#with towing the line platonic touches and we have beauty

[lynd3w]

I want to hear every sound they can make. I want to feel the touch of their skin against mine. I want them to love me as if I were worth loving and as though I deserved it. Ever since we met, they have treated me with a love and admiration that I had never thought possible. It didn't matter that they were further along in their transitions than me. They saw me as an equal. And from then on, they showered me in love and affection. Feelings I'm not used to from people who didn't know me. But as time marched further and further, I found myself relying on them for support, strength, safety, and comfort. It was then that my feelings stopped being platonic. The love they give me stabs like a knife knowing They've already rejected me. I do not blame them, nor do I feel any ill will. I still love them just the same. More than I thought I was capable of. If they ever find these, they'll feel bad or guilty, and I hate knowing that. Even if they don't feel the same, they have been so unbelievably kind to me. I don't think I could love any person more, let alone 2.

Everything inside of me feels guilty. I know I can't control my feelings and that it's not wrong to feel how I do. But all I feel is guilt. Guilt for feeling this way when I know they don't. Guilt for knowing I can only make things worse. Guilt for knowing how weird and off-putting I can be. Guilt for hiding it from them. But yet I can't help myself. Like a sinner in books of old, I continue my feelings of love despite knowing that it's wrong. That it will cause nothing but pain. I am a fool in love. I hope that if they ever see this, they know how much I love them.

I want to weave a story with them. To see them every day, year after year. I want to help them achieve their dreams. I want to help them feel safe. I want to experience all aspects of life to me. The known and the alien. Until I can finally rest, happy to have felt love. They do not know how much they both captivate me. The way he looks at me as if to make sure I'm OK. The way They call me cute names when helping me through tough situations. Every time I see them, my heart skips a beat and it is as if time itself refuses to let me miss their radiance. They are to me as gods. Beings so lovable in my eyes that they are worthy of my worship. But it's to me I wish they'd beg. I want them to know that I dream of them from time to time, and it leaves me feeling content. They have caused me to start smiling more.

I want to see their natural beauty. I want to caress and kiss every part of their beings. I want to know how they taste. I want them to devour me. I want them to destroy me. I am so adverse to praise that their genuine adoration of me makes me want to crawl into a ball and blush. I'm afraid to wear my skirts around them because I know I couldn't hide myself from them. Even now, they still send me such kind words that I want to cry with joy. He sent me a really sweet message today telling me that he's here for me if I need him and that he loves me. I know it's not the love I feel, but still, it gets my heart pumping. I want to lay next to them in the dark hours of the night while I listen to them breath. God, I've never been so in love. I wish I could just tell them without the negative consequences.

I've never been one to be outwardly romantic. I'm somewhere on the aro/ace spectrum and don't feel this way often. When I do feel romantic and sexual attraction though, it hits like a fucking truck. All I can think about is how much I love them. All that I speak are words I wish them to hear. Even now, my characters and paragraphs are solely devoted to my feelings for them. It's bizarre. It's new. I typically feel nothing in regards to how people look. I told my first partner they were beautiful even before seeing their face. Yet I am towing the line between looking respectfully and objectifying them to filth. Their beauty pierces the dark clouds of my mind, leaving a kind smile in the place of my relentless pessimism. They even understand me on a mental level. Relating to and pointing out autistic traits in myself that they mirror in turn. I feel comfortable. I feel safe around them.

God, I love them so much. I want to hold them close to me. I want to kiss them and tell them how much I love them. I want them to shove their tongues down my throat. I have never been so aggressively attracted to someone before. But I want them to own me, to worship me, to make me feel safe, to make me feel like I belong. I want them to welcome me with open arms into a life of comforting love.

I can't stop thinking about them. The way they talk, the way they act, the way they smell. It's all so ingrained in my head. I had a fight with a family member and They went out of their way to comfort me. He asked to help me find a better job and redid my resume. Even after so much pain, He still checks in on me. I feel so loved. I feel so welcome

I'm going to be living with them. I don't know how long I can hide my feelings but I'm going to fucking try. They have a collar. The world doesn't know what I'd give to see them at the end of my leash. My lovely little plaything. Something that to me stands above the idea of man and enters the divine. They have another partner. A transwoman. I bet she's better than me. Even still, I want to meet her. I want to gaze at someone they love like I gaze at them. I know this is pointless and unhealthy. I know it's repulsive and cruel to my own mind. But this is all I have. The only words I can write are for them. Why does it have to be this way? Why am I so hopelessly unlovable? I could move on if I had to. I've done it time and time again. I really only know rejection. It would be so much easier if I weren't demi. If I could just go out and try and meet cute people. If I could ĺearn to love myself. But instead, I lay here, all alone, chasing an endless fantasy

Posting this here because I know neither of them follow me and thus won't see this. But there's a trans man and his non-binary wife and I am madly in love with both of them. I want to wake up early and whisper I love you to both of them before starting my day. I want to come home and lay me head in their lap and watch TV. I want to cuddle next to them when the night is cold. I want to celebrate their holidays even if they aren't mine. I want to hear them talk about all the things they love and hate. I want to feel their soft lips on mine. I want them in every way I could ever want a partner. They'll never know that I feel this way. But I truly love them both so fucking much

I want to lay with them in a freshly mowed field in the warm summer sun. I want to lay close and snuggle up with them in the chilling nights of winter. Just the chance to see them is like a spotlight in the dark. As if all other horrors and pain melt away. I want to feel their hands in mine. I want to feel their breath on my neck. I want to go to the places they love and try the foods that bring them comfort. I want them to indulge me in my endless stupidity and to see the wonder in their eyes at what I find mundane. I want to walk through forests with them and see the leaves wither and die. I want to rest by the creek and see the blossoms start to bloom. I want to know what brings them joy. I want to know what brings them pleasure. I want to know what they fear. To search out their specters and hunt their cryptids. I want to play their games and hear their stories. And to share mine with them as well. I know this love is unrequited. But I feel it consuming me like a poorly maintained house burning to ash. I know that I will still be alone. And I know that one day, like everyone else I love, they'll leave me too. But here in this worthless post that none shall see, I perform the sacred art passed down from those like me. Gay pinning

[fluffypotatey]

Merthur Doctors AU ✨

ooooooh ok so i don’t have a lot of doctor knowledge sso bear with me.

both merlin and arthur work in the same hospital but different wards. they meet completely on accident. Merlin was in a rush because he woke up late and had an appointment in 30 minutes and had just got his coffee and may not be so kindly pushing past people to get to his office. 

he cuts a corner and runs straight into arthur, and all of his hot, just brewed coffee spills all over arthur. they just stand there for a couple of seconds in shock. merlin is about to apologize when arthur berates him because ‘do you know how much my shirt cost?’ 

yes arthur is still a spoiled brat who is also a doctor, and his father’s company is the most important patron for this hospital. everyone tries to stay on arthur’s good side because who knows what would happen if they lost the support of uther pendragon because someone pissed of his son? 

merlin is not in the mood to listen to some posh prat talk him down because he soaked his whoever expensive shirt with caffeine. course, since merlin was at his limit of keeping his composure, his mouth decided to turn off his filter and give this ass a piece of his mind.

suddenly, it’s arthur who is off his kilter and being berated rather than the opposite. merlin leaves in a huff and is just on time for his appointment with little susie. arthur stands there confused and doesn’t know how to unpack what just happened. 

fast forward a couple days and they meet again. merlin isn’t in a rush this time and there was no coffee spilling, but arthur being arthur, the moment he sees merlin he stops and points yelling, “YOU! YOU SPILLED COFFEE ON ME!”

merlin briefly considers ignoring him and continuing on his way because this is drawing up a lot of attention, and merlin is not in the mood for that. however, arthur somehow gets him to turn towards him and rise to whatever challenge the rest of the room missed. 

this happens for weeks. arthur or merlin, whenever they see the other, it’s like they have to throw barbs at each other. gwen is a little confused since, to her, the best way to solve this problem is to ignore arthur and not let him get a rise out of you. yet, merlin can’t help it. something about arthur gets under his skin.

this all changes when corporate sends some inspector guy (let’s call him.....valiant from the corporation named....pendragon enterprises) to see the integrity of the hospital and if they needed to be funded more, or if there are sketchy stuff going on and the enterprise needed to pull out. valiant may or may not have been screwing up the results because he felt that with a hospital this big, they didn’t need that much staff. gwen almost lost her job because of this and you bet merlin was so very close to beating valiant up if it weren’t for arthur. 

they team up to bring valiant down and prove that he is skewing the results to uther because, like always, uther is a stubborn bitch. during this time they learn more about each other (but not everything) and maybe they end this story not so hostile to each other.

after the valiant incident, whenever they see each other, their barbs aren’t as sharp and seem more playful. other mishaps happen along the way. the slow burn burns slowly because you can’t have merthur without the yearning, you know?

sooo yeah. that is one long au idea for merthur for you. hope you like it. sorry this took awhile

[mmvalentine]

Okay, so would you be able to write that best friend kiss challenge with Feysand? Like Feyre films herself kissing Rhys (her best friend) just as a joke but then Rhys is super into it and then she’s super into it and it gets spicy😏😏

(obviously she turns the camera off before things get interesting)

Oh you kids and your tiktoks, back in my day tiktoks were called snapchats, and we more or less used them to send nudes. But seriously this trend makes me feel SO ANXIOUS because sometimes they get rejected and I feel it way too hard?! ANYWAY this is fine because this one works out, right????

