking half a fifth in one sitting.  She crawled out from beneath the thin blanket and sat up, leg aching more than it had since she’d gotten shot.  Damn.

Glancing down, she noticed she was wearing a pair of faded jeans that were too short for her and an old white tee that exposed her navel when she raised her arms to stretch and yawn.  They were not her clothes, and she’d no idea whose clothes they were, or how she got out of her vault suit and into them.  She snorted out a laugh at the thought of poor Preston fumbling around in the dark trying to help her change.  She doubted that’s what happened, but her memory was too fuzzy to say it hadn’t.

Across the room, folded neatly atop her dresser was a familiar blue and yellow fabric, and she hopped up-- too quickly, wincing at the pain in her leg-- and limped over to take a look.  Picking it up and unfolding it, it took her a moment to realize that it wasn’t her whole vault suit anymore, missing an entire bottom half, and split open down the front.  She also noticed that there were neatly stitched seams along the edges. A jacket?  Someone had gone to the effort of making a jacket from her vault suit and she didn’t even know who to thank.  

She slipped one arm in and then the other. It fit like a glove, a much more comfortable, less skin-tight glove than it had previously.  A quiet knock on the doorframe nearby drew Charlie’s attention and she darted her head up to see Marcy standing in the doorway, smirk in place of her signature scowl.   Suddenly, Charlie remembered.

“I’m glad it fits,” Marcy said as she looked Charlie up and down.  Preston had woken the other woman up the night before to ask if she had anything Charlie could wear.  Marcy had cursed and complained, but ended up shooing him away and helped her get changed and into bed.  Apparently she was also the culprit behind Charlie’s new jacket.  “Couldn’t salvage the whole thing.”

“You did this,” Charlie asked, examining the sleeves.

“Yep,” Marcy stated, looking down at the ground as if she was embarrassed, “Couldn’t get back to sleep after Garvey woke me up, and figured it might be good to have.  Considering none of my clothes are quite long enough for your beanpole ass.”

Charlie laughed, and tugged at the bottom of the t-shirt. “Thanks, Marcy.”

“Yeah, well don’t get used to it.  I still think you’re useless,” Marcy retorted with a huff, but it was clear she didn’t mean what she said. “And I want my clothes back as soon as you find something else to wear.”

Charlie nodded, and Marcy turned to walk away, but stopped and pivoted back around on her heel, pointing an index finger at her.  “Mama’s been waiting for you to wake up.  She found some Jet this morning and is off her rocker talking about some bright glowing heart shit.  Just a heads up.”

Before Charlie could even say her thanks, Marcy was gone. Turning her attention back to herself, she realized she had no clue where she’d left her PipBoy.  She scanned the room, and saw it sat on the floor near her boots.  Picking it up and examining it for damage, she fastened it to her wrist and then slipped on her boots before heading out into the hallway.

It was a bit disorienting at first.  She wasn’t in the place where she normally slept, instead she stood in the house that had become the common area for all of the settlers.  She must’ve been too woozy and injured to make it farther into the cul de sac.  She turned to her left and spied Mama Murphy in the open living room, sitting in her specially crafted chair, feet dangling happily just a few inches from the ground.

“Hey kid,” she hollered, motioning for Charlie to come closer, and Charlie obliged, secretly hoping that her doped up insight would give more answers about where Shaun had been taken.

“Mornin’ Mama,” Charlie answered and made her tedious way over to the old woman and sat down on the sofa near her.

“The Sight,” Mama croned, “It’s shown me more about your boy, your sweet boy.”

Charlie winced, unsure if she wanted to know now, but leaned forward and took the old woman’s outstretched, weathered hand. “What is it,” she pleaded.

Just as Marcy said, Mama Murphy recited a prophecy about Diamond City, and people with chained up hearts refusing to provide Charlie with answers about her son’s whereabouts.  With the exception of one.  One heart that would lead her way, “so bright against the dark alleys it walks.” It didn’t make sense, but she’d never been to Diamond City, didn’t have enough information to even begin to decipher it.