I Didn't Know

Feyre was addicted.

She had lost count of how many versions of this tiktok she had seen, but she did know that about twenty minutes ago she had to pee and thought 'just one more,' yet here she was, still sprawled across the bed watching best friends kiss for the first time and riding the rollercoaster of second-hand nervous anticipation and then either gut twisting joy or empathetic mortification. Her bladder was not impressed.

It was Mor who had sent her the first one, and then it was all too easy to go down the scrolling rabbit hole. Of course, at the time Mor had added 'You should totally do this to Rhys, I would pay to see his reaction.'

At first, Feyre had thought there was no way that was going to happen. Rhys had been her best friend for the past 7 years, if they were going to date, surely it would have happened by now. Also, she was fairly certain that most of these were set up, because so many seemed to have a shockingly calm reaction to being kissed by someone they had supposedly been platonic with for years. That's just not how things felt when you were best friends.

Of course, she was impressed with how much engagement these videos got, set up or no. And so the next day, when Rhys was spent half the day teasing her about how many more followers he had than her, all she could think about was one very effective way of shutting him up. With Rhys's jawline, she just knew it would do well on social media. And of course it would be a joke. Just a joke.

It happened in the evening. Rhys was going to drop by her place after his last class, since he had finals coming up and his frat house was hardly the ideal study environment. Mor was at her girlfriend's place for the night, so Feyre had the apartment to herself. She set up her phone on the dining room table, propped up against a pile of text books and secretly recording. She made a whole plan of it- first she'd have to stall him by the door to keep him in the shot, and to have enough recording so that she could match the kiss up to the right spot in the music. And she'd have to make sure he was facing the right way so that his reaction would be clear in the shot.

At 6.30pm when Rhys was due to arrive, Feyre texted Mor. I'm doing it, she said. I'm gonna do the best friend kiss challenge on Rhys and he's gonna FREAK.

Mor replied immediately. No fucking way!!! Yes girl get it!!

Feyre laughed. Can you imagine? she wrote back. This will shut him up for sure, he's gonna be standing there looking like a fish with his mouth opening and closing. Like when Az played that prank and gift wrapped every item in his room before Christmas.

Somehow, I think this is going to top that... Mor wrote back.

I just hope he doesn't punch me out of reflex or something, Feyre joked. At that moment, footsteps neared the door from the hallway outside. Gotta go, this is gonna be hilarious, Feyre sent off. She quickly turned the camera on and put it back in its place against the book stack as the knock came.

"Girl I have so many snacks," Rhys said when she opened the door. "I am ready to study." Feyre laughed at his armfuls of assorted packages.

"I didn't realise you were planning a 3 day study lock-in," she said, and stepped out of the way. Rhys headed toward the table, and Feyre panicked. "No!" she yelped. Rhys looked at her, surprised.

"No what?" he asked.

"Uh, give those to me, and you can stay and take of your coat." She hurriedly scooped the bags of chips and chocolate out of his arms and dumped them on the table, while Rhys eyed her suspiciously.

"Okay, you weirdo," he said. He shrugged out of his coat and threw it over the arm of the couch, more than comfortable enough in Feyre's home to know where to put his things. He stepped forward, but again Feyre blocked him. He raised an eyebrow. "What are you doing?" he asked.

"Um, maybe we should study here on the couch," she said. Rhys raised his eyebrows.

"Instead of on the nice big dining table that I can write on, and where you've just moved all my snacks?"

"Yes. I mean no. I mean..."

"Feyre," Rhys said with mock concern. "You are seriously losing it."

"I... ah," Feyre scrambled. Oh what the hell, she only needed to fill a few bars and surely there was enough now. Before she could chicken out, Feyre stood on her tiptoes, grabbed his face in both her hands, and mashed her lips against his.

A heartbeat later, Feyre let go. She realised she had been holding her breath, and exhaled with a whoosh, giggling as she did so. She could feel herself going red, and covered her face for just a second before biting her lip and looking back for Rhys's reaction.

But there was no reaction.

Not at first. For a good three seconds he just stood frozen, and then he found her eyes. Stared at her in complete wonderment, and then with more gentleness than she had ever seen on him, he reached out his hands and lifted her chin back toward him.

Feyre barely had time to register what was happening, when Rhys's lips found hers once more.

This time, instead of the rushed surprise attack Feyre had used on him, Rhys kissed her soft and slow. Feyre's eyes widened, then slid closed, as Rhys's arms wrapped around her waist. His lips were cold from the frost outside, but when her body pressed against his it was warm in his arms, and when he tilted his head and deepened the kiss, she felt the heat of his mouth all the way in her belly.

Feyre wasn't coherent enough to be shocked. She was overwhelmed by the way her body was reacting to Rhys's kiss, and before she knew she had lifted her hands, she had his dark curls between her fingers. He tasted so good she couldn't get enough, and when she lifted up onto her toes to get closer, his fingers dug into her sides. And then the first touch of her tongue had her knees buckling.

"Feyre," Rhys moaned between kisses. "Feyre what are we doing?" He licked at her lips. "I didn't know," he whispered. "I didn't know you wanted this."

"I... I didn't know either," Feyre gasped, and then he brought his mouth back to hers before she could say anything else.

Suddenly, seven years felt so long. How had they not been doing this the whole time? How had they stood being this hungry for all these years, and how could they make up for it now? Feyre breathed in the smell of him, and loved the groan that slipped from his throat when her teeth hit his bottom lip.

"Bedroom," he struggled out, and Feyre only nodded as she untangled herself to move down the hall. Rhys caught her two steps later, pulling her back in to kiss her again.

"I thought you wanted to go to my room," Feyre said breathlessly.

"I did," Rhys mumbled against her lips. "But I first I just gotta-" He finished the sentence by licking her tongue and sucking on her bottom lip. Feyre wanted to laugh, but a second later she couldn't remember why. Besides, her mouth was busy.

"Bedroom," Rhys said again, and this time he took the lead and towed her by the waist.

Feyre only just remembered to grab her phone and hit the lock button, closing the camera off as they went. If she had had the presence of mind, she'd already be embarrassed by how much was recorded, but what did it matter? What did anything matter when her lips were swollen from being bitten and every step took them closer to bed, and Rhys, and Rhys in her bed.

They stumbled down the corridor, then one moment Rhys was roughly pushing the door shut and the next her back was hitting the mattress. Their movements were messy, frenzied. Feyre yanked off Rhys shirt, and he lifted her higher up the bed, and then suddenly there they were.

Feyre's head on the pillow and her legs wrapped around Rhys's hips. Rhys staring down at her with pupils blown wide and kiss-reddened lips. A heavy hardness pressing between them and a still, silent realisation of where they had landed.

They stayed frozen like that for a while, and then Rhys lowered his head slowly and kissed her again, soft and with his eyes open. Is this okay? the kiss said. He lifted his head, but Feyre put her hands gently on either side of his face and pulled him back to her.

More than okay, she tried to tell him back.

Rhys's body turned liquid then, rolling into hers so smoothly that it pressed the air from her lungs so she sighed into his mouth. Feyre knew he had tattoos, but it wasn't often they were on display like this and she couldn't help but think he was beautiful. Rhys changed the angle of the kiss, and moved again. This time his hips grazed hers and that unbearable pressure between Feyre's legs had her arching her back up to him, chasing the wave of his warmth. Rhys growled in his throat, and the vibration of it sent a shiver that echoed to her fingertips.

"Where have you been all my life?" Rhys groaned, as his hand slid under the hem of her shirt. The contact on her bare skin raised goosebumps and then she was feeling him everywhere. Suddenly her t-shirt was too rough, and her jeans intolerable.

"I've been here," Feyre gasped, hands reaching for Rhys's back and chest and shoulders. Needing to feel his skin, too. "I've been right here."

She lifted her arms to help Rhys get her shirt off, pulling him back down to her as soon as she could. He kissed her again and this time the line of contact down the bare fronts of their bodies burned between them.

"How did I not know?" Rhys asked, seeming to be talking to himself more than her. He slid a hand behind her back to get at her bra clasp, and then she was shivery and naked before him. She only had a second to be self-conscious about this before he squeezed one of her breasts in his hand, and put his mouth over the other. And then all she wanted was him touching her.

Rhys moved his tongue slowly over her nipple. Flicked back and forth over it, and the feeling somehow seemed to repeat itself in the apex of her thighs. Feyre's fingers tightened in the thick mop of his hair, and Rhys shifted across to the other nipple. She was just thinking she could die from pleasure like this, when he kissed in between her breasts. Down her sternum, slowing as he reached her belly. Almost reverent when he nipped at her navel, and traveled lower still.

Rhys undid the button of her jeans without lifting his lips from her skin. His hands tugged at her waistband, and when Feyre raised her hips for him to get them off, his mouth slipped downward again, and his kiss landed over her clit through her underwear.

Feyre jolted up toward him, and Rhys slid her jeans the rest of the way off her feet. He licked against the cotton of her panties, until she was panting beneath him and squirming to get closer. Finally, he pulled off the last of her clothing, and when his tongue hit her bare pussy she could have sworn she blacked out for a second.

"Mmm," Rhys hummed against her. "You taste like fucking heaven." Feyre's hands scrabbled in the sheets and then gripped Rhys's head as he moved, first in broad, rough strokes with the flat of his tongue, then flicking faster over her clit with the tip like he had on her nipple. He reached out a hand to squeeze at her breast, and the other one smoothed over her chest to hold her down.

"Can you come like this honey?" Rhys asked her, before taking her clit into his mouth in slow, suckling kisses. "I would love it if you came on my tongue." He slid it deep inside her. "Please Feyre." Returned to flicking over her clit. "Do it, please, for me."

And to Feyre's absolute surprise, she did. Came with her fists in in Rhys's hair and her legs wrapped around his head. She never came on the first time with someone. Then again, Rhys wasn't just anyone. Rhys kept his tongue moving as her hips came up off the bed, not letting her down until her climax had faded into ragged breaths.

Rhys stood then, and unzipped his own jeans. As soon as he was leaning over her again, Feyre reached down to palm his cock through his black boxer-briefs. Rhys moaned softly, and buried his face in her back as he pushed himself into her hand.

"Yeah baby, touch me," Rhys whispered, and guided her hand under his waistband.

If Feyre was honest, she would have to admit that it had crossed her mind before what Rhys might look like naked. Her eyes had snagged below his hips when he was wearing sweatpants, or was fresh out of the ocean. They had been friends a long time. And how could you not notice when Rhys looked like this?

But having her hands on him was something entirely different. Feyre curled her hand around him, and when she stroked up and down the length of him she felt first a little intimidated by his size, and then second deliciously in control when a light groan was coaxed from his lips.

"Like this?" she asked. Rhys moaned louder.

"Yeah, just like that," he said, and the muscles in his chest flexed above her. Rhys's eyes closed, and he bit down on his lip as she twisted her hand around him. It was so sexy, Feyre was moving her free hand down her own body to touch herself at the same time.

It only took a minute for Rhys to notice, and then a wicked grin was tugging up the corner of his mouth.

"You need some too, huh?" he asked, and then he took both her hands and laced his fingers through hers. Laid them either side of her face as he settled himself back down between her legs, and then lifted her hands around his neck as he kissed her.

Rhys looked her seriously then.

"Is this okay?" he asked quietly.

"Yes," Feyre breathed. Rhys rolled his hips against her, and watched her lips part and her head tilt when he did it.

"You want more?" he asked.

"Yes," Feyre said again, and felt his cock twitch between her thighs.

"You want me inside of you?" he asked roughly.

"God yes," Feyre said, and then Rhys was lifting his hips and pushing inside her.

Their eyes locked, and they exhaled together as Rhys hit his hilt. Then Rhys's gaze flicked to her mouth, and he moved, out and back in, and the stretch of him was the sweetest ache.

"Fuck, Rhys," Feyre whimpered, grabbing his shoulders. He looked at her quickly.

"Okay, honey?" he asked. She laughed breathlessly and then nodded, and Rhys thrust again and she gasped as her head fell back against the pillow. "Am I hurting you?" he said. Feyre shook her head, and arched her back to get him deeper.

"Shit," Rhys barked. His hips snapped forward and his palm hit the mattress. He drew a breath through his nose, seeming to get himself under control, and then began a smooth rocking that had Feyre's eyes rolling back in her head.

"I wish I had known," Rhys said, and the words were almost despairing. "I wish I had you like this every day." Feyre's hands fluttered at his chest. "I'm so sorry."

"Don't apologise," Feyre frowned. She lifted her hips to him. "I want you."

"You've fucking got me," Rhys said, and then pulled out only to flip her over and come back from behind. Feyre moaned at the way he got deeper this way, and dropped to her forearms.

"You feel so good," she breathed.

"Oh yeah?" Rhys asked. He reached around and put two fingers over her clit. "What about now?"

Feyre got louder as the pleasure got sharper, and then her vision was clouding at the edges.

"You gonna come again for me baby?" Rhys said. Feyre couldn't answer. "You want it a little harder?"

"Yes," she gasped.

"Will you come if I fuck you hard?"

"Yes, oh god yes. Please Rhys, please."

"I'd never say no to you," Rhys said, and his free hand gripped her hip tight as he pounded into her while those fingers, now dripping wet, moved over and over her clit. "You're gonna make me come," he panted. "You look so good like this." His hips sped up. "But you gotta come first, honey. Come for me."

Feyre's spine stretched and her back arched as release found her. Rhys was so deep in her she could feel it in the bottom of her stomach, and then he was falling right behind her, and the sounds he made when he came were so damn hot she broke out in goosebumps.

Finally, Rhys dropped to the bed beside her, and pulled her down onto his chest. Feyre breathed deeply and was gratified to hear Rhys's heart going as fast as hers. She smiled into his skin, and breathed in the warm smell of him.

"Is this weird?" Rhys asked after a few minutes. His thumb stroked at her elbow.

"No," she said truthfully. She looked up at him. "Is it weird for you?"

"Honestly?" Rhys tucked an arm behind his head. "It now seems weirder that we weren't doing this the whole time." He looked at her. "What made you finally make a move?"

And that's when Feyre remembered the tik tok.

Her eyes went wide, and she felt herself going red. Rhys was bewildered. "What?" he asked. Feyre just shook her head. "You really can't tell me after we just did that?"

"Uh. I was um. Doing a tik tok?"

"You were what?"

"You know. The best friend challenge. I wanted to video your reaction if I kissed you."

Rhys pulled back suddenly. "Wait so you didn't actually want to kiss me? You just wanted a reaction video?"

"No! Well- yes, but I didn't know!" Feyre wailed.

"Know what?"

"That I wanted you so much."

Rhys blinked at her. After a tense second, his mouth twitched.

"So," he said, "in actual fact, you filmed your own reaction."

"What do you mean?"

"You surprised yourself. That's really embarrassing." He settled back down. Feyre picked up a pillow and whacked him with it.

"Shut up," she mumbled, and Rhys laughed a beautiful laugh and kissed her so sweet it made her dizzy.

****

Sweet and spicy, order up.

PS I just want to say that in modern AUs I usually make sure to like make some kind of condom reference because I'm trying to be realistic/ a good role model but this time I just COULDN'T BE BOTHERED sorry have safe sex kids.

MASTERLIST

TAGLIST: @ghostlyrose2 @highladysith @stardelia @feysand-loml @tillyrubes10 @ratabrasileira @live-the-fangirl-life @maybekindasortaace @annejulianneh111 @thebonecarver @rowaelinismyotp @loosingdreams @whythefuckdoiexist @inejsarrow @swankii-art-teacher @sjmships @courtofjurdan @teddytdr @positivewitch @thalia-2-rose @darling-archeron @rapunzel1523 @fairchildjace @philosophorumaurum02 @story-scribbler @allthecolorsneverseen @asteria-of-mars @fandomstalker27 @realbookloverproblems

[darkeninganon]

(Quackity, Tommy, Tubbo, and Ranboo finally interact in the Ender Family AU! Dream’s design is based on @winifreyd and their White Enderman Dream design! Warning for referenced torture, extreme injuries, forced feeding, mouth trauma, tortured, choking, and cursing. If you spot something else, message me and I will add it and apologize profusely.)

Ranboo fidgeted, dreading this plan. Tommy and Tubbo- okay, no, just Tubbo- had made up this plan the same day Quackity had left the prison with a beautiful... fur coat. A white fur coat. Everyone knew Dream was covered in white fur, and took such great pride in it, he was likely to kill you just for talking about touching it. Well… Technically he had that right because to touch his fur you had to touch him, and he did not like to be touched.

A hand rubbed against his own, drawing Ranboo from his mind. He looked to where the hand came from, finding Tubbo running his finger through Ranboo’s fur. Right, Tubbo liked to feel Ranboo’s fur when he got too nervous. The half enderman looked to Tommy, who was biting his nails. Ranboo pulled up his sleeve, holding his arm out in front of Tommy. The other boy looked at him, incredulous and confused. “Apparently petting me helps people calm down.” The half enderman laughed, dry and nervous.

Tommy hummed, looking back towards the entrance to the entrance of the prison. They were in the portal area, right outside the prison. They all had seen what Dream had become, now they needed to confront one of the people who may have contributed or even allowed it to happen. The trio sat there, waiting as the day passed by, slowly but surely, Tommy and Tubbo getting more and more antsy as Quackity’s arrival was delayed longer and longer.

Finally, the guest of honor had arrived. Quackity turned the corner, freezing as the three teens perked up and locked eyes with him.

“Oh… What… what’re you guys doing here?” Quackity questioned, stepping into the open room. He couldn’t look suspicious to these three. Not now, not when he was so close.

“We were waiting for you.” Tommy huffed, crossing his arms as he struggled to stand up, legs having cramped and fallen asleep hours ago. “We have some questions for you Big Q.”

“Oh, well, what do you want to know?”

“Why the hell are you visiting the prison everyday?”

Quackity stared at Tommy, as if he had never expected anyone to ask that question, ever. “Uh, I’m training to be the next warden. Why else would I be going to the prison?” He laughed, a nervous flicker of his eyes.

“Great, where do you live?” Ranboo stepped in now, rolling Tubbo’s sleeve between his fingers as his platonic husband continued to pet his fur. “We kind of haven’t seen you in like… Forever.”

Quackity nodded. “Yeah, I uh, made a country. Las Nevada. It’s pretty cool.” He fidgeted. He needed to pay Dream his daily visit… Or ask Sam to fill in for him. “Do you guys want to see it?” The three teens nodded, believing the story so far. “Great! Follow me. It’s pretty far.” Quackity smiled, walking off with the three boys in tow. Sam looked out from the cameras, breathing a sigh as the group left. He could only hope Quackity wouldn't want to show off his trophies.