“What does that mean,” she asked clumsily

Mama smiled, and shook her head.  “Beats me, Kid.  I only know what the Sight shows me.  Maybe you get me some mentats, maybe I--”

“Now, Mama,” grumbled a familiar voice nearby, Charlie followed the old woman’s gaze to where it had been preemptively fixed on the door Sturges had just entered, face covered with smudges of oil, “You know Ms. Charlie’s not gonna fall for any of that nonsense.”

She shrugged. “Meh, you never know, Sturge.  Seems like she wants to find her boy.”

“Not sure the boss would like it too much if he knew you were abusin’ her good graces,” Sturges scolded her playfully as he popped open a bottle of Nuka Cola, and sat the cap in a pile with others on the counter.

“Preston's not my boss,” Mama scoffed, and then turned back to Charlie, “He’s waiting for you though, kid.”

“Preston?” Charlie asked, taken aback by the sudden change in topic. “Me? Why?

Mama and Sturges exchanged a glance before Sturges spoke up.  “Don’t really know to be honest.  He doesn’t really say much about how he’s feelin’, but he’s been worried ever since you left.”

“He sees your promise,” Mama chimed in, “He sees what I see.”

Even with the analgesic effects of a newly injected stimpak, walking the length of the neighborhood had proven to be a slow, awkward process for Charlie.  Her leg was weak, throbbing, and numb,  but at least it still worked.  At least she was still alive.  

The more time she had to think about her escapade at Corvega, the more she realized how she’d survived on nothing but pure, unadulterated luck.  She’d seen it in Preston’s eyes the night before, his bewilderment that she’d managed to take down a raider gang of that size.  She’d also seen his guilt, as if he intended to blame himself for something that had not happened.  For all she knew of him, that was normal.  Whatever had happened before she ran into him and the others in Concord really did a number on the guy.

Charlie heard him before she saw him, humming and making an effort to tune a two hundred year-old guitar.  A smile twitched on her lips, heart warming at the sight of him sat on a rusty patio chair, surrounded by an audience of lawn flamingos.  He had his hat off and laying on the table. In her two months of knowing him, she’d never seen him so relaxed.

“Your G’s a little sharp there Garvey,” she called out to him playfully as she made her way over and sat down in the chair across from him, propping her good leg up on the table.  He didn’t flinch or show any other signs of surprise at her approach, and continued to fiddle with the guitar.

“I know,” he answered, tearing his eyes away from the instrument to look up at her, “I can’t get the damn thing to cooperate.”

“It is at least a couple of centuries old.”

He sat the guitar down and turned to face her more squarely.  It was the first time she could remember getting a good look at him with his hat off.  Objectively, of course, he was handsome, with soft features and a smile that he definitely knew how to use to his benefit.  Preston was nice.  He wasn’t naive.  How could he have been, growing up in a world like the one she’d woken up in? The scar that ran from temple to cheekbone on the left side of his face was more prominent than it had seemed before,  masked in shadows.  It looked like an old wound, and she wondered how he’d gotten it.

“Well,” he said, amusement plain on his face, “Being a couple centuries old hasn’t stopped you.”

“It certainly tried,” she replied, ignoring the knots in her stomach and back of her mind telling her it might have been better if it had stopped her. “Damn near got the better of me at that plant.”

Preston nodded and let out a breath. “About that… how are you feeling?”

Charlie looked down at her injured leg and then back up at him. “Like shit,” she stated, “But I suppose that’s better than the alternative.”

“That’s for sure,” he said, sort of absentmindedly, gaze seeming unfocused and off in the distance.  There was a long, heavy pause before he spoke again. “I don’t think I ever got around to saying thank you last night.  I really appreciate everything you’ve done for us since Concord.  Without your help...well, I’m not sure we would have made it.”

“I…”Charlie began, but trailed off, “You’re welcome, Preston.”

There was another pause and he leaned forward and grabbed his hat, tracing his fingers across the brim.  “I know that I told you I’m one of the last Minutemen, but I don’t think I ever mentioned how it ended up that way.”

She shrugged. “I figured you would tell me when you were ready to talk about it.”

“I’ve started calling it the Quincy Massacre,” he said somberly.

“Quincy.  That’s where you and the others are from, right?”