Sam jumped as his communicator went off. A message from Quackity: I'm trusting you to convince Dream today. Sorry to put this on you so suddenly. Sam sighed, his grip growing tighter. He... He had to. For Tommy. For Tubbo. For the whole SMP. Sam sent back a quick response: Roger.

Sam sighed, standing up and heading for the cell. He had to at least try. Yet another sigh. He was sighing too much these days. Sam walked to the cell, drinking a fire resistance potion and swimming through. His eyes landed on Dream, curled up and bandaged, fur grimy and dirty. He hadn't moved in days, potatoes rotting in the pool of water that was used as a reset point for the prisoners. Not that Dream would ever use it, what with his one cannon life left. Sam stormed over to Dream, tangling his hands in the creatures hair to retch his head up. Dream opened his eye, cloudy and unfocused.

A mumble fell from the creatures lips. One word, probably Sam's name. It didn't matter. "I have to do this Dream. Quackity needs that information." Sam pulled Dream up by his hair, slamming his head into the wall. Dream stayed there, limp, staring at Sam. The warden shook his head, letting Dream drop to the ground without a care. He walked to the puddle, pulling out one of the rotting potatoes. It was like sludge with a rock-hard core.

Sam swallowed the lump in his throat. It was gross but Sam wasn't about tear Dream limb-from-limb. That was not his style. Sam stood, walking over to where Dream lay, still limp and pliant. Sam grabbed his chin, digging the points of his gauntlets into Dream's jaw. "You need to eat, or else you'll never heal." With that, Sam shoved the rotten food into Dream's mouth, holding his hand over Dream's mouth, staring down as the prisoner's eyes widened and he started coughing, thrashing and lightly hitting Sam in and effort to get free. "Swallow, Dream. I'm done with you wasting the food you are given."

Dream suddenly grabbed Sam's mask, tearing it off the warden's face in such a way that Sam yelled and fell back, kicking Dream in the face. "What the fuck Dream?! You know that's- ARGH!" Sam screamed in rage. Dream knew not to fight back against Sam, even more than he knew not to fight back against Quackity. Sam had netherite with thorns whereas Quackity did not. Sam grabbed another potato, grabbing Dream's ankle and dragging the gagging prisoner closer. Sam wrapped a hand around Dream's neck, using his greater size to choke and pry Dream's jaw open.

Sam froze.

Dream's sharper canine teeth were gone, while his slightly sharp front teeth were broken beyond repair; jagged and cracked. Dream was gargling some nonsense, pawing at Sam's arm. Sam let go, dropping the rotten food as he did so. He suddenly began to tear at the bandages, staring in horror as the realization slowly hit him: Quackity took Dream's teeth, and Dream... Dream wasn't acting out by not eating.

Sam ran from the cell, running down the corridors and out of the prison. Sam slumped to the ground, covering his mouth. He had left his mask in the cell. He took out his communicator, hands shaking as he typed a message to Quackity: What the fuck is wrong with you?

Quackity cast a glance at his communicator, frowning at the message. He ignored it, putting it back into his packet. "It's right up here." He stated, climbing over the last hill, the lights of the city bathing him in a multicolored glow. "Boys, Welcome... To Las Nevadas!"

The three teens stood on the crest of the hill, mouth agape at the city. It wasn't a city in the normal sense, but there were obviously multiple buildings, each one flashy and bright in its own right, they just blended together in a way that was indescribable.

"Holy shit Big Q!"

"Woah! Nice!"

Ranboo remained silent, staring in awe. He was oblivious to the way Quackity was glaring at him, the way Quackity was sizing him up and seemingly inspecting his eyes and teeth from a distance.

"Come on guys, why don't we get a closer look?"

Quackity's remark finally snapped Ranboo from his trance, finding the other three already a small distance ahead, the half-enderman jogging to catch up to them. Quackity was ranting about the city, talking about how it was mostly just hotels and casinos so far. One or two places for food and drinks, but no actual restaurants. Ranboo spun around as they walked, wanting to take in every detail. Things like this were... They brought something out in him, something that he hadn't felt in... forever? Forever.

The group stopped in front of a massive building, right in the center of the city. "And this is my place! Come on in, make yourselves at home~!" Quackity stated, loudly, opening the door with a flourish. The trio of teens stare in awe; gold, silver, white, and red decorated the whole immediate room, with a huge glowing bar at one end and plenty of tables for poker, slot machines, and other games scattered throughout the room.

The teens separated throughout the room, staring at the whole area. Tommy ran to the bar, making high-pitched noises of awe at all the fancy bottles lining the wall. Tubbo ran to the slot machines, running up and down the rows and rows of them bouncing around and probably imagining how much gold, diamonds, and maybe even netherite he could get. Ranboo ignored all the other tables, walking to a game he had never seen before. It had a wheel at one end, and red-and-black number on a grid going from 1 to 36. Looking back at the wheel, Ranboo found that one spot on the wheel was green, a red ball resting in the spot.

Ranboo picked up the ball. It was... such a weird weight. His back fur stood on end as he continued to look at and play with the ball. What even was it made out of? It looked like it was glazed or covered in glass. And why was his fur raising so much? Why did it make him... uncomfortable? No, not uncomfortable... scared, sick, angry.

Ranboo rolled it around a bit more, putting it back as Quackity called the trio over to a curtain. "This is my VIP room. You guys will be the first to see it!" He seemed so excited, pulling on a beautifully white tassel to draw the curtain open.

The VIP room was much darker, deep blues and blacks covering the small room from floor to ceiling, with dulled redstone lamps over the few sitting areas scatter throughout. Quackity ran off, mentioning that he needed something to make the room complete. Ranboo ignored the room, inspecting the pull used to open the curtain. It looked... Ranboo looked to one of his tails, the white one... The pull looked so much like it. Ranboo began to play with the pull. It was much softer than his tail could ever be, either of them; and it lacked the sleek fur at the end, instead ending in soft, cloud-like fur... or something. Ranboo had no idea what it was made out of, but much like the little ball from the game table, it caused the fur on his neck to stand on end.

"Alright guys! Check this out!" Quackity cheered, finally having come back. He strode into the room, draped in a lovely fur coat, standing out in the dull room as he flopped down on the sofa. Tommy and Tubbo stared in awe. Tubbo was immediately fascinated by how soft it was, while Tommy was inspecting the sleeves and hem.

"Damn Big Q, why the fuck didn't we have you make the uniforms? You would have made them even better than me!"

Quackity gave Tommy a look. "What?"

Tommy held up the bottom hem of the coat. "The seams! God, leather and fur and hide are so fucking hard to work with, but you... Jesus how fucking long did it take you to sew this? The seams are invisible. You have to teach me." Tommy continued to inspect the coat where the seams should be, clearly fascinated.

Ranboo came over as well, cautiously reaching out to feel the fur coat. His fur was raising again, telling him to do something... to take the fur coat and then beat Quackity senseless. Then his finger touched the fur.

All fight left Ranboo.

The ball came to mind.

The curtain pull came to mind.

And now the fur coat.

Ranboo ran from the building, clawing his way over the hills. He could hear Tommy and Tubbo yelling for him, asking him what was wrong. He didn't answer... Tubbo should know, Tubbo should be able to tell.

The fur of an Enderman is very distinct, after all.

[flowerfan2]

Something Blue - Bound To Be Together Alternate Ending

McDanno, E, A03.  53k in total; 7k this chapter - Something Blue

Author’s note:  Towards the end of season 9 I spent a lot of time thinking about how I might fix or otherwise explain whatever craziness canon was going to give us in the last episode. This story came about as an explanation for a possible Steve and Cath wedding.

It’s sort of an AU alternate ending to the coda series in Bound To Be Together, but can also be read as a stand-alone story. Warning for angst and handwringing, but all in the service of a happy ending.

Thanks to all of you who read and enjoyed this fic, and ranted with me about Season 9.  Writing this and getting to know so many other H50 fans has been a wonderful experience.

Summary: Steve and Catherine get married on a typically beautiful day, filled with all the joy such an occasion should bring. Danny doesn’t feel at all joyful about it, however.  He feels miserable.  Danny agreed to this, but it doesn’t make it any easier.

Something Blue

The Kahala resort is undeniably beautiful.  Danny enjoyed it a lot more, however, back when he was watching Grace swim with the dolphins.  Standing up as Steve’s best man as Steve marries Catherine really isn’t any fun at all.

After the ceremony, Danny wanders off to the side, champagne glass in hand.  The happy couple has chosen to bypass many of the classic wedding traditions, so fortunately Danny doesn’t have to give a formal toast, or sit through a first dance, or really do anything at all except stand around and keep a smile pasted on his face.

Danny declines a glass of champagne from a festively dressed server.  He feels vaguely ill, overheated in his rented tux.  Adding alcohol to the mix doesn’t seem like a good idea.  Even the smell of the passed hors d'oeuvres is making him queasy.  

He chats mindlessly with a guest who comes by and gushes about how beautiful the bride is, and how she had no idea Steve was even engaged.  Danny doesn’t know her name – someone who works with Noelani, he thinks – but he can’t get up the energy to care.  Eventually the guest moves away, and Danny risks a quick glance at his watch.

“Thinking of leaving already, boss?” Tani asks softly, coming to stand next to him.  She looks lovely in her gown, a dark green which contrasts beautifully with her hair. “You okay?”

Danny struggles to focus on her words, and find some kind of appropriately convincing response, but he doesn’t come up with much. “Sure, I’m fine.”

Tani tilts her head at him.  No point in feigning cheer with her, her bullshit meter is way too fine-tuned for that.

“I did not see this coming.”  Tani slides in front of him, narrowing her eyes.  “I’m guessing you didn’t either?”

 Danny looks away.  “Steve was gonna ask her to marry him, a few years ago.  She told him later she would have said yes.”  He shrugs.  “Guess it was just a matter of time.”

 “Yeah, but-”

 “Just don’t, okay?”  Danny can’t argue about this right now.  Not with the DJ playing dance tunes and Catherine wearing a freakin’ full-on lace wedding dress and Steve’s ring on her finger.

 “Sorry,” Tani says.  “Really.”  She puts a hand on his shoulder, squeezing briefly, her eyes searching his.  “Wanna dance?”

 Danny sees Grace coming towards them, looking ridiculously grown up and beautiful, but with the same look of concern on her face as Tani has on hers.  Rude or not, he’s got to get out of here.  He can’t face his little girl right now.

 “Tani, do me a favor – dance with Grace instead.”

 Tani nods, and turns to intercept his daughter. Danny strides away, across the courtyard and through the hotel.  He almost manages to get away clean, but he’s outside waiting for an Uber when he hears his name being called.

 “Daniel?  Can we talk for a minute?”

 It’s Rachel, of course.  Danny wonders how many people saw her running after him as he made his escape.  How many believed he and Rachel were an item again, when they arrived together, Grace and Charlie in tow.  

 “I’m not feeling well, Rach.  I’ll call you tomorrow.”

 She gives him a pained look.  “I know this is hard for you, but it is what we all agreed on.” Her accent gets stronger when she’s upset, and from the sound of it, she hasn’t enjoyed the afternoon’s charade much either.  “Are you having second thoughts?”

 Danny huffs out a bitter laugh.  “Like you said, I agreed to this.  Guess the joke’s on me.”

 *****

 Danny kicks his feet up on top of his carry-on and leans back in the uncomfortable plastic seat.  It’s late, and LAX is quiet.  He’s got almost three more hours before he needs to get in line to board his connecting flight to Boston.  

 He parted ways with Rachel earlier, after he walked her to her gate.  She’s got a lot more flight time ahead of her, on her way to London for few weeks of vacation.  The kids are joining her but traveling separately, all to enhance the optics of Rachel and Danny going off together for a long-awaited tryst.

 Danny has just managed to doze off when his carry-on is yanked out from under his feet.  He jumps up, instantly awake and ready to dash after the culprit, and sees Steve, carry-on bag in hand.

 “You’re just asking for that to get stolen,” Steve says.  His face seems to be undecided as to whether it wants to smile or apologize.  There’s been a lot of that lately.

 Danny has half a mind to slug his partner, but instead he finds himself moving in close.  Steve’s arms come around him, folding him in tight, and Danny practically goes weak in the knees.  God, he’s a sucker.  But it feels like it’s been ages since he’s been here, since he and Steve last touched with any motive other than keeping up platonic appearances.

 It’s been almost a week since Steve got married.

 They finally board their flight.  They’re not seated together, of course, that would have been too easy.  Steve has managed to snag himself an aisle seat, and Danny’s got a window, several rows behind him and on the other side of the plane.  Once Danny sits down, he can’t see Steve anymore, although he hears his voice as he politely helps another passenger hoist their bag up into the overhead compartment.

 The kid next to Danny is restless, moving back and forth, constantly leaning down to rummage through the backpack he’s shoved under the seat in front of him.  He seems to be traveling alone, busy on his phone, not making conversation with the woman seated on the aisle on his other side.  Danny makes him out to be in his twenties.  He’s got his music turned up loud enough that Danny can hear it through his earbuds, which is supremely annoying.

 Danny tries to sleep, wishing that the idiot next to him would settle down.  Finally the boy gets up to stretch his legs or storm the cockpit and Danny slides into a doze.

 He rouses to the feel of something warm being laid over him and squints open an eye.  Steve is in the seat next to him, and Steve’s sweatshirt is draped over Danny’s torso.

 “You looked cold.”  Steve’s face is blank, which generally means he’s concerned, and trying not to show it.  

 Danny lifts the arm between the seats out of the way and shifts, leaning his head on Steve’s shoulder.  It’s a lot more comfortable than the cold plastic of the airplane window.  He wonders briefly how Steve got the kid to switch seats with him, then realizes Steve traded his aisle seat for a squished middle one.  Next to Danny.

 “Thanks.”

 “You’re welcome,” Steve says softly.  

 They’re both beyond tired by the time they land in Boston.  They make their way to the baggage claim in silence, taking turns watching for their bags and using the restroom.  Danny avoids the mirror, not wanting to look too closely at the bags under his eyes. It makes him feel a little better that Steve looks beat too.

 They hadn’t bothered reserving a rental car, or making any hotel arrangements.  This wasn’t the carefully planned, eagerly anticipated trip that Danny once imagined they’d take together.  

 Steve is standing with their bags when Danny gets out of the bathroom, and they lug them on to a shuttle bus that goes to the airport Hilton.  Fortunately there are rooms available.  Danny wants to make a joke about how many beds they need, he thinks there’s a rom-com moment in there somewhere, but he’s just too tired.

 Their room is sterile and entirely uninteresting but it’s got a bed and that’s all Danny cares about.  Steve mutters something about showering but Danny just strips down to his boxers and passes out.

 Sometime not much later he wakes up and sees Steve sitting on the edge of the other bed, looking lost, and his heart breaks a little. “Hey, come here.”  Danny holds up the edge of the sheet, and Steve lurches over, scrambling under the covers as if he’s worried that if he doesn’t move quickly enough Danny will change his mind.

 Steve’s warm and damp from his shower, and his hair smells like shampoo.  Danny bundles him close and falls asleep with Steve’s arm heavy over his chest, his knees pressed up against Danny’s thigh.  It’s the most comfortable Danny’s been in weeks.

 Danny’s sense of time is all messed up, but they manage to sleep and doze and sleep again until it’s more or less morning. Danny showers and shaves and then goes downstairs to see what the rental car options are while Steve takes his turn in the bathroom.  

 Finally, after another shuttle bus and a relatively short wait at the rental car counter, they’re in their car and on their way. Steve insists on getting a Jeep. “There are mountains in New Hampshire, Danny,” he explains.  Danny thinks that Steve has never been to Colorado, where he might actually see some real mountains, but that’s a trip for another day.

 They drive sluggishly through Boston rush hour traffic, which doesn’t let up for over an hour.  Steve mutters in annoyance the whole time, and Danny wants to pat himself on the back for not saying “I told you so” about how the Honolulu traffic everyone complains about back home is nothing compared to East Coast traffic.

 Danny can see the U.S.S. Constitution and the Bunker Hill Monument as they crawl along Route 93.  He thinks that Steve would enjoy touring the city, checking out the Navy Yard and the museum, if they were here for that.  Steve’s never been here before.  It’s one of the reasons they picked New England for this – the landscape bears little resemblance to anywhere they’ve been together.  No beaches and lush tropical greens, no desert, no Montana plains.  Someplace new.

 By the time they cross over into New Hampshire, Danny’s stomach is growling.  They pull off the highway and find a diner, where they order giant plates of eggs and pancakes.  It’s not nearly as good as what they usually get at their favorite Honolulu breakfast place. And there’s no coconut syrup.

 They’re about to pay the bill when Steve gets a look on his face (it’s what Danny once called the constipated face, but he’s since decided that’s too kind).  “I know things have been rough lately-”

 “Not now.”  Danny cuts him off.

 Steve looks momentarily startled, then nods. “Okay.”  And who says Steve hasn’t learned anything over the years?  At least he’s figured out that prompting Danny into yelling – or crying, he’s not sure which is more likely – in the middle of a sticky diner in Londonderry isn’t the best idea.

 They turn the radio on when they get back in the car, and Danny fiddles with the dial, trying to find something entertaining enough but mostly devoid of meaning.  It’s hard to avoid love songs, though, or breakup songs.  Luckily there aren’t many “you married your ex-girlfriend and pretended we didn’t exist in front of all our friends and family” songs in the top 40 these days.

 When they get close to the town where they’ve reserved an airbnb they stop at a grocery store.  Danny doesn’t tease Steve when he fills the cart with enough steak and hamburger to feed the team for a week, just makes sure they buy charcoal, too. And ice cream.  The mood he’s in, he needs lots of ice cream.

 They drive down a long, narrow dirt road to get to the house.  The place isn’t much to look at from the back, but when they go inside there are windows stretching up two stories with a stunning view of a sparkling lake.  The first floor has a kitchen open to a living room with two comfortable couches and a dark leather armchair, and a dining table off to the side.  Upstairs is a landing that looks out over the living room, and past that are two bedrooms and a bathroom.  Nothing fancy to take away from the beauty of what’s outside, but all very welcoming in woodsy shades of green and brown.

 Danny opens the sliding doors to the deck, taking in the promised grill (which is, of course, gas, no need to have bought all that charcoal).  He imagines coming out here early in the morning, drinking his coffee while the sun comes up over the lake.

 There’s a small yard with a canoe pulled up out of the water.  An aluminum dock stretches out away from the shore, with a speedboat tied securely to the side.  Nice toys.

 Steve hadn’t let him see any of the rental details, including the price.  Said it was his treat.  Danny had wondered if it was unfair, at the time, but he no longer has a problem with it. It’s a little petty, but Danny hopes it’s even more expensive than he guessed.