“That’s right,” he answered, “Sturges, Mama Murphy, and the Longs all lived in Quincy when the Minutemen got a call for help dealing with some Gunners who’d been scouting the area.  I went with Colonel Hollis, my commanding officer at the time, and several others to answer the call.  It all went downhill after that.”

Unsteadily, Preston opened up to her, explaining how his contingent had been the only to arrive, and their numbers were too few to handle an assault by the much more heavily armed Gunners.  Colonel Hollis had called for help, only for a traitorous Minutemen veteran named Clint to show up and lead the Gunners right through the gates.  Preston told her how he had to watch settlers and his own comrades die, helpless and running through the streets.  He’d made a knee jerk decision to evacuate, and take as many survivors with him as he could along the way. Apparently, that wasn’t where the trouble had ended though.  He and his group traveled for over a month without finding anywhere safe to settle, facing disaster after disaster until finally getting trapped up in the museum at Concord.

The story was heartbreaking, but to watch Preston tell it was even more so.  Charlie could tell that he blamed himself for each and every loss that happened under his leadership.  He wore his guilt all over his face.  

“I’m sorry that happened to you,” she said softly, “And I’m glad that I showed up when I did, although I really have no idea how I managed to do… all of that.”

“It’s almost like it’s fate... or something,” he muttered.  His words were followed by an embarrassed laugh and a shake of his head as if he couldn’t believe his own mouth. “Sorry.  I’ve been spending too much time around Mama.”

“Hey.” Charlie laughed, and slid her leg off the table, leaning forward to pat his shoulder reassuringly. “Hope’s addictive. Just like the chems.”

Preston sighed. “Damn it if that’s not the truth.”

“Also, I think the old loon might be onto something,” she added, tapping a finger to her temple, “The only reason I limped out to this end of the settlement to see you was because Mama said you wanted to talk to me, something about you seeing my promise?”

“Well I’ll be damned,” he said appearing genuinely surprised, as if Mama Murphy’s clairvoyance was something new, “She’s out here stealing all of my thunder.”

The way he looked at her, as if she held the entirety of his hope in her trembling hands, made her shift uncomfortably.  The weight of Mama Murphy’s words now settled on her shoulders like a lead blanket.  She had never been one to believe in coincidences, but it was hard to accept that any of this was her destiny.

She cleared her throat, attempting to be nonchalant. “So, what’s this promise of mine everyone is so certain of?”

“The Commonwealth desperately needs the Minutemen,” Preston explained, “Now more than ever, and I plan to rebuild them stronger and more organized, without all of the petty squabbles and infighting that have plagued our history.”

“Sounds like you just need to find a good leader,” Charlie remarked, feeling helpful.

Preston eyed her intently and she suddenly regretted her words. “Exactly,” he said with a grin.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” she protested, waving her hands in front of her in a panic, “You’re not suggesting that I should lead the Minutemen, are you?”

“I am.”

“On what qualifications?”  She was nearly shrieking. “I know next to nothing about the organization, it’s history.  I can barely hold my own in a fight. I--”

“Charlie,” Preston remarked, rather directly, “The Minutemen aren’t an army.  We’re citizen soldiers, people of the Commonwealth banded together to protect ourselves and decide our own futures. We fell apart because our leadership forgot what we stood for, but you could bring us back together, bring the whole Commonwealth together.”

“Why me?” Charlie was flattered at his faith in her but so confused. “Why not you, or anyone else?”

“You helped us at Concord and every day since, without anything in it for you,” he explained, “You had your own problems to deal with and you helped us anyway.  Hell, you even won Marcy over.  That kind of compassion and selflessness has been in short supply around here for a long time.”

“Preston, I am flattered by all of this, but I’m not sure I can take on that kind of responsibility right now.”

“Listen,” he said, offering her a reassuring smile, “If you really don’t feel like you’re up to it, I’m not going to twist your arm.  I get that it’s hard to deal with other people’s problems when you’ve got your own.”

Charlie pondered for a moment, and asked, “What would I have to do?”

“Just what you’ve been doing,” he answered as if it were obvious as day, “Help people. Recruit. Spread hope. And I’ll be behind you every step of the way.”