 He goes back inside to help unpack the groceries, and sees Steve with his cell phone to his ear.  “It’s Cath,” Steve explains.  Danny wants to snatch Steve’s phone and hurl it across the room, but he refrains.  Who knows, maybe Steve and Cath are having a critical conversation about their new wedding china.

 Needing to put a little space between himself and whatever is so important that Steve still needs to be talking to Catherine, Danny goes out onto the deck again, and then down to the yard.  He walks to the end of the dock and sits down, taking off his shoes so he can put his feet in the water.

 The lake is cold and dark.  Nothing like the warm, clear turquoise of the Hawaiian ocean. Danny takes a deep breath of the pine-scented air, and, remarkably, misses the salt smell of Steve’s beach. It figures that he’d get attached to that damn place.

 At least Catherine hadn’t insisted on getting married at Steve’s house.  Danny didn’t think he would have been able to go through with it, if she had.  And despite his current state of misery, he knows there were good reasons to go through with it.  

 When Catherine called a few weeks ago with a lead on one of the world’s most wanted terrorists, Danny was more than willing to help her out.  But then she revealed that she wouldn’t be able to get close to this guy unless she had the status of a married woman – and that being married to a particular former Navy SEAL would entice their target into thinking he could get something truly valuable from Cath.   Danny had thought for sure that Steve would refuse.

 Obviously, he didn’t.

 To be fair, Catherine didn’t know – still doesn’t know – the true nature of Steve and Danny’s relationship.  And although Danny is pretty sure that Five-0 suspects, he and Steve have never come out and told them, so they thought that the team would buy it.

 And they did, as far as he can tell.  It hurts, frankly, how easily they bought it. Despite everything their friends have seen between him and Steve, when Catherine showed up, everyone accepted that she was Steve’s soulmate, some magical creature who could waltz back into his life and be automatically adored.  Sure, the wedding was put together quickly, but hey, look at those lovebirds finally getting their act together, how wonderful for them, let’s all help throw them a party to celebrate…

 It makes Danny ache.

 Only Rachel was let in on the secret, so she could help with their cover.  It made sense - he and Rachel have been getting along well lately.  Even Steve worried that they might get back together. So in the week before the wedding they played up the Rachel and Danny angle, Danny dropping her name into conversation more frequently and making sure everyone heard about a successful romantic dinner at Rachel’s favorite Honolulu hot spot.  

 Danny drew the line at a double date with Steve and Catherine, however.  He had to retain some measure of dignity.

 The pièce de résistance was Steve and Danny scheduling their honeymoon and vacation with their respective significant others at the same time, to give the rest of Five-0 a chance to really take charge of the team, fly without a net, etc. etc.  Danny owes Steve $50 for that one, he’s still not sure how Steve got Tani to think it was her idea.  

 In theory, in the time that they are away, Cath will accomplish her mission, and the farce can be revealed.  No harm no foul, life goes on.

 Except Danny feels so goddamn awful, he’s forced to rethink the whole “no foul” business.

 Danny pulls himself out of his thoughts as the dock vibrates with Steve’s footsteps.

 “Mind if I join you?”  Steve speaks in the same half-casual, half-tentative tone he’s been using for the past week or so.    

 “Sure.”

 Steve sits down next to him, dangling his bare feet in the cool water next to Danny’s.  Danny wonders how things would be different if this were another kind of trip - if Steve would be splashing him, poking him, shoving him off the dock. Following him in with a sleek dive, or a raucous cannonball.  Wrapping his arms around Danny in the water, dunking him under and kissing him senseless when he came up.

 “I really am sorry,” Steve says.  Some kind of bird hoots in the distance, as if for punctuation.

 “Don’t apologize,” Danny responds.  He’s been over and over this in his head, and it’s not Steve’s fault.  “I agreed to it.”

 “But I’m still sorry.  I hurt you.  You can’t tell me I didn’t hurt you.”

 There it is, then.  The truth of it.

 “Yeah,” Danny says softly.  “You did.”  He leans his head on his hands, elbows on his knees.  “Or, really, the situation hurt.  It wasn’t you.”

 “That’s bullshit.  Situations don’t just happen.”

 “That’s remarkably perceptive of you,” Danny snaps, more sharply than he intended.  He lets out a long breath, picking up his head to stare out over the lake.  There’s a tiny island not too far away, trees sticking up haphazardly all over it, like Steve’s hair first thing in the morning.

 “I should never have said yes to it,” Steve continues.

 “<i>We</i> should never have said yes to it.  But we did, and here we are.”

 “And here we are,” Steve repeats quietly.  

 More long minutes go by.  The goose or whatever it is hoots some more.  Danny flicks a gnat away from his face, wishes he was wearing his sunglasses.  

 “I’ve gotta ask you something, Danny.”

 “Yeah?”

 “Do you want to fix this?”

 The question takes him by surprise.  “What?”

 Steve looks at him sadly.  “Did we screw it up too much, or do you want to try to fix it?”

 Danny hears roaring in his ears.  “Did I not just fly halfway across the planet on some lame-ass excuse just to do that very thing?  What do you think we’re doing here?  What the hell is wrong with you?”

 “Then why won’t you talk to me?”

 Danny draws in a breath to yell some more, only no words come out.  He shakes his head.  “This is the weirdest conversation.”

 Steve nods.  “Kind of a role reversal, I get it.  But Danny, to be clear, I do want to fix it.  Us.  Just so you know.”

 Despite the fact that this should be obvious, it’s still good to hear.  Danny feels himself relax a little bit more.  “I figured as much, with all the eyelash fluttering.”

 Steve snorts.  “I do not flutter my eyelashes.”

 “You totally do.”  

 Steve scoots a little closer to Danny, leans up against him and rests his head on his shoulder.  Danny leans into him in response.  He can’t help it, no matter how upset he is, his body wants to be close to Steve.

 “Listen,” Steve says calmly.  “I’m going to go back up to the house grill some steaks, put some beer on ice.  We’re going to have a nice meal, watch some tv, and crash early.  Sound good?”

 Danny nods.  “Yeah.”

 “But tomorrow, we’re putting on our big boy pants and facing the music.  No more moping.  Deal?”

 Danny wants to be annoyed – feelings don’t work that way – but it’s actually a relief to think there’s an end to this misery. Maybe super-SEAL Steve can just make it so.  “Yeah. Deal.”

 Danny plays around with the television while Steve grills, and puts on a documentary about the making of Game of Thrones. They eat sitting on the couches, beers on the coffee table, and argue about whether or not the writers treated Dany the way she deserved, and whether Bran could be a good ruler.  Their banter almost feels normal.

 After dinner they half-heartedly watch a few episodes of a cooking show, and then Danny cleans up while Steve goes upstairs with their luggage.  Steve’s coming out of the shower by the time Danny goes upstairs, and he goes in to take his turn.  The bathroom has a skylight in its slanted ceiling, but it’s dark now, and there’s nothing to see.  

 Steve’s in bed when Danny comes out, sitting up with his tablet on his lap.  The bed is a queen, with a green and brown patchwork kind of quilt that Steve has pushed back.  Steve’s wearing sweat pants and a worn Navy t-shirt, and looks about as non-threatening as a six foot tall guy in your bed can be.

 Steve has unpacked their things into neat little piles in the drawers, and Danny quickly changes into his own sleep pants and t-shirt, trying not to feel self-conscious as he drops his towel and pulls on his clothes.  It’s ridiculous, given how many times he’s been proudly naked in front of this man, but things feel different now.

 There’s a rift between them, and Danny can’t seem to shake it.  He thinks back to Steve’s question on the dock - <i>do you want to fix this?</i>   Of course he does.  He doesn’t understand what his problem is.

 Steve reaches towards the light on the night table. “Do you want to go to sleep?  Or read for a  while?”

 “Nah, I’m tired.”

 Steve nods and turns off the light as Danny climbs into bed.  It’s hard lying there without touching Steve, but Danny leaves a little strip of space anyway.  Steve moves, and without conscious thought, Danny flinches.

 There’s a long, awkward moment.

 “I’m not going to do anything you don’t wanna do, Danny.  But you acting like I might… it kinda stings.”

 And doesn’t that pack a punch.  “Fuck, Steve, I’m sorry.  I didn’t mean to, I’m just…”  He doesn’t even know what to say, so he moves in close to Steve and wraps his arms around him.  

 “I miss you,” Danny says, his face pressed against Steve’s neck, “and I’m mad at you, and I want you, and at the same time I feel sick about the whole thing.  I don’t know what’s wrong with me.  I don’t know what to do.”

 “I love you, Danny,” Steve says softly. “But I can’t make you forgive me if you don’t want to.”

 “You think I don’t want to?”

 Steve shrugs.  “What do I know?  It seems like it.”

 “I’ll figure it out, Steve.  I promise.”  Danny lifts himself up on an elbow.  He can’t really see Steve’s face, but he cups his cheek, and leans in for a kiss. Steve returns the kiss quickly, letting out a little sound of surprise.

 They exchange gentle kisses for a few minutes, Steve lightly holding the back of Danny’s neck, then Danny pulls away and settles in his usual spot on Steve’s chest, cheek against the soft fabric of his t-shirt.  Steve breathes heavily for a moment, rubbing circles on Danny’s back, and then presses a kiss to his hair.

 “We’re gonna be okay, Danno,” Steve says, more confidence in his voice than Danny has heard in a while.  “We’ll both figure it out.  It’s gonna be okay.”

 *****

Danny is awakened in the morning by the sound of his vibrating phone sliding off the night table and hitting the hardwood floor. He scrambles to reach it and hits answer when he sees that it’s Grace calling.

 “Danno, you lied to me.”

 Danny flops over on his back, glancing at the clock. Seven a.m., which means it’s noon in London.  He wonders if Grace thought she was being considerate by waiting until seven to call him.

 “Grace, it’s awfully early for this.”

 “I think it’s kind of late, actually.”

 Steve has clued into what’s happening by now, and has slid his head over right next to Danny’s so he can hear both sides of the conversation.

 “What exactly are you mad about?”  Danny doesn’t want to give away more than he needs to – maybe Grace is just peeved that Danny isn’t in London with them.

 “The wedding, obviously.  How could you not tell me what’s really going on?”

 Danny sighs.  “Because as mature and grown-up as you are, you actually aren’t eligible to be read into this op.”

 “You can tell me.  You told Mom.”

 “I had to, monkey.  How did you find out, anyway?  Your mom’s a pretty decent liar, I thought she’d be able to stick to the story for at least a few more days.”

 Steve snorts next to him, apparently in agreement about Rachel’s skills at deception.

 “It was you, you gave it away.”

 “I did not.  I never said a thing.”

 “Your face did,” Grace retorts.  “You were so fake and annoying before the wedding, and during the ceremony you looked like you were going to hurl.  You had me worried for Uncle Steve.”

 “For Steve?”

 “Yeah, I figured maybe he got cancer from the radiation, and he had to marry Catherine for the insurance, but Mom says that’s not it.”

 Steve is shaking behind him, muffling his laughter into Danny’s shoulder.  Danny swats him with his free hand and tries to focus on Grace.

 “Your mother is right, Steve is fine, he thankfully does not have cancer or any other similar illness of which I am aware.  And why would he need insurance from Catherine?”

 “I don’t know, it’s a thing people get married for, how should I know?  Mom always said your insurance was crappy, that’s why she tried to keep Charlie on Stan’s.”

 The conversation is veering into territory Danny has no intention of exploring.  “For the record, my health insurance is just fine, and so is Steve’s.” He takes a deep breath.  “Grace, I really can’t discuss this right now.  But Steve and I are fine.  Hopefully I can tell you more in a few weeks, okay?”

 “That’s not fair.”

 “Can I talk to her?”  Steve asks under his breath, pointing to the phone.  Danny nods and hands it over.

 “Grace?  It’s Steve.” Steve rolls over and sits up on the edge of the bed, then gets up and walks out of the room with the phone. Danny is tempted to follow him, but then he decides he’ll just let Steve work his magic.  Grace is much more likely to be satisfied with whatever Steve tells her.  He tries not to take it too personally.

 A few minutes later Steve returns and hands Danny the phone.  He says a quick goodbye to Grace, who apparently needs to get ready to go out for lunch with her grandparents anyway, and hangs up.

 “What did you say to her?”

 Steve sits down on the edge of the bed, looking intently at Danny.  “I told her that I love her and Charlie, and you, very much, and I would never do anything to hurt any of you.  That you are the most important person in my life, and that nothing was happening that you and I didn’t plan together.   I asked her if she could trust me on that, and wait to hear the rest of it for a few more weeks, and she said yes.”

 Danny takes a moment to absorb this.  “You told her that I was the most important person in your life?”

 “Yes, I did.”

 “Come here.”  Danny pulls Steve against him, hugging him tight, and Steve squeezes him right back.  “I love you, you know that, right?”

 Steve nods against his shoulder.

 “I do, Steve.  I love you like crazy.”

 They stay that way for a few minutes, and then Steve pulls away.  “Okay if I go for a swim?”

 Danny scans Steve’s face, but he can’t find any reason to say no, despite the fact that he’d rather keep Steve close. “Sure.”

 While Steve’s gone Danny takes a quick shower, pulls on jeans and a sweatshirt, and heads downstairs to make coffee.  There’s a thin layer of fog over the water, and he can’t see Steve.  It’s not as if Steve can’t take care of himself in a lake that doesn’t even have any sharks in it, but he’ll feel better when he’s back.

 Danny takes two cups of coffee and a towel out to the deck and sits at the table, letting his thoughts wander.  He breathes easier when he spots Steve heading back towards the dock, his powerful strokes making ripples as he goes.

 Watching Steve pull himself up on to the dock and walk towards the shore, water streaming down his body, is a view Danny will never get tired of.

 Coming up on to the deck, Steve takes the towel from Danny with a grateful nod.   After Steve dries himself off (also a great show) they sit together in silence for a little while, sipping their coffee.

 “You know what I’m in the mood for?”  Steve asks, breaking the silence.

 “What?”

 “Pizza.”

 It’s still early in the morning, and Steve never wants pizza, but Danny isn’t about to object.

 “Okay.”

 By the time they get ready to leave the house, they still haven’t decided on whether to get take-out or go to the grocery store for the necessary items to make pizza from scratch.  Danny used to do it all the time with Grace, so he knows they can do a decent job themselves, but then they see a pizza joint that opens early, and they decide to take the lazy way out.

 They still have some time to kill so they walk around the little town for a while, browsing in a bookstore with a surprisingly interesting selection of books about mysteries in New England, and treating themselves to an overpriced pound of assorted gummies and chocolate covered fruit from a candy store.  Danny buys them lattes flavored with real maple syrup, which Steve declares disgusting. Danny kind of agrees, although he’s not about to admit it.

 Finally the pizza place opens, and they scroll through their phones as they wait for their order to be ready.  Danny’s got a text from Grace apologizing for being a pain and sending him a bunch of cute emojis, which do their job and make him smile.

 When their order is called Steve offers to pay – the first time that day, Danny can’t help but point out – and just as he’s digging his fingers into his wallet to extract his money, a ring flies out and clatters to the ground, rolling away towards the door.

 The woman next to them at the counter dives for it and hands it back to Steve.  “Got it!” she announces triumphantly.  “You wouldn’t want to lose this.”

 The tips of Steve’s ears have gone red, but he plays along, thanking the woman and stuffing the ring into his pocket.

 Danny takes the pizza and they walk out to the Jeep. Danny is concentrating on not saying anything, because anything he says is just going to make matters worse. When they get inside, Steve starts the car, pulls out onto the road, and then glances at him pointedly before speaking.

 “Okay, out with it.”

 “What?”

 “You’re dying to yell at me,” Steve says.  “Go ahead, get it over with.”

 “I’m not going to yell at you.  Why would I yell at you?  You haven’t even started driving yet.”

 “Danny…”

 Danny considers his options.  Steve’s right, he’s probably not going to be able to keep quiet about this.  Might as well get it over with or Steve will just keep bothering him about it.  “Just wondering if that’s the same ring Harry gave you to use back in Laos.  Or if you got a new one.”

 A pause.  Danny watches Steve’s face, but he doesn’t give anything away.

 “And that matters… why?”

 Danny shrugs.  “Don’t know.  But you asked, and that’s what I was thinking.”

 “No, it’s not the same ring – Harry took those rings back.”  Steve’s definitely got a tone, and not surprisingly, it’s fairly tense.  “What, do you think I’ve had the rings sitting around my house this whole time?”

 “How would I know?  You never got rid of the engagement ring you got Cath.”

 Steve’s fingers tighten around the steering wheel. “I didn’t know what to do with it.”

 “Well, guess it’s a good thing you kept it.” Which is completely unfair of Danny to say.  It doesn’t even make sense – Steve and Cath just used plain gold wedding rings in the ceremony, as it turned out, although Danny had expected to see the diamond make an appearance.   He had, in fact, driven himself kind of nuts waiting for it to appear on Catherine’s finger in the days before the wedding.  Not that he was looking that closely, or anything.

 It’s only a few minutes’ drive back to the house, although it feels like forever.  When they pull into the driveway, Steve turns off the car and sits still for a long moment, biting his lip.  Finally he turns to Danny.

 “You know, this hasn’t been fun for me either. When I wanted to ask for real, Catherine rejected me.  Then she comes back and wants a wedding, not because she cares about me, but because I’m useful.”

 “You looked like you were having fun, standing up there in your tux in front of everyone, professing your love and devotion.” Danny regrets his words as soon as they leave his mouth.  He knows it’s not true, but he can’t seem to stop picking at this scab.

 “Danny, if you think there is anyone I want to be saying those words to besides you, you really haven’t been paying attention.” Steve gets out of the car and closes the door, walking into the house without even a glance back in Danny’s direction.

 Danny leans over and bangs his head against the dashboard.  

 The smell of pizza permeates the car.  It’s not helping.

 Danny’s torn between wanting to give Steve a minute or two to cool off, and knowing that time probably won’t make his fuck-up any less painful.  Taking the pizza with him (it’s not the pizza’s fault Danny is a dumb-ass) he goes inside the house.

 Steve is out on the deck, leaning against the railing.

 “I’m sorry, babe.  I was out of line.  I’m sorry.”

 Danny comes up behind Steve, puts his hands on his shoulders and leans his forehead against his back.  “Please, you know I’m an idiot when I start running my mouth. I’m sorry.”

 Steve turns in Danny’s arms, his face drawn, eyes flickering up to Danny’s and then back down again.  “This hurt me too,” he says, his voice rough.  “Why can’t you see that?”