She couldn’t deny that it was tempting.  As much of a mess as she was herself, she was compelled to help others.  If anything, it could give her something to focus on, a sense of purpose, a way to use her skill set.  She brought her eyes up to meet his, chased away the nagging doubts in her head, and nodded. “Okay.  I’ll do it.”

“You’re sure?”

“As sure as I’ll ever be.”

“Well, the leader of the Minutemen has always held the title of General, and since I’m the last of the Minutemen, there’s no one here to argue with me when I say it belongs to you now.”

“So I’m General Smart now?” Charlie laughed at the complete absurdity of the situation. Leading a bunch of neo-colonials to resettle Massachusetts wasn’t exactly how she pictured her life turning out.  “Does that mean I get a cute little hat?”

Preston returned her laughter, relief washing over his face at her decision. “If you want one, General, then absolutely.”

Perhaps her mother had been right all of those years ago.  Maybe she really could change the world.

[chroniclesinlacuna]

Warmth (read on ao3)

Pairing: m!detective (Dom Traore) x Mason Warnings: mentioned past violence/blood Words: ~1.5k Rating: G Summary: Some days, you just need to not be noticed while you deal with your hurts. And some days, it's not so bad to be seen.

It was way too warm. The thought scratched at the back of his mind even as he continued watching the fire. He’d started it when he’d come into the common room - and, in his defense, he’d been freezing when he’d gotten in. A late spring cold snap had hit the town and his car’s heater was older than he was, or damn near.

Idly fidgeting with the sleeves of his hoodie, he debated tugging it off, if only to enjoy the glow of the fire for a little longer yet. The warehouse was quiet around him - too late in the evening and too early in the night for anything to rouse the team to more than routine, if that - and he was enjoying the almost isolated feeling the amber light from the fire caused - casting soft leathers and plush carpets into sharp relief and blurring out the edges.

He hadn’t had much time to come up here lately, and even when he had, more of then than not he’d catch the team on their way out, if he caught them at all. And that was fine - everything was still settling and the growing pains of setting up a new base of operations were obvious. Still, sometimes it was nice to just...show up. And not have to worry about a welcome. It was a place he could disappear into without much thought, and one he was growing to cherish.

That said.

They didn’t screw around with the amenities. The room was large and open, and still, the fireplace managed to heat it all up without much trouble, and Dom wasn’t sure to be glad of it or not. Part of the temptation of a fireplace, sometimes, was the bite of cold just at your back. Or your partner’s back, if you managed to find some company.

He heard the click of the door behind him, and he dropped against the back of the couch, tilting his head back to get a look. Mason eyed him, raising an eyebrow from the doorway.

“When’d you get in, handsome?”

Dom hummed, then shrugged and straightened again. “Bout an hour ago.”

“Something wrong?” And the tone shift is slight - so thin and thready Dom’s sure it’ll melt away with the barest assurance. Dom can practically feel Mason’s gaze on him - isn’t disappointed when Mason rounds the couch, eyeing him almost carefully.

“Nah. Just didn’t feel like going home for a bit.” The strong bend of Mason’s shoulders bends as he accepts that answer, easy as anything, before dropping down on the couch beside him - legs splayed out in front of him like he owns the place.

There’s quiet then, Dom picking up one of his legs onto the couch to rest his chin on his knee, back to watching the fire, even as he knows Mason watches him. It’s curious now, though - the sharp edge to his gaze melted into easy observation. It’s a look Dom’s gotten used to over the past couple months; one he enjoys, if he lets himself think about it.

“Aren’t you hot?” He asks, after a long couple of moments. Dom raises an eyebrow, shifting his cheek to his knee to turn to look at him. Mason pauses, then scowls slightly. “Not like that. I’ve got eyes.”

Dom grins, even as Mason’s scowl deepens. “Yeah.” He offers, shrugging.

That gets him a look in return. Dom returns it steadily.

There’s a long couple of seconds where Dom’s sure Mason will drop it. It’s skirting around that thin-as-ice barrier they’ve cut out between themselves - one they crack and shake regularly, with sharp flirting and fleeting looks and soft touches they don’t admit to. But they haven’t crossed it yet. And Dom’s not sure Mason will here, either.

But he wouldn’t like Mason nearly as much if he didn’t surprise him sometimes.