 Danny feels his heart break.  “I do, I do see it.  I should have seen it before.  I’m sorry.” Danny tilts his head up and kisses Steve, who kisses back with more force than Danny expected, sending a sudden shiver down his spine.  Steve practically attacks his mouth, biting at his lip, clutching tight at Danny’s sides.

 Danny feels Steve shuffle him backwards, until he’s pushed down into a chair, Steve straddling him and grabbing his face with both hands.

 The deck chair creaks and Danny turns his face just enough to get a full breath, holding Steve back when he tries to dive back in for more.  

 “Hey, hey, calm down,” Danny says.  “It’s okay.  It’s okay.”  

 “Danny…” Steve pants out, sounding desperate. “What do I have to do?  Just tell me, I’ll do it, I don’t want to fight anymore.”

 “We’re not fighting.  It’s okay, we’re fine.  I promise.  We’re fine.”

 Steve sags against Danny, still breathing hard. Danny strokes his hands up and down Steve’s back, trying to soothe him.  “This was a dumb plan, okay?  We both know that now, we got the memo.  But the worst is over, right?  No more watching the love of our life marry somebody else, no more having to pretend with fucking Catherine.  That part’s all done.”

 Steve squirms in Danny’s hold, and then sits up, the wrecked look on his face replaced by something decidedly more hopeful. “The love of your life?”

 Danny rocks his head back, embarrassed, but he can’t avoid Steve’s gaze for long.  “Yes, you goof.  You’re the love of my life.  I’ll write it on a pancake if you want.  Now get off me, before I lose all feeling in my legs.”

 Steve complies, lifting a long leg gracefully up and over Danny’s lap.  “You couldn’t fit that on a pancake.”

 “Two pancakes, then.  Or one really big pancake.”

 “Will you butter them for me?”

 Danny accepts Steve’s hand and lets him pull him up out of the chair, his back protesting at the angle.  “How about we reheat that pizza, and save the pancakes for later?”

 *****

The next few days feel almost normal, although it’s downright strange to have all this time with Steve and so little to do. Unlike normal, though, they don’t fill their free time with sex.  It just doesn’t feel right.

 One afternoon they take the speedboat out. Once they get past the little island with the funny trees the lake opens up.  It’s much bigger than Danny had realized, and they cruise around for an hour or so, exploring the little coves and looking for the bird Danny keeps hearing hoot at them.  

 “It’s a loon, Danny,” Steve insists.  But Danny can’t take this seriously, as “<i>you’re</i> a loon” seems to be the only appropriate response.

 They’ve turned off the boat’s engine, just letting themselves drift.  The sun is warmer today, and Steve has stripped off his shirt and is lying back with his eyes closed.  He looks like something out of a magazine.

 “Naptime?”  Danny asks.

 “Yeah, you should try it.”

 “Aren’t you afraid we’ll run into something?”

 Steve sits up.  “I put down the anchor.  How did you miss that?”

 Danny shrugs.  “I was looking for the bird.”

 Steve opens his mouth to say “loon” but realizes that Danny is goading him, and stops himself just in time.  “Come on, come up here with me.”

 Steve is stretched out on the deck by the bow, and he’s got a cushion under his head.  Danny tosses his own shirt below in the little cabin and climbs forward, joining Steve on the deck.  He lies down carefully, shuffling until his head is next to Steve’s.  

 The rocking of the boat is incredibly calming, and the heat of the sun on his skin quickly warms him through.  He runs his fingers over the bumpy surface of the deck. “What if we never went back?”

 Steve nuzzles Danny’s head.  “You’d miss Grace and Charlie.”

 “We could visit.”

 “You’d get bored.  You’re bored already.”

 “Says the man who felt the need to tune-up our rental car yesterday.”

 “It was making a noise.”

 “It’s a car, it’s supposed to make noise.” Danny sighs, poking at Steve’s side until Steve wraps their hands together.  “It’s just nice to be away, I guess.”

 “Didn’t know you liked pine trees so much.”

 “I don’t think it’s the pine trees.”  Danny lifts himself up a little, leans over and presses a kiss to Steve’s cheekbone, his hair blowing down over his face.  

 “That tickles,” Steve responds, cupping Danny’s face to guide Danny’s lips to his own.  “Mmm, better.”

 They make out lazily for a while, and then Steve dozes off, resting his face against Danny’s bare shoulder.  Danny considers ribbing him for falling asleep while kissing, but then decides to take it as a compliment.

 Later that night, as Danny is joining Steve in bed – once again, both of them clad in t-shirts and sleep pants - Danny manages to put words to the elephant in the room.

 “You, um, you don’t mind?  That we’re not-” he waves his hand vaguely between them.  

 Steve shrugs.  “It’s fine.  Besides, for the moment, I’m married.  At least until we file for divorce.”  He doesn’t say it like a joke, more like a death sentence.

 “Babe, are you… are you worried about committing adultery?”

 Steve blushes.  “No, of course not.”

 He maybe is, Danny thinks.  Who could have guessed?  Danny gets in bed and scoots over towards Steve.  “I was assuming we were both not engaging in… whatever,” he waves his hand again, “for the same reasons, but now I’m not so sure.”

 “It doesn’t matter,” Steve says, clearly uncomfortable.

 “I think it does,” Danny says gently.  “Hey, can I ask you something?”

 Steve purses his lips.  “You already did.”

 “You didn’t have sex with Catherine after the wedding, right?”  Danny may have been upset at having to watch Steve go through with the ceremony, including kissing the bride, but not once has he doubted Steve’s fidelity.

 Steve’s eyes widen.  “Of course not, Danny, what do you think-”  

 “So you won’t be filing for divorce, it’ll be an annulment.  As if it never happened.”

 Danny’s not sure how this detail never occurred to Steve, but it clearly did not.  “Really?”

 “Yes, really.”

 “Oh.”  A little smile pulls at the corner of Steve’s mouth.  “An annulment.  That’s, um, that’s better.”  He glances up at Danny.  “Not that there’s anything wrong with being divorced, if you meant to be married in the first place, but-”  Steve sighs and ducks his head, leaning against Danny’s side.

 “But what?”

 “It felt like I was wasting it with her.  The whole time, through the ceremony, and the reception, with all the flowers and congratulations and celebrating…  I felt so empty.  And then I went to find you, and you were already gone – which I totally understand, but still… it wasn’t right.  I guess I wanted it to be special.”

 Danny slides down and wraps an arm around Steve, taking a moment to judge Steve’s mental state before responding.   He almost always laughs, no matter how awful Danny’s jokes are, but they’re on shaky ground these days.

  “I’m sorry, babe,” Danny finally says, seriously.  “I’m sorry you wasted your wedding virginity on Catherine.”

 Steve barks out a laugh, and then Danny is laughing too, until they’re both clutching their stomachs and gasping for air.  

 “Guess you can’t wear white at our wedding,” Danny spits out between cackles.

 “That’s offensive and archaic, I can wear whatever I want,” Steve replies, still laughing.

 It seems to take forever before they calm down, one of them starting up again and setting the other off, but they finally relax. Danny rests his head on Steve’s chest, fingers playing idly with the collar of his t-shirt.

 “So,” Steve says, “you, um, think we’re going to have a wedding someday, you and me?”

 Danny is suddenly glad he’s got a shirt on, because otherwise he’d probably be sporting a full body blush.  “If it’s up to me?  Yeah.”

 Steve squeezes Danny so tight for a moment he can hardly breathe.  “I’d like that too.”

 *****

Danny’s getting out the ingredients to make pancakes the next morning when Steve’s phone rings.  Steve picks it up and answers, straightening his shoulders in a way that makes Danny stop rattling pans and pay attention.

 “Okay.  Understood. Understood.”

 This side of the call isn’t very informative, and Steve has walked out onto the deck, clearly focused on the conversation. Soon Danny sees him shove his phone back into his pocket, and then turn towards Danny with a wide grin on his face.

 “Danno?”  Steve strides towards him and takes him in his arms.  “It’s over.  Cath’s op is done, the guy is in custody.  We don’t have to pretend anymore.  It’s over.”

 “That’s great, babe-” Whatever else Danny was going to say is lost as Steve kisses him hard and long.  Danny gives back just as enthusiastically, pulling away just long enough to nip at Steve’s jaw and suck at that spot on his neck that always makes Steve moan - and today is no exception.  Danny’s practically humping Steve’s leg when Steve stops them and starts to tug Danny towards the stairs.  

 Danny nearly trips over his own feet in his hurry to follow him, and Steve beams back at him.  They’re both stripping off their clothes as they go up, but Steve grabs Danny’s hands just as he’s about to divest himself of his briefs.

 “Hang on, buddy, we need to make sure we’re on the same page,” Steve says, still grinning like a lunatic.  

 “I dunno, you get over your aversion to cheating on your not-wife?”

 Steve’s smile gets impossibly wider, and he yanks his pants up off the floor, pulling out his cell phone from a pocket and stabbing at it vigorously.

 “It’s not cheating if she says it’s ok – see?”

 Steve’s pulled up a text, clearly from Cath, which says you have my full permission to ravish and be ravished. Danny’s kind of curious as to what exactly Steve asked, to get that kind of response, but that’s a question for another time.  Right now, there are more important matters to attend to.

 “So, which one will it be, then?”  Danny asks, as Steve gets his thumbs under the waistband of Danny’s briefs and impatiently renders Danny naked.  “Ravish or be ravished?”

 Steve drops to his knees and smiles up at Danny, his hands already sliding up Danny’s thighs and making him quiver.  “I’ll bet we can do both.”

 They do.