“You’re sweating. Why’d you start the fire?”

“Well, it was cold when I got in.”

“...And you kept it going because…?”

“It’s pretty.”

That gets him a soft, half-frustrated growl, and Dom at least tries to hide his smile by turning back to the fire. Well. Maybe ‘tries’ is a strong word.

“You could take off your hoodie.” Is what Mason settles on.

“Mm. Little blunt for you, isn’t it?” Even as he says it, he finds himself reaching up to pull the neck closer around his skin. The silence that follows that movement is telling, in and of itself.

There’s quiet again - one even the crackle of the fire can’t quite fill, one that swallows the edge of the amber light, blurs the line between shadow and empty at the edges. There’s dots being connected, but Dom’s not entirely sure which ones - not entirely sure he wants to know either.

He hasn’t...talked about it with anyone. Not really. Tina noticed when his pressed shirts and slacks got switched for hoodies and jeans some days. But he’s pretty sure she chalked it up to late nights and rushed mornings. And it’s not like he’d completely switched his wardrobe out.

Just...some days he dug out the old college hoodies and broken in jeans. And if those days happened to be the ones his skin felt too tight around him, the ones he couldn’t quite catch his breath right, well. No one had noticed. And he hadn’t mentioned it.

But Mason’s noticing now. And that should feel just as suffocating.

And he knows why it doesn’t.

He’s almost startled when Mason speaks again, low, careful in that way he has that makes Dom remember what it’s like to be seen, “Do you want me to go?”

He shakes his head immediately, almost before Mason’s even done asking. “It’s not…” he sighs softly, wrapping his arms around his leg to bring it to his chest again, “It’s not you.” Dom just catches, out of the corner of his eyes, the slope to Mason’s shoulders as he settles back into the couch again.

“Then what is it?”

“Again, little blunt for you.” But Dom’s smiling now, even as Mason pulls a face at him. But...well. He did ask. And it was a...a thing. Between them.

They didn’t ask. Until they did. And that space...the intent it took to cross it...he wouldn’t refuse Mason that.

“It’s...nice. Sometimes.” He pauses, turning the words over in his mouth. He hadn’t articulated this to himself in a long while, and definitely not in relation to everything that had happened, let alone out loud. “Not to be noticed. While you deal with your hurts.” And that’s exactly what it was.

Some small, fragile pain still curled up in the back of his mind, screaming and screaming and screaming around a bloodied throat that could only gasp even as he choked. Wanting to run and hide in the dark of that warehouse and not draw anymore attention than it already had in its frailty.

Learning to live with that frailty again.

He had overcome Murphy. It hadn’t been easy, and he still remembers grey eyes, piercing against a backdrop he can’t see anymore, even in his nightmares. But he had done it. And he’d come out the other side. Some days, that was enough.

And some days...it just wasn’t. It wasn’t anything to cry over - at least, not anymore - and the bad days were fewer and farther between. But Dom was having to relearn how to be comfortable and confident in his own head. And he was getting there, slowly but surely, he was getting there.

“...Think you’d try harder not to be noticed there, handsome. A hoodie hardly does it,” And it’s weak, compared to his normal fare, but it’s also warm in a way that curls around the chill in his chest that the fire hadn’t been able to, and Dom can’t help but smile. “Come on. Roasting in here is just going to make us both miserable.” And then he’s standing in front of Dom, holding out a hand.

And they didn’t do this. That chasm between them echoing blindly into the space Mason’s offering. They didn’t do this.

But they cracked and twisted and pretended they didn’t when they pretended they weren’t looking. So Dom takes his hand, lets himself be pulled up. Lets himself lean into Mason’s space without hesitation.

And Mason holds them there, his free hand coming up to brush lightly down Dom’s neck in a way that should be...should be sharp. Should be wanting.

He finds comfort there instead. An acknowledgement. And a secret held.

“Nate bought that tea you like.” Weird, considering he hadn’t told Nate any such thing. Not that he’d put it past Nate to figure it out - lord knows he’d been at Dom’s place - office and apartment - enough to have picked up a pattern or two. But for one secret kept, Dom’s willing to hold another.

So, he just hums, and let’s Mason tug him out of that too warm room